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Chapter Text

“Kephallonia is… here?”

Barnabas leaned over from the wheel, turning so that his good eye focused on where Kassandra was pointing. “Hm? Aye, that’s Kephallonia--and just to the north, there, that’s Ithaka!”

“I know Ithaka,” Kassandra retorted, toeing the island painted on the deck of the Adrestia idly. “I’ve looked at it almost every day.”

The real Ithaka--and Kephallonia--were well behind them, bare specks on the horizon. She’d spent the first few hours since departing sitting on the stern bench, watching over her shoulder as the land she’d spent the last twenty plus years on slipped away. They weren’t home , not really: not Ithaka where she’d honed her hunting skills, and not even Kephallonia, though all the friends left to her in the world lived there.

But a job was a job, and between the plague slowly spreading over the islands and the sudden hush of contracts that came in the wake of facing off against the only other mercenary on the island in spectacularly violent--and public--fashion, there wasn’t much work or coin coming her way any time soon. Kassandra sighed and scuffed her toe against the painted map again, slowly cataloguing the different lands and waters, so carefully rendered. So many places to see, so many people to meet, armies to fight… and somehow, with all those people and across all those lands, Elpeanor managed to find her. Decided to hire her .

To kill the Wolf of Sparta.

Nikolaos hadn’t been a young man when Kassandra was growing up, a General of Sparta and one of the greatest warriors the city had seen since the death of King Leonidas. He’d gained fame within Sparta for his tactics and skillful maneuvering, and renown through the rest of the Peloponnese for his treatment of enemies and allies alike. Not merciful--he was Spartan, after all--but a certain amount of respect. Other generals might take prisoners as slaves; Nikolaos was more likely to ransom them back to their cities or, if seriously injured, grant them an honourable death.

“It’s so isolated,” Kassandra remarked, still staring at the map. “But I can see the coast of the Peloponnese from my house.” House, shack, hut. It was newly built a hundred years ago and left to ruin sometime after; she’d claimed it and fixed it up, but it wasn’t any sort of luxurious.

Barnabas laughed at her, gesturing to the map as he turned back to the helm. “You can? You must have the sight of the gods, then!”

“Or maybe I just have two working eyes,” she snarked back. Sight of the gods, right .

But Barnabas laughed again; did nothing upset this man? “Or perhaps four eyes; I see you talking with that eagle of yours!”

The eagle in question--proud, defiant, and a mother hen in turns--was perched on the wooden screen that shielded part of the stern bench, alternating between watching the sea and watching Kassandra and Barnabas. Kassandra clicked her tongue to get his attention; Ikaros shrilled at her, fluffed his feathers, and turned back to the sea.

She sighed at him; her oldest friend was an eagle. A stubborn eagle, at that. “The only thing we talk about is him taking off to hunt and me scolding him when he shows up just in time to annoy me.”

Kassandra looked up just in time to see Barnabas shaking his head, his whole body shuddering. “Hey! Are you laughing at me?”

“You talk about your Ikaros like my old friend talks about his wife.”

She snorted. “You live with someone long enough, I suppose it all starts to sound the same.”

One of the skeleton crew below called out for Barnabas and instructions; as the old captain saw to his people and ship, Kassandra lounged back against the bench, tilting her head towards the sun.

They were heading for Megaris, which Barnabas assured her was the current major battleground in the war between Athens and Sparta. Elpeanor had said that Nikolaos would be there, but she trusted the old seaman over some shady mainlander who let his guards get killed as a test to see her skills. Or however he reasoned it; she didn’t want to ask, because that meant interacting with him more. Whether he was hiding out on Kephallonia to avoid Nikolaos and the bounty he’d put on the Wolf’s head was Elpeanor’s way of avoiding some consequence, or if he was on Kephallonia for another reason and wanting Nikolaos killed was incidental, she didn’t know that, either.

Kassandra shifted, pulling out the old broken spear her mater had given her, so long ago. She’d never taken a bounty contract before--the closest was hunting down a handful of local thieves (who were a drachmae a dozen on Kephallonia; the island wasn’t entirely made up of criminals, but it was probably a fifty-fifty split between law abiding citizens and those who just did not care). The contract to kill Nikolaos was more an excuse to get off the island that’d been her home since she was eight, see more of the world, make a name for herself. That didn’t mean she didn’t intend to uphold her end, and to do that… sword, short sword, spear, bow and arrows would all work, but using the broken spear wouldn’t just be effective. It would be poetic justice.

The man who married Leonidas’ daughter, killed by Leonidas’ own broken spear. One of the kings had sent Spartans to recover the spear from Thermopylae at the same time as they recovered Leonidas’ body for a burial with honours, and it had been given to Myrrine after the internment. Or, knowing the woman, she had demanded the last relic of her father to be handed over immediately, and everyone who stood in her way suffered for it.

Kassandra ran a finger down the edge of the spear’s blade, testing the sharpness and checking for rust. None, as normal. As much as she liked to think it was all the maintenance and care she paid to the old weapon, the metal shone in a way that she’d never seen before and no matter what she stabbed or threw the spear into the edge never dulled. Good for a quick kill, then, and that’s what this would have to be: a quick kill. Stealthy, maybe. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that between Nikolaus’ skills and the Spartan army, there was only one way she could really hope to complete the contract: a proper assassination.

“What are you frowning about, o mighty misthios ?” Barnabas’ voice broke her from her thoughts.

She startled upwards, coming to her feet and not-so-accidentally treading on the painted islands in the process. “Barnabas! Don’t startle me like that.”

“Eh, I know you wouldn’t hurt this poor old, one-eyed man,” he shrugged off her annoyance. “I need to go below; do you know how to handle a ship?”

That brought her up short. “Do I know how to… what?”

He waved her forward to the helm. “Come, come, let me teach you quickly. We have another day of sailing before we make it to Megaris, more than enough time for lessons!”

She reached out to grab the old wood, worn smooth by many hands over the years. “What am I--what do you want me to do?”

“Keep her on the same heading, there--no, no, sun just slightly behind and to the right, we want to head east-south-east,” he instructed. “There we go! See? I knew you’d be a natural!”

Kassandra flexed her fingers, checking her grip. “And I just… stand here?”

“Exactly! Any questions?”

“Yes: why are you trusting me with this?”

He laughed and patted her shoulder. Flinched slightly away when his hand contacted the hard lines of metal and buckles that were hidden by the Shroud of Penelope Kassandra had wrapped around her shoulders and head. “Well, obviously you have sailed before! How else would you get from the mainland to Kephallonia?”

