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The four companions hurried toward the Sanctuary of Delphi, the majestic complex of temples and treasures carved high into the slopes of Mount Parnassus. The climb was steep, but the urgency of the Cult's imminent meeting drove them on.
When they arrived, the Sanctuary was surprisingly congested. In front of the great Temple of Apollo, they saw Barnabas, Phoibe, and an old man cloaked in a blue hood, talking animatedly.
The four quickly walked toward them. When Barnabas and Phoibe saw the them, they waved enthusiastically.
Barnabas spoke first, his tone excited and impressed. "Everyone, isn't this remarkable? We're so close to the gods, I can feel Apollo all around me! How did it go with your… ahh… business?"
Alexios looked helpless at the cheerful captain. "We can talk later, in private."
Kassandra's attention was already focused on the blue-hooded old man. "Who is your friend here, Barnabas?"
Atlas looked at the old man, and a spark of recognition, derived from his knowledge of the modern world, flared in his mind. This must be Herodotos, the Father of History. Atlas remembered clearly that in his own world, Herodotos was highly praised. He thought, amused, My history teachers must be jealous if they knew that I met the alive Herodotos in the flesh.
After Kassandra asked the question, the blue-hooded man only replied cryptically, "Just a simple pilgrim."
Barnabas continued, explaining their encounter. "He just saw the Oracle. I couldn't help but ask if she's as glorious as they say."
Phoibe eagerly jumped in. "Indeed! I also want to know!"
Lukas turned to Herodotos. "Well, is she?"
Herodotos contemplated the question for a moment before replying with a sigh. "She left me with more questions than answers."
Barnabas burst out laughing. "That's the Oracle for you! Always ambiguous!"
Kassandra then stepped forward, her intent clear. "Well, why don't we meet the Oracle and find out for ourselves?"
The moment Kassandra stepped in front of the group, Herodotos's eyes fell upon the shimmering, broken point of the Spear of Leonidas on Kassandra's back. He could not help but exclaim softly to Barnabas. "You weren't lying. It really is the spear of Leonidas."
Kassandra heard this and turned to look at Barnabas questioningly. Barnabas let out an awkward laugh and scratched his head. "I may have mentioned you."
Kassandra crossed her arms, her annoyance evident. "I would appreciate you showing a bit more… secrecy."
Barnabas defended himself. "Well, it's just he seemed interested in legends—like you, your brother, Lukas, and Atlas. I thought you all might get along."
While they talked, Herodotos looked intently at the spear, his historian's curiosity overriding his manners. He was about to reach out to touch it, but Alexios quickly stopped him, holding up a hand.
"You don't want to do that," Alexios warned. "And you know our grandfather's spear just by looking at it? You're more than some simple pilgrim."
Herodotos composed himself, meeting Alexios's gaze. "All things in Delphi are more than they appear. Even I." He proceeded to remove his hood, revealing a man with sharp, intelligent eyes. "My name is Herodotos. I'm a storyteller, or I was. This war is forcing us all to new extremes."
Kassandra turned to look at him. "That much is true. Why are you hiding your identity?"
Herodotos explained firmly. "I'm here on behalf of a man in Athens. A very powerful man. We intend to finally end this war."
Barnabas frowned. "You told me you came to ask the Oracle a personal question."
Herodotos replied with conviction. "War is personal, Barnabas. It personally involves all of us, whether we like it or not."
Kassandra continued, pressing him. "So you came to seek the Pythia's guidance on how to end the war?"
Herodotos pointed helplessly at a nearby guard dismissing a person begging to see the Pythia. "I did, though something is wrong in Delphi. Guards at every turn, people being turned away…"
Atlas cut in, his voice cutting through their dialogue. "You said that you were here on behalf of a powerful man who intends to end the war. Is that man Perikles?"
Herodotos looked at Atlas with clear shock. "How did you—"
Atlas cut him off with a smirk. "It's easy to deduce the man behind you if you have that much faith in him to end the war. It seems you were sent here by Perikles to seek guidance from the Pythia, but obviously, you were disappointed by her answer."
Herodotos gave Atlas a slow nod of confirmation. "Indeed. I asked her to show the path to the war's end. She said, 'Spring should not wish for winter, as it brings death with it.'"
Barnabas and Phoibe felt the Pythia's answer was profoundly wise. Barnabas, impressed, said, "Such wisdom… I don't understand a word of it, but that's why she's in there and we're out here."
But the three mercenaries felt a distinct chill in the message. Lukas turned to Atlas. "Is that a threat, Atlas?"
Before Atlas could answer, Barnabas exclaimed, "What? How is that a threat?"
Atlas looked at Barnabas and explained, patiently. "Barnabas, the message was about the Pythia warning that wishing for the war (winter) to end quickly will ironically lead to a greater catastrophe (death) that will destroy the very things they are fighting for (spring's prosperity). The war's end would come about not through victory, but through mutual destruction and tragedy."
Barnabas and Phoibe were shocked by the dark explanation. Phoibe asked hesitantly, "How do you know that, Atlas?"
Atlas rubbed the top of Phoibe's head affectionately. "You will learn this at the camp. For now, just listen."
Lukas, agreeing that the message was a veiled threat to Herodotos, looked at the long line of people waiting. "but this line is ridiculous! Are there always this many people to see the Pythia?"
Barnabas, recovered from his shock, explained. "These are more than just people! Every major city sends a theoroi, or sacred ambassador, to seek guidance on behalf of their people. The Pythia not only shapes the destinies of individuals, but of the entire Greek world."
Herodotos nodded, his eyes narrowed. "Imagine what power one would have if they controlled what came out of her mouth."
Kassandra, Alexios, Lukas, Atlas, and Phoibe, listening to the side, all recognized the disturbing implication.
Kassandra expressed her doubts. "but Delphi is nothing like the people say it was. Has it always been like this?"
Barnabas replied. "No. This was once an open and welcoming place. But war changes things. People seek out the Pythia for more political reasons. Prophecies in times of war often stir… people's violent emotions."
Herodotos nodded and advised the four seriously. "It's wise to keep your blades sheathed. Drawing blood in Delphi is considered an insult to Apollo. Punishment is severe."
After a long conversation with Herodotos and Barnabas, Alexios and Lukas were getting impatient.
Alexios sighed. "We have our own questions for the Pythia. But this line! I'll be an old man by the time I see her."
Barnabas laughed at Alexios's impatience. "You're joking! You carry more blades than a field of grass! You're not waiting in line!"
Alexios looked at Barnabas helplessly. "We didn't come here to start trouble."
Barnabas explained theatrically. "Trouble? Just walk in! Who's going to stop you? The priest?" Barnabas started laughing.
Kassandra, Lukas, and Atlas also started to laugh, realizing the simple truth of the situation. Alexios smiled. "All right, but if things get out of hand, I'm blaming you, Barnabas."
The four quickly walked toward the entrance of the Temple of Apollo, bypassing the long, impatient line of pilgrims and ambassadors.
Barnabas, who stayed behind with Phoibe and Herodotos, turned to the historian. "Are they not every bit as great as I said, Herodotos?"
Herodotos, watching the four mercenaries stride confidently toward the sacred temple, gave a profound nod. "Indeed they are."
(PS: Please support me on patreon there 135+ chapters there and there also my new GoT: The True Dragon Fanfiction of Game of Thrones
https://patreon.com/BX_XDS)