She tried not to stiffen or show another reaction, but from the corner of her eye she could see Barnabas looking at her worriedly. “Me? From the mainland?”

“From the Peloponnese, somewhere, probably,” Barnabas confirmed, would-be casually. “You sail as long as I have to as many places as I have, and you can pick out details like that, too. A bit of an accent, and a way of framing your sentences that sounds more like Lakonian or Messenian, maybe Arkadian. But most of the time you sound Kephallonian! If that’s why you’re worried, the accent of your latest home comes through clearly.”

She shook her head at him. “Kephallonia isn’t my home.”

“Even after… however long you’ve lived there?”

“No,” Kassandra confirmed. Even with Marcos and Phoibe and the few other people who were almost friends, almost family. “No, not Kephallonia.”

Barnabas hummed, apparently having forgotten being called away. “Then… wherever you were from before? Is that your home?”

She couldn’t help herself; she snorted. In her mind’s eye she could easily picture the spear, Myrrine, Nikolaos, the masked men, baby Alexios, the mountain . “I might have been born in Sparta, but I was never really Spartan.”

“Spartan?” Barnabas asked, surprise lacing his words. “And you’re looking for the Wolf of Sparta?”

Kassandra nodded; Barnabas had said he took no side in this war, even having been an Athenian captain, once upon a time. Still, Kephallonia supported Athens, and so far most of public opinion--that Kassandra had heard, anyway--swayed in favour of Athens, too. It would make sense for her to be after a Spartan General if she had been from Athens or somewhere that was firmly part of or on the side of the Delian League. She could see why Barnabas would be surprised.

“I am,” she confirmed, her lips curling upwards. Not a smile, not a sneer; she wasn’t sure what she was feeling about this, but it wasn’t anything good. “I’m going to track Nikolaos down, and before I kill him I am going to get some answers.”

“Answers?” Barnabas parroted.

She nodded, shortly. “Answers. When I was eight, the oracle said that my baby brother--who was in perfect health--would bring about the fall of Sparta if he was allowed to live. Mater fought against the order, but we were all brought up Mount Taygetos and---and Alexios was thrown off the mountain cliff.”

Barnabas hadn’t completely retracted his hand before from her shoulder; he rested it again against the shroud, patting gently. “That must have been difficult to witness, Kassandra. I am sorry. ...but what does that have to do with the Wolf?”

“He was there,” she answered after a minute. She had to refocus; Barnabas had actually sounded sincere . When was the last time someone had actually meant what they said to her? “He was there, he let them kill Alexios… and when I fought back, pushed the priest who had thrown Alexios off and killed him…. Nikolaos threw me off Mount Taygetos, too.”

She could feel Barnabas withdrawing, air abruptly sucked through clenched teeth. “And you survived?”

“I did,” she nodded. “That’s the night that Ikaros found me.”

“So you’ve known him for a long, long time,” Barnabas surmised, looking up at the eagle. Ikaros’ attention was focused wholly on them; she’d noticed the minute he’d zeroed in on them, but the predatory gaze had long been comforting. “But you know what happened then. What answers are you looking for?”

Kassandra shrugged, careful to not jostle her hands and change their heading. “Just one answer, I guess,” she conceded. “I want to ask him… I want to know why, when the priests said that Alexios would bring us to ruin, when they told him to kill me in return for the life of one of their own…

“I want to know why he sided with them over his own children.”

Chapter Text

In Kassandra's defence, she had meant to head back to Barnabas and the Adrestia as soon as she was done in Megaris. Nikolaos was out of the picture and his helmet weighed heavily in her sack, and while he wasn't dead the Spartans--and second General Stentor in particular--didn't actually know that. The sooner she was out of Megaris and away from the potential arrow storm from an angry phalanx , the better.

But the young farmer had a contract, and it was well ingrained in her to never turn down a contract, no matter how small. On Kephallonia any amount of drachmae was not just useful but could make the difference between eating for the next week or scrounging for scraps, and while the farmer didn't have much to offer by way of coin he had given her a few vegetables and strips of dried meat, with a small note and a promise of payment from the merchant she was delivering the letter to.

If that meant skirting the border with Boeotia and her fearsome military, then Kassandra would just have to expand and expound on her stealth abilities.

A day later she was heading back towards Megaris, a few hundred drachmae richer and belly stuffed with dinner from a grateful merchant. Much of Hellas was in turmoil, but there were still some towns and cities that had avoided the worst of Eris' touch and had some plenty to share with weary travellers and skilled mercenaries. (Taking care of that pack of wolves on the way in hadn't hurt her initial meeting with the locals, either.)

Another few hours would bring her within sight of Panoramos, and hopefully the Adrestia would still be at anchor. Barnabas had said his life--and ship, and crew--were at her beck and call, but just bringing her to Megaris was more than most captains that sailed by Kephallonia would do to even the debt. For him to stick around this long would be unimaginable. With the sun beating down hot overhead and only sparse shade along the road, Kassandra whistled for Ikaros and settled down under a small copse. "Break time," she crooned as the eagle settled on her raised knee, chirping at her before taking off to find his own prey. The loaf of bread and handful of figs didn't make a substantial meal, but it was more than enough to keep her going until Panoramos. And resting for a while wouldn't hurt. It would be easier to enter Megaris in general and Panoramos in particular after dark, when most of the Spartan forces would be resting and those awake on guard wouldn't be able to see as far. Not that they were any equal to her sight at their best, and with Ikaros flying above they didn't stand a chance.

If the Adrestia was still there, getting to her during the night would be easiest, even if they waited until sunrise to depart. And if she wasn't... sneaking through Panoramos towards Megara would still be easiest at night. The part of her that had been trained from birth for warfare called for blood, to fight her way through the Spartan camp and shower the ground with red. But the rest of her--who grew up under Markos' spotty guardianship, who had to learn how to play nice, make friends, negotiate, and keep her head down just to survive--prioritized safe travel over violence.

Ikaros landed arms length away, a small rodent clutched in his talons as he tore into it. Kassandra smiled at him, ripping off another piece of bread with her teeth. "Such a swift hunter, Ikaros." He chirped at her again, acknowledging her compliment before returning to his meal.

Moving around the copse of trees to the side away from the road and mostly hidden, Kassandra reclined on an elbow and gazed over the landscape. Megaris was in ruins closer to the beachhead, but up here in the foothills was largely untouched. Almost peaceful. The sun was warm on her skin, Ikaros was keeping watch nearby, and she actually had a mostly full stomach for the first time in weeks. It was the perfect opportunity for a nap.

She awoke to Ikaros' screech near her ear, the brush of feathers over her face. Kassandra snapped upright, grabbing for her broken spear as she landed in a crouch, Ikaros leaping up to settle on her shoulder, wings flared and talons digging into the armour there. She started to scan the area, ready for danger--and stopped.

A fire had been built to ward off the incoming darkness of night, though the sun still sat low in the sky. Across from Kassandra crouched an armoured man, the chestplate of a different design and age from the pteruges and the bracers. His head was shaved and, overall, he looked like he had spent the last few years on the road, living off the land. But the armour was well tended and clean, and the sword at his side was clearly recently honed.

".... misthios ," the man greeted, poking the fire before settling down to roast what looked like a small game bird over the fire.

Kassandra eyed him, debating whether or not to leave... but it wouldn't hurt to talk to someone more familiar with the land. "Mercenary."

"Imbros," he offered. "That's a beautiful eagle."

"...Kassandra," she greeted and stored away the broken spear as she finally sat down, Ikaros shifting his weight to accommodate her movements. Might as well double check this... Imbros hadn't stolen anything before she took off. She could still make it to Panoramos before sunrise if she left in the next few hours. "This is Ikaros."

Ikaros squawked once, then set to preening her hair, tugging strands out of her braid. Kassandra let him; ages ago she'd tried to stop him, but that just made him more determined.

Imbros nodded, turning the bird on its spit. "So. You new around here?"

"From Kephallonia," Kassandra replied, rustling through her sack. Nikolaos' helmet was still there--the most important thing in the bag--and everything else she'd collected since Elpeanor had shown his face. Including the food. Ah, the food. Not much drink left, though she hadn't left the town with much in her wineskin to start. "Just landed before the Spartan and Athenian battle in Megaris."

Imbros hummed in recognition. "Aaaah, so you were the Mercenary the Spartans hired. We heard about the battle and came to offer our services, but by the time we arrived it was already over."

"For Sparta, or Athens?"

Imbros eyed her warily. "We are Mercenaries. Does it matter?"

Well... no. For all that she was Spartan by birth, Kassandra hadn't felt Spartan in years. Not since Taygetos. She hummed noncommittally, and then, "We? You travel with other mercenaries?" The only other she'd had experience with was Talos the Stone Fist, and the general policy there was avoid at all costs .

He nodded, picking at the meat to check doneness before returning it to the fire. "Occasionally. I'm new to being a Mercenary too, so it's easier to follow a more experienced misthios . But I'm getting better. Almost good enough to take bounties on my own." He stared her down, and for one brief moment Kassandra worried. Nikolaos had left the Spartan camp but at least she had held herself back from killing him. Surely Stentor wouldn't have put a bounty on her if there was no body, no death?

But then he shrugged, returning to cooking the game bird. "Those who survived say you fought like ten men, killed or wounded many more."

To boast or to be demure? "On Kephallonia, there was only enough jobs--and space--for two mercenaries. We had to be good." And now there were none. Maybe she could suggest that to Imbros, get him out of the Peloponnese (and out of her hair)?

Imbros nodded slowly. "There's more room here, though, more jobs. More mercenaries to compete with. You were good before, but are you good enough to rise in the Tiers?"

Tiers... implying a ranking system. Talos had been older, more experienced, and she had partially modelled her way of finding contracts and getting work after his methods coupled with what actually worked on Kephallonia for a child from the sea and raised by a professional conman. If there was any sort of ranking system there, Kassandra supposed Talos would have been above her. There hadn't been, though. It was first-come first-served for all jobs and no one particularly valued one misthios over the other when it came to who would take the job.

A ranking system meant there was some kind of formality to it, an organization or structure or rules that mainland Mercenaries followed. She'd never been particularly good at rules--fighting, finding, protecting, yes, but rules? Yet... if she wanted to actually earn a living doing Mercenary work, she'd probably have to at least try.

Barnabas seemed to know his way around Hellas. Maybe he knew some of these structures and rules .

Something must have shown on her face, as Imbros started chuckling as he pulled the game bird out of the flames and started picking at it. "Having second thoughts?"

Kassandra snorted, reclining onto one elbow. "Trying to figure out these... Tiers."

"Make a Name for yourself, and you're in. Every time a Mercenary ranked higher gets taken out by injury, illness or death, everyone below them moves up. Move up enough and you get bumped into a higher Tier, gain some notoriety, get some perks."

"Get more people after me."

Imbros chuckled around a mouthful. "Only if you kill people in broad daylight."

"Ah, so rule number one: be subtle when I kill people," Kassandra retorted.

"Or just... don't. Unless there's a bounty?"

"Difficult to complete a kill bounty without actually killing someone."

Ikaros chirred briefly, nudging the side of her head with his beak before taking off with a single powerful sweep of his wings. Kassandra and Imbros watched him soar into the sunset for a moment, but then she pushed herself up to her feet. "Well, time to go find a contract."

"You're... not staying here for the night?" The other novice Mercenary shifted, putting one foot flat on the earth as if to stand. "You're travelling in the dark? Where are you heading?"

Kassandra took the time to eye him , now, stretching her arms above her head and making no effort to disguise her appraisal. Travelled before with at least one other Mercenary, could have made it to the next town with only another hour of travel but stopped when he stumbled across her, admitted to being new to this line of work, was clearly nervous.... "I'm back to Panoramos, to meet with a... friend." Or close enough, anyway.

Now Imbros was on his feet, kicking dirt onto the fire as he shoved the last of the game bird into his mouth and the carcass and spit into the copse nearby. "Panoramos? But that... why did you come out here if you're just going back to Megaris?"

"Because a contract I took brought me out here," which she thought was rather obvious, especially for a fellow Mercenary. You go where you need to, even if it takes you out of your way. Or, technically she could make it to Phokis overland if she just kept going North-West, but between the fighting, Boeotia's forces, the bandits, and the wild animals, there was no telling how long it would take her to get there. If she survived the trip at all.

His brows were furrowed and now that there was nothing to occupy his hands with, Imbros was wringing them, glancing between Kassandra and the road towards Panoramos... and then trailing back, focusing briefly on the road away from Panoramos before focusing on her again. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then snapped it closed, repeating the pattern of Kassandra-Panoramos road-Boeotia road.

She rolled her eyes, digging in her sack for a loaf of bread and something to drink. The bread was quick to hand, but all she had for liquid was the wineskin, and she wasn't about to give that up. "Look, Imbros--take this, and some dried figs, they should get you through. Another hour or so towards Boeotia is a small town, lots of friendly people. Ask if they need help--there was at least one huntress who mentioned that her sister was recently widowed, they could probably use another pair of hands--make friends. They'll give you room and board if you help out until you decide to move on. Are you any good at hunting? There's packs of wolves around that need clearing out. And be careful not to get too close to Boeotia's borders, the warriors there don't exactly like Mercenaries."

He was outwardly gaping at her as Kassandra shoved the bread and figs into his hands. Okay, time to head off before she actually felt responsible for him. "Safe travels, good hunting. And, uh, sorry for the lack of drink. I only have the one wineskin."

"Oh, no, it's... fine," he muttered, visibly shaking himself from his reverie and running one hand over his mostly bald head. "Uh, safe travels to you, too."

Kassandra waved over her shoulder and whistled for Ikaros, sending him scouting ahead even as she remained in the here-and-now. "Until we next meet, Imbros."

She was almost at the next bend in the road when hurried footsteps came up behind her. To absolutely no surprise, the other Mercenary greeted her when she turned to check. "Wait--Kassandra--" He gulped down a breath, then held out a small wooden token with rows of characters on it. "For Mercenaries. It's not a contract, but in Megara, there's a Temple. Mercenaries gather there."

Oh, she knew that Temple well. There was one less Mercenary that was likely to visit, now.

"Take it, show it to whichever Mercenary is there. If--if you want, they'll take you under their guidance," and at seeing her sneer at the idea, "Or--it will work as an introduction between you."

She didn't really need to go to Megara. But it was the largest city, so if Barnabas hadn't waited it was the best place to find a captain who might be willing to take her... even if it meant crossing the Diokoles. And if she was there anyway.... Imbros was new, and clearly still finding his feet. Maybe a more senior--no, a higher ranking, higher Tiered Mercenary--would no doubt have a better grasp of the rules .

"Fine," but she took the token with greater gentleness than her tone of voice implied. "...thank you."

"No, no," he waved her off, "Thank you ," and he was back up the road, heading to Boeotia at a speed that would get him to the town well within the hour if he kept up the pace.

Kassandra hid beside a boulder and followed him with Ikaros' eyes, marking Imbros in their combined mental map. She waited until he was well away before returning to her own body, standing and stretching again. If she moved as quickly as Imbros was, she'd be to Panoramos before midnight, and on the Adrestia not too much later. By then, the other Mercenary should be well ensconced in the border town and hopefully getting into his cups and forgetting all about her presence. And name. And Ikaros.

The eagle chirped above her to signal he had caught up again, and then she was off. To Phokis, to Elpeanor... to the Truth.

Chapter Text

Elpeanor had been an absolute rat from the beginning, so how things turned out wasn't surprising. No, the surprising thing--things, really--were regarding her mother. And father. And other father. Her biological father.

"Your life is becoming a poem worthy of Odysseus!" Barnabas exclaimed as they trekked up to Delphi, skirting bandit-infested ruins and suspicious warriors on the way.

Kassandra snorted, sending Ikaros further afield to scout with a wave of her arm. "I'd be okay with something a bit... shorter." And less convoluted.

Not that she was doing any favours to herself on that point, either. When they were within sight of Delphi she sent Barnabas on ahead to find a place to stay the night, make some friends, get in line to see the Pythia ... based on the crowds, the last could take hours, if not days .

Kassandra, meanwhile, turned around and headed right back into the wild. No way was she dealing with that many people in that small a space. Kephallonia had all of two (2!) small towns, plus Kleptos Bay when it wasn't inundated with pirates and petty criminals, and up to this point Megara was the largest population center she'd been in. Save Sparta, but Sparta was better forgotten, most days.

(Not recently, but this entire trip from the word "go" had done nothing but bring up reminders of the Agiad. She had been raised Spartan, but had grown up as a child of the sea and Kephalonia, and Sparta was neither of those things nor places.)

Point was, the trip from Pilgrim's Landing to Delphi wasn't nearly long enough for Kassandra to prepare herself for the sheer press of bodies and people, so Barnabas got to play nice with the locals and pilgrims and Kassandra got to go hunt some animals and/or bandits as she geared herself up to deal with many, many people. And the Pythia .

Oh, the Pythia .

That was probably the thing she actually should be preparing for, if only to avoid pulling her spear on the Oracle during their meeting. And they would be meeting, even if Kassandra had to hunt her down.

The olive groves north of Pilgrim's Landing were a peaceful respite, the workers diligent but still calling greetings to each other and her as she jogged past. Sunlight dappled across her head and shoulders, and as her jog slowed to a steady walk she took a few moments to taste the sweet air. It was calm and peaceful, orderly and soothing; a true balm on her soul.

It set her on edge. No place was this serene, not with a war on its footsteps and Elpeanor within its borders. Not with snakes in the grass.

Kassandra rolled her shoulders, picking up her pace. Time to go find some chaos to tackle.

Daphne of the Daughters of Artemis was a pleasant surprise. The boar? Not so much.

The people of Phokis, for all that there was an impressive number of warriors to keep the pilgrims safe on their journeys, still managed to get into many scrapes and problems, and therefore occasionally (more than occasionally) needed the help of a misthios . While hunting down some bandits for the healer Agathe she ran into a strangely dressed not-bandit attacking a group of pilgrims and was tempted to take them out. But the Adrestia still needed crew and lieutenants, and if she could convince the not-bandit to put their excellent fighting skills to the Adrestia 's aid....

The not-bandit was a Follower of Ares, who mostly Followed for the opportunity to fight. Not a cannibal, which was not something Kassandra had ever thought would be a concern when it came to recruiting crew, and quite willing to don some of the older armour Kassandra still had in her sack instead of the black-red blood soaked robes of the Followers. The armour didn't fit him well, it barely covered the essentials, but at least she was no longer being followed around by a fighting maniac dressed like a lunatic. ...and, when they took out the bandits threatening Agathe, some almost properly fitting armour. Which was lucky, because when they returned to Agathe, Kassandra offered her a position on the Adrestia as a healer, and she took the job , which meant someone else following her around until they got to Delphi. Someone else who needed armour, not for fighting but just for protection. Kassandra wouldn't hurt her (and the Follower, Histiaeus, was surprisingly quickly coming around to acting as protector, not instigator), but her particular profession wasn't exactly safe .

Agathe was a bit smaller than Kassandra, and the armour--in direct contrast to Histiaeus--was almost too large, but a couple ropes and sashes made up for that. Agathe was pleased, anyway. It meant more things to attach her various satchels and sachets to, and with Histiaeus and his strength around to carry things it meant she didn't have to leave much of anything behind.

So it was that Kassandra returned to Delphi three days later, slightly bloodier and notably wealthier, with two followers and armloads of medical supplies and herbs and bandages in tow. (Histiaeus stole--or as he put it, liberated--a steed from a passing Athenian soldier, which freed up his arms to better fight. Agathe was angry at him literally dropping her supplies at the first sign of potential violence, and then grateful for the packhorse. Kassandra stayed out of that debacle by busying herself rooting through the pockets of the fallen Athenian soldier. Little drachmae , but a very pretty necklace that would fetch a good amount at market.)

Barnabas wasn't hard to find, admiring the statue of the Horsemen in front of the Temple of Apollo and regaling a horde of pilgrims with grand stories of the gods and heroes. "--prophecies that no one ever believed!" He finished with a grand gesture. The pilgrims applauded, offered him some coins or drink, and wandered away. Before all of them had dispersed, the old Captain managed to catch Kassandra's eye. "Ah! And there is the misthios of the hour! Kassandra, I was just telling the story of your namesake!"

"In Delphi, when we're going to see the Pythia ," she groused.

"Surely Apollo won't strike us down if we make our offerings!" Barnabas defended, falling in beside Kassandra as they moved further into town. He gave Histiaeus and Agathe a quick once-over, exchanged bemused yet enthused eyebrow wiggles with Kassandra, and continued to speak as he led them towards wherever he had found to bed down in the Sanctuary. "Pilgrims normally camp outside the city walls, but I was able to talk one of the local guards into allowing us some space around the back of the barracks! Er, but I only said two of us."

"Eh, I don't think we'll be here that long," Kassandra replied, shifting her sack over her shoulder to ensure her weapons were easily accessible. Presumably the pilgrims around them were decent people, but it never hurt to be prepared. "Once I get an answer from the Pythia we can head back to Pilgrim's Landing."

The barracks were near the city walls, so they could set up camp between the barracks and the wall with the ladened down steed carefully ensconced in the small space. As Barnabas headed back up the hill to the Temple and Histiaeus and Agathe set up the tent and sorted through their supplies, Kassandra grabbed her best armour and headed to the baths. No matter how much she wanted to see the Pythia , gut the Pythia , and get gone before anyone noticed, the Pythia was still an important figure and the last thing she wanted were those many, many Tiers of Mercenaries Imbros mentioned hunting her down. So playing nice it was, and part of that was at least washing off the last few weeks of dirt and blood.

Getting an excuse to repair and maintain her armour was just a bonus.

Agathe and Histiaeus had settled in when she returned, and waved her off when she offered to bring them with her. "There's been some trouble with getting to see the Pythia ," Agathe warned. "You might be waiting for a long time."

"By design," Histiaeus muttered, but he was turning out to be generally dour and pessimistic, so both women ignored the comment.

Kassandra whistled for Ikaros to precede her and pick out Barnabas in the crowd, and followed the strong wings to near where the queue meandered around the terrace to the entrance of the Temple. Off to the side sat Barnabas, beside him a hooded man in blue. They were chatting quietly on the marble bench, keeping one eye on the unmoving line of pilgrims and petitioners, but had a small wineskein they were sharing between them.

The other man--Herodotus--was an Athenian, but Kassandra grudgingly admitted that his advice was at least sensible. And, as much as she was coming to love Barnabas, his heading back to the Adrestia (and offering to take Agathe and Histiaeus along with him) meant that she could focus on the task at hand: cornering the Pythia after the guards made their move.

In this, Herodotus was irreplaceable. He was a fount of information, quick to answer any question she had and even quicker to admit that he did not know something, but he was pretty sure he knew someone who did and he'd ask as soon as possible. Three couriers had been sent out for such reasons, all paid handsomely by Herodotus and promised even more once they returned with the replies. He may or may not have used Athenian funds for that, which endeared him fiercely to Kassandra.

And so, by the time she had threatened her way in to see the Pythia , had been thrown out after an unsettling conversation, and determined to hunt down the Priestess as soon as possible, Herodotus had at least been upgraded to "somewhat trustworthy", suspicious interest in her broken spear aside. Which was why Kassandra didn't have a problem telling him about her meeting, even with Barnabas absent. Maybe he was doing it to get closer to the spear, or for some other reason, but at least what she was being told was useful .

His advice to check the Chora of Delphi for the Pythia proved fruitful almost immediately, and later, after she had hunted down Elpeanor, gained the mask and robes of the Cult of Kosmos, and determined to infiltrate them, it was Herodotus she sought out for guidance. Not that she needed much. The Cult had already proven to be a pain in her side, and if their reach extended as far as Herodotus suspected, it would be better to take them down now. Or, at least gather enough information that she could work on hunting them down later.

"Kassandra," Herodotus warned her feet from the door to the undercroft, "Be careful. These people are not to be trifled with. I do not want to see you hurt."

She managed a smile, though hidden behind her mask he couldn't see it. She rested her hand on his shoulder instead. "Thank you, Herodotus. But I am not to be trifled with, either."

Chapter Text

For as helpful as he was, Herodotus as a travelling companion was... interesting. His insistence that they go to Thermopylae immediately was grating, and coupled with him inviting himself along on her journey put Kassandra in a foul mood most of the trip East. She got little sleep, taking off in the night to hunt or explore as Herodotus slept. At least they had encountered a slave whose master had sent him to work a mine, and who desperately wanted to buy his freedom and avoid that particular fate. He had asked for drachmae , but Herodotus had suggested he travel with them, instead, and sail on the Adrestia once they reached her again. That didn't solve the issue of buying the slave, but the older man had waved both Kassandra and the slave off, making them stop at the next town to hire a courier to the former master, a decent portion of coin making the trip as well.

Which meant they also travelled with a built-in guard, perfect for when Kassandra needed some time and space for herself.

Thermopylae was everything she had dreamed of and nothing she had actually pictured. Even with the vision shown by the Spear for comparison, seeing the pass now with only rubble and old wheels and broken weapons strewn about the springs was a jarring difference from how the stories in Sparta told of it. Here they were, standing where the strings of Greece's fate had caught and frayed but not quite snapped, in the shadow of the lion of Leonidas, and all she could think was, What are we doing?

Herodotus hummed excitedly beside her, looking around with a keen eye while his hands still tremored slightly from the vision. "Oh! Those must be remains of Persian weapons--or shields, perhaps."

The Spear had awakened at his touch, something that until now it had only done for her or Myrrine, and only in special circumstances. Memories, of a sort--not necessarily their own memories, but memories of whoever held the Spear at that point. Or so Herodotus theorized as they made their way down the cliff side to where they had spotted the Adrestia docked. Admittedly after a week together he still wasn't her favourite travelling companion, but he was growing on her--and if his story about the shapes on Andros bore fruit, she might even stop silently complaining.

Barnabas on the other hand was delighted that they had a new friend to sail with. To Athens, at least. "Herodotus! Come, come, let me tell you the stories of all the things we have seen! The gods have made life aboard the Adrestia very interesting!"

Kassandra obligingly helped the scholar up, taking their travelling packs from the now former slave and then helping him up, too. "Go below, get settled, introduce yourself," she instructed him. "We leave for Andros shortly, so find a senior crew member and ask them what you need to do."

"Yes, misthios ," he agreed and scarpered.

Like in Delphi, Barnabas and Herodotus got along splendidly , and Kassandra not reluctantly went about setting up a more permanent berth for the scholar below. Even if Herodotus decided to stay in Athens, the scholar would likely want to travel again in the future, and Barnabas already swore he wouldn't allow the Athenian to sail aboard any other ship than the Adrestia .

Herodotus' information about Andros panned out, and with how excited he was to hear her report--even without seeing the ruins, the Forge--Kassandra was pretty sure that it would take a lot to keep him in Athens when they left.

Standing on the deck of the Adrestia as the coast of Attika came into view, Kassandra rubbed a hand down her arms to soothe the goosebumps. The Forge had been a ruin, but an active ruin, one that pulsed with energy and power and nearly seemed to breathe; it felt alive. And, whether her blood or the Spear, it had accepted her within. A strange sort of approval.

But approval of what? For what?

"I guess I'll need to hunt down more Cultists then," she whispered to the Spear, cradled in her hands. "If those triangles make you more powerful, I can't leave them to the Cultists."

Not that she wouldn't be hunting down the Cultists--and there had been so many --but it was an extra incentive. Something else to look forward to: earn drachmae , kill Cultists, loot amber triangles with lightning inside. She twirled the Spear around her hand once, twice; balanced it carefully on her palm before flipping it upwards and catching it again. Moonlight glinted off the new golden veins in the metal; the handle was less broken wood and splinters and now carried a faint metallic sheen that echoed starlight.

Spin, flip catch; spin, flip, catch. Spin-flip-catch. Spin. Spin, spin, flip, catch. Flip-catch.

Herodotus sidled up beside her and leaned against the rail, hands clasped together. "I assume something besides this beautiful night is on your mind, Kassandra."

Spin, spin-spin, flip... catch. "Worried about mater ." Spin.

Herodotus hummed, still looking at Selene's reflection, shattered by Poseidon into myriad slivers. "I do not know you well, but when you worry you do things. This seems to be... ignoring something."

She snorted, flipping the Spear again. "I am doing something: testing the Spear's balance now that it's been reforged."

He made a quiet noise of understanding just as Barnabas came up beside them too, the rest of the crew either asleep or nearly there. Some were splayed out on the deck behind them; the quiet noise of sleep echoed from the hold of the Adrestia , snuffles and snores alike, and Barnabas obligingly kept his voice quiet as he pressed a hand to her shoulder. "I'd be worried you'd drop that into the sea if you weren't you." She acknowledged that with a short nod, but nothing more. Even though she wasn't looking at either of them Kassandra could still see them lean around her to exchange glances out of the corner of her eye. 

Herodotus turned back to the sea, being even more careful, now, to not pay her direct attention. She could feel it, just as she could feel Ikaros perched above on the yard. "Whatever you call it, you are anxious about something, and do not want to share. That is your right, of course. But Kassandra, whatever is causing you worries, I know you will find a solution for and overcome it. Not because of the Spear," and here he did turn to her, if only to gesture to the Spear currently being tossed back and forth between her hands, "But because you yourself are more skilled and capable than anyone else I have met." He met her eyes, trying to convince her of his surety with his gaze alone.

She wanted to look away, but found herself slowly relaxing as he, too, rested a hand on her shoulder. Herodotus grinned right back. "If you ever want to talk to me, I promise you now I will not write down anything we discuss. I may make a point of knowing as much as I can, but I do not necessarily need to inform others of it."

Aha, a true Athenian: knowledge above power. And yet she found herself returning his grin, if not as wide. At this rate, he might just become another of her favourite people. "Thank you, Herodotus." As long as she didn’t need to be his escort again.

Barnabas pressed lightly against her shoulder blade, then pulled away to mirror Herodotus' previous position against the rail. "We'll be in Attika by daybreak, and Athens before the day is out. If you plan to make the best of the journey, both of you should rest."

"Ah, mother henning us, are we?" Kassandra retorted, but settled her elbows against the rail as well, leaning over slightly to get more comfortable. "And I guess you have no desire to join us in Athens?"

Barnabas coughed out a laugh. "Join you? And who will prepare your getaway for when you cause chaos in the streets?"

She jostled his elbow with her own. "Not as much chaos as on the seas!"

"Aye, that I'm getting familiar with," Barnabas agreed, because the trip from Lokris to Andros hadn't exactly been pirate-free. "Well, Herodotus? Should I join your merry band of pilgrims to Athens?"

He surprised both of them by answering, "Yes," and, "Though not immediately." Herodotus settled in beside Kassandra again, the three of them lined up against the rail like ducks in a row. "There is a small port near here, facing Keos. If we dock there and Kassandra and I go over land, it will be easier to gain access to the city without questions or word of our arrival reaching ears we want to avoid. If you want to ensure for us a quick getaway, it will take slightly more than half a day to sail to Piraeus from here, but the Athenian fortifications ensure that we can reach the Port without needing to go through a gate." And therefore without needing to avoid guards.

Also, we . Kassandra felt herself grinning again, slowing in her spinning of the Spear. Herodotus might just become a permanent part of the Adrestia yet.

"Ah, an escape route! Then I suppose you don't want me far from the ship," and if she didn't know him better, Kassandra could swear he sounded almost relieved.

"Well, I am reporting to my dear friend Perikles," Herodotus retorted, "And with the war and the roads so dangerous, of course I hired a misthios to guard my travels for the last little while. However, Athenian politics are rather more complicated than I understand they are in Sparta, and having a way to leave the city quickly in case some of Perikles' enemies decide we could be a liability would be appreciated."

"Into the tall grass, among the snakes," Kassandra hissed.

Herodotus and Barnabas both chuckled. "Yes... though perhaps, this time, they can be dealt with without murder?"

"Elpeanor needed to die," which was partially a defence but also... something of a promise. Because Elpeanor manipulated and controlled and ruined lives, mostly for the Cult, some just because he could; Perikles' (and Herodotus') enemies in Athens might do something of the same, but so far they didn't have any evidence to prove it. No wrong doing, no death.

For now. If Athenian politics were so cut-throat, she would be surprised if there weren't a few bounties in the offing... especially if those bounties were on her, Herodotus, or another of Perikles' friends and allies.

And for all that Herodotus was talking up Perikles, Kassandra had to admit to herself: if the price was good enough, if Perikles gave her the opportunity and the incentive, it would be difficult not to put a dagger to his throat. But, at the same time... he was a friend of Herodotus, and Herodotus was... growing on her. Quickly. Maybe she wouldn't--but then others might, and she'd be fighting mercenaries in the streets. But if it came to that, Barnabas would be in Piraeus.

She whistled at the realization. "You're more shrewd than I gave you credit for, Herodotus."

He was still smiling, but it took on an edge. "I have no idea what you mean by that, Kassandra. I am an old man, a mere scholar, hands through which the stories of the ages are recorded for future generations."

"Ahaha! So you say, my friend," Barnabas laughed, "But I think I am coming to know you better than that!"

"It almost sounds like you think the worst of me, Barnabas."

"No, my friend, never!"

They laughed, Kassandra joining in, and then let the conversation die out. And so they sailed to Attika, the crew asleep and the three of them awake, watching the stars wheel overhead and Selene make her gracious descent to the horizon--and Kassandra put Alexios, Deimos , out of her mind and focused on the now.

Chapter Text

The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, the waiters at the outdoor cafe struggled to hear orders over the crowds and the merchants calling out their one-day-only sales. Technically Saturday classes were still happening (and would be, for another few hours yet) but Sawada's group had long ago set a precedent for only showing up to school when they felt like. Rei was only off because of an appointment, and instead of making the trip back to school had gotten permission to skive off afterwards. To do homework, of course, she was a responsible student, but if she was working on it at her favourite open-air cafe instead of in her room at home it was strictly because the trip home would be much longer than the trip back to school.

It had been quiet when she first arrived, most adults still shopping the morning sales further down the main street, but as time passed the tables became more crowded. Twice now someone had joined Rei at her table, took some time to quietly sip their drinks and munch their snacks, and then had continued on, barely a word said between them. With the warm sun and cool breeze, Rei couldn't imagine a better day.

Her current table mate was a foreign woman, tree-dappled sunlight glinting off the bronzed skin of a scarred nose and brown hair tied in a loose braid draped over one shoulder. A cup of tea sat beside a small pastry, the latter of which was barely touched. Rei hadn't paid much attention to her when she first sat down, thinking she'd eat and leave like the others, but the woman had spent the last half an hour people watching and nibbling her pastry. A waiter had been summoned four times in the last twenty minutes to refill the cup of tea, but Rei could hardly blame her. The cafe was known for their drinks, after all.

"So," the woman addressed her, finally noticing Rei's blatant staring. "You don't get many foreigners here, do you?"

Except she spoke with barely a hint of an accent, which aside from 'existent' Rei couldn't place. "Well... there are a few, but the same people come back instead of new people."

The woman hummed, taking another sip of tea. "I'm still a new face then, huh?"

Rei didn't know how to reply and so went back to her homework. And aside from a single, "X is equal to plus/minus 8, there," the woman let her.

And then Sawada showed up.

Not Sawada-and-his-group, because if that was the case Rei would have packed up and been back home faster than Yamamoto could hit a baseball, but Sawada by himself. Which was also notable, in the sense that Rei couldn't remember that happening in the entirety of their high school career. Apparently Sawada had been something of a loner--or more accurately, a social pariah--at the beginning of middle school, but somewhere along the lines he not only made friends, but managed for those friends to be terrifying and terrifyingly loyal. Obsessive, even. Rei was quietly of the opinion that there was some kind of a cult going on, but she--like most of the student body who didn't actually attend Namichuu and so didn't quite have all the history--preferred to stay away whenever possible. Cult or no cult, she wasn't getting involved.

But there was Sawada, having somehow ditched his entourage, dressed in surprisingly formal clothes (Rei had only occasion to see him out of uniform a handful of times, and his normal clothing seemed to consist of comfortable trousers and hoodies). Button down shirt, vest, slacks, dress shoes... almost like he was on a date. Or a job interview, perhaps. He wandered inside the cafe, and Rei was content to let that be the end of that. (Sawada skipping class, after all, was nothing unusual.)

Then he was outside again, receipt in hand, and clearly looking for a table. Rei turned back to her homework again, determined now to ignore her classmate, but the woman across from her mused, "He needs a seat," and then waved Sawada over.

Rei cursed, and started to pack up her books. "Here," she informed the woman, "he can sit here."

"Oh, sit down," the woman retorted, "You still haven't finished your homework or your drink. There's enough space."

Not nearly enough for Rei's comfort zone, but Sawada was already there, and the woman had snagged a chair from an already crowded table nearby, and then he was settling down between them with a grateful sigh.

"Thank you," he murmured, pinning his receipt to the table using the dish of sugar packets. "I--oh! Tachibana-san, I didn't see you there." He frowned then, checked his cellphone. "Is school already out?"

Rei bit back the, "Of course you don't know when school starts and ends, you're never there," and instead managed a quiet, "I had an appointment this morning."

"Oh," Sawada breathed, "Sorry for prying."

Rei shrugged, giving up the pretense of packing up and starting on the maths homework again. A waiter wandered by with a pot of green tea, and both Rei and the woman signaled for refills. While Rei worked and the woman people watched, Sawada sighed and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and clearly enjoying the day. From the corner of her eye Rei could see his shoulders loosening, his posture slowly slumping into something more relaxed but also... tried. He looked like he could fall asleep at the table, Rei realized.

But, no, not her business.

The woman had no such compunctions. "Busy day?"

Sawada snorted, opening one eye to look at his table mates. "Kind of? Crazy tutors."

She hummed, lifting her pastry to nibble at the edge. "Take a vacation."

"What? And face the consequences for skipping everything? No thanks."

"For a day, then."

"That's what I'm trying to do."

Which explained why he was by himself, no entourage or sort-of stalkers to be seen. Rei shook her head, finding herself almost sympathetic.

Another waiter came by then, with a small white mug and dark liquid that smelled distinctly like coffee, and a... bowl of soup? Well, it was almost lunch. Maybe she should order something more substantial, too.

"Thanks," Sawada said with a forced smile. He went for the coffee first, made a face, and proceeded to rip open and dump half the sugar packets on the table into his mug.

The woman smirked. "Not to your taste, then?"

"I'm trying," Sawada groused. "Real men drink black coffee my--"

"Now now, you're in the presence of ladies," the woman cut him off, "Please watch your language."

"That's not part of my training until at least next year," and he really did sound relieved about that. Though, what kind of training was he undergoing? Rei tapped her pencil against her notebook, grateful that she had her texts out and could pretend ignorance of the conversation.

"Step it up, then."

"Uh, no thanks."

"Well-"

"SAWADA!!!"

Sawada instantly ducked--no, it could only be described as dove--under the table, the woman needing to reach out to steady his nearly overturned chair. Rei just stared at him as Sasagawa Ryohei ran down the main street, scanning the cafe tables quickly before yelling, "EXTREME HIDE AND SEEK!" and continuing on.

Instead of reemerging, Sawada poked his head above the table, smiled sheepishly at them, and then grabbed coffee and soup and ducked back underneath. Rei and the woman shared an equally exasperated and bemused glance, before Rei lent sideways to get a good luck at her classmate. Who was sitting on the pavement, legs crisscrossed, coffee balanced on one knee and soup on the other. "Sawada, what are you doing."

"Hiding," he admitted sheepishly. "I, uh... really need a day to myself."

"Uh...huh," but Rei could see that. She needed some downtime too, especially with two very loud, very present siblings. So she went back to ignoring him, focusing on her homework as the woman returned to people watching and politely chugging tea and Sawada continued to hide.

Which worked out well for him, as after Sasagawa the elder came Sasagawa the younger, and Yamamoto, and Gokudera, the Midori girl that hung around, and Kurokawa, and--

Yeah, it looked like Sawada really had run away from his usual troupe. "Your life that busy, Sawada?" Rei asked out of the corner of her mouth, arranging her textbook so it was standing on the table in better light... and conveniently hiding her face. And any speaking she might be doing.

The woman glanced up, shot her an amused glance, and looked back out to the crowd. "Subtle."

Sawada snorted, ducking further under the table as he cuddled coffee and soup to his chest. "I love my family, but...."

"They're crazy?" Rei finished for him.

She couldn't see his reaction as she'd returned to her books, but the woman chuckled and titled her cup of tea towards her. "They certainly sound it."

"They're not that bad," he refuted, "Just, er... enthusiastic."

"Obsessive," Rei interjected.

The sound Sawada made was almost a groan, or a muttered complaint, or something, but the woman was laughing loud enough to drown out the quieter sounds of their environment. Not quite enough to mask the merchants and shoppers further down the street, but the patrons at the surrounding tables were quick to glance up and then away at the sudden noise. "Well, it certainly sounds like you've been busy," she chuckled, and shifted, and based on Sawada's sudden yelp had probably kicked, or at least nudged, their hiding table mate.

After a quick glance to make sure he was okay (the coffee was apparently finished, but the soup hadn't been--thankfully it was mostly clear and Sawada's trousers were dark coloured), Rei looked up at the woman again. "Busy? What do you mean?"

The woman shrugged, sitting back casually in her chair. Now that Rei was really looking, she could pick out more distinctive traits than bronzed skin and scarred nose and braided hair. Threaded through her hair were small golden beads, a few forming a loose tiara around the crown of her head. A golden pendant hung on a thin chain, looking almost like a caduceus. A loose white very short-sleeved blouse with a bateau neckline showed off both collar bones and her rather impressively muscled arms, and while Rei couldn't exactly determine if the woman was wearing a skirt, very loose slacks or an actual dress, her quick glances under the table had revealed glimpses of toned, equally strong legs. The gladiator sandals didn't quite match the elegance of the woman's upper body, especially the golden bangles on both arms, but they certainly didn't take away from the outfit, either.

And to finish it all off were brown eyes, staring at Rei with an amused glint. Brown, except when they flashed amber-golden in the sunlight.

"It's been a while since I've seen him," the woman answered, rolling one shoulder back. "And he didn't even come meet me at the airport."

"I saw you two weeks ago," Sawada groused, sticking his head over the table to place the empty coffee cup and now-empty soup bowl down. He grabbed a handful of napkins before hiding again. "And what happened last time? Torrential storms. Pirates. Marauders. Pretty sure there were a couple hitmen and assassins there, too, because that's always fun. I even got seasick! I haven't gotten seasick since--er, since the Shark, I think?"

The woman bent over to look at Sawada, once again hidden under the table. "What about the Tempest?"

"Can we not?"

"We are."

"There was fire!"

"Exactly, you were in your element."

"Not on a burning ship--"

"I'm sorry," Rei interrupted, closing her book and doing her best to pin both the woman and Sawada with a look. "You two know each other already? You're not strangers?"

The woman continued to smile, though it was definitely amused now... and probably at Rei's expense instead of Sawada's. "You could say that."

Sawada reemerged, taking his seat and gingerly patting the side and knees of his trousers with the napkins. "Yeah, uh, sorry. Tachibana-san, I should probably introduce you. Aunt Kass, this is Tachibana Rei-san, my classmate from highschool. Tachibana-san," and here he flourished his hand towards the woman, bowing exaggeratedly over the table, "may I present my Aunt, Lady Kassandra, Daughter of the Agiad, Commander of the Adrestia."

The woman--Kassandra A-something that Rei couldn't pronounce even in her thoughts, let alone aloud--reached out to whap Sawada on the hand. "Stop that. Tachibana-san, just call me Kassandra. Or misthios."

"Don't call her misthios," Sawada warned. "She'll forget where she is."

"I won't."

Rei looked between them slowly, seeing some movement in her peripheral vision but ignoring the incoming waiter. "What is... what does misthios mean?" She stumbled over the pronunciation, but it wasn't nearly as bad as whatever Kassandra's family name was. And Rei knew enough foreigners and foreign names to tell the given from the family. Half of Sawada's group and 'family' were foreigners, not to mention the few that had moved to Namimori through the years. Or the ones who visited every few months.

(Kassandra being Sawada's aunt wasn't any degree of surprising, not given the wide variety of people he called 'family' and the blonde man who had occasionally subbed in as their English teacher being Sawada's apparent brother.)

Kassandra leaned back in her chair, and it was only then that Rei noticed her fiddling with the bangles on her wrist. Specifically, the leather bracer and small throwing knife hidden under them. "Why Tachibana-san," Kassandra purred, shooting a quelling glance in Sawada's spluttering direction. "I'm the Mercenary Queen."