The Argive Ch. 041-045

Damian of Argos was dead.

Xanthos lost track of how long he looked at his dead father. What was only a matter of minutes felt like hours, all the while Dorrusas and his Spartans gave him a wide berth. Several Spartans came and went at that time, no doubt helping with the remaining guards. Finally, he felt Dorrusas' hand on his shoulder.

"King Xanthos, the palace is secure. Your reign has begun."

The words were bittersweet. Xanthos nodded his head and was about to order the Spartans to take over the city's gates when someone new burst into the room.

Eulalia took one look at the blood on Xanthos' chiton before her eyes fell on her dead husband. Confusion turned to agonizing sorrow as she burst into tears and rushed to his side, cradling his lifeless head in her lap.

It was a testament to her intelligence that she didn't ask what happened. Eulalia glared at her son as she rocked her husband back and forth.

"What have you done?" she cried, spitting out each word like a foul-tasting stew. "How could you? Your own father!"

Xanthos swallowed the lump in his throat. "I wouldn't expect you to understand, Mother. It was for the good of the city."

"The good of the city," she mocked. "The good of the city!"

She grabbed a bowl from a nearby table and hurled it at him.

"You fool, you've killed us all! You killed your own father just to please the Spartans!"

"Everything will be fine now. I've secured peace for Argos--"

"No, no, no, no," she said, shaking her head furiously. "You've only securedwar for Argos. You're not my son, Xanthos. You're not my son!"

That statement hurt just as much as watching his father die. Xanthos shook his head.

"You're upset, I can see that. In time, you'll see that I did what was necessary."

"No, I won't," she seethed. "I curse you, Xanthos. I curse you to Hades. You are no son of mine. You never will be!"

With those troubling words, Eulalia produced a knife that had been hidden in her chiton. She raised it in the air and brought it down on her stomach multiple times, not stopping until she lacked the strength to continue anymore.

Xanthos watched from feet away as his mother's arms finally stopped moving, and her lifeless corpse came to a rest next to her dead husband.

He didn't know what to say or where to begin. In a matter of minutes, he'd lost both his parents--all in his undeniable quest for power.

Was the price worth it? Did he really want to be king this badly?

Dorrusas was the first to speak after she was dead. He snapped his fingers, getting Xanthos' attention.

"One less obstacle in the way," he muttered. "Come on, we have a city to secure."

Dorrusas moved to the door but once he found that Xanthos wasn't following him, he turned around.

"King Xanthos, are you with us?" he said, challenging the new monarch. "This is the first critical juncture of your reign. Are you going to choose glory or regret?"

With one last look at his parents, Xanthos turned to face Dorrusas. "Secure the city. Do it now."

Chapter 43: Changing Sides

The news of King Damian's death spread across Argos like wildfire. No more than an hour had passed since the king's death before it was being talked about across the marketplaces and temples. Of course, no one had failed to notice the rush of Spartan warriors that had attacked the palace at dawn either.

There were many questions for the people of Argos. Had the Spartans launched a sneak attack? Did they arrive in Argos a day early?

Most importantly, who was now in charge?

The last question was answered around midmorning when news from the palace was announced in the main marketplace. King Xanthos was now in charge after the death of his father, and the city would be entering the Peloponnesian League.

The coup was nearly complete.

The small band of Spartan soldiers rushed to secure the gates into the city, and now all they were waiting for was the arrival of the rest of their army.

The army of Argos was ordered not to interfere by the express instructions from King Xanthos.

It was that last order that left Theron with a profound sense of confusion. Right before his eyes, his city was being taken by a foreign power and yet there was nothing that could be done about it.

All throughout the morning, members of the Elites, the small band of dedicated warriors that formed the core of the Argive army--those men that were led directly by Praxis, kept stopping by his house. They all wondered what the response was going to be to the Spartans.

They also wondered where in Hades was Praxis?

No one had seen him since he was given a last-minute mission by his stepfather days before. And now when the city needed him the most, he was nowhere to be found.

Theron didn't know what to do. And that was the reason why he found himself in front of Lysandra's house, banging on her door around midday.

If anyone knew where Praxis was or when he might be coming back, it was Lysandra.

The redhead opened her door warily, only relaxing when she saw the familiar face of Theron.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed, beckoning him and several other members of the Elites into her house. "It's dangerous out there. You all should have more sense than this!"

"It's the very fact that it's dangerous that finds us here," replied Theron. "Where is Praxis? We have to stop the Spartans and no one knows where he is."

Lysandra crossed her arms in front of her. "I don't know. All he would tell me before he left was that he was going on a short patrol to Cynuria but that's it."

"Cynuria! What in the world could possibly be in Cynuria that's worth his time?"

"I wish I knew," she replied. "I thought he'd be back by now. He said he'd be back before the Spartan army arrived so I'm just as anxious for him as you are."

"He would know what to do right now," said a frustrated Theron moments later. "With the Spartans entering the city and Damian dead, everything is in flux. No one seems to know who's really in charge and the army isn't being given the order to assemble."

"I heard that," she replied. "I don't know what kind of game Xanthos is playing but it looks like he really means to turn us over to the Spartan army when they arrive. This could be it for Argos."

"It doesn't have to be," came a voice from behind her.

Both Theron and Lysandra turned to see Lysander standing near the door. He was fully dressed in his armor and he held his shield in front of him.

"Lysander, why are you dressed like that!" hissed Lysandra. "You act like you're about to go to war!"

"Maybe we are," said Lysander. "Maybe war is already here."

"Put your shield away right now! This is no time to be playing hero!"

"I think your brother is right," said Theron. "We need to resist this Spartan takeover."

"But Xanthos said not to resist them--"

"Which is exactly the reason why we need to do so," interrupted Theron. "And I think if Praxis was here, he would say the same thing. We don't know the reason why Xanthos is in charge now and his father is dead, but we can only assume something foul is in play right now. Maybe Xanthos is in league with the Spartans. Maybe this is his takeover bid. If that's the case, we have a golden opportunity to act right now."

"Why is that?" asked Lysandra.

"Because there's so little of them in the city," answered Lysander. "The Spartans in Argos right now are few in numbers and they are mostly concentrated at the gates. If we gathered most of the Elites here, we could overwhelm them."

"But only until the main army arrives, Lysander. What would you do then?"

"We might not have to do anything at that point," said Theron. "We could kick out the Spartans in the city, mobilize the army, and hold the walls against the Spartans. They won't be able to attack us in force if we're defending the walls and sooner or later, they'll either go home or abandon the siege and go north to face their true enemy, Corinth."

"Or if they stay, it could even motivate Corinth to come south to us," said Lysander with some excitement. "Either way, it buys us time. And it gives us the chance to get an ally in this fight."

"Both of you have lost your minds," said Lysandra, throwing both hands in the air. "You're talking about fighting the Spartans in the streets! You're talking about starting a war here, today, against an enemy that's greatly superior to us!"

"If Praxis was here, he would say that's the only option we have," said Theron quietly. "The war is already here. The last thing we should do is run away from it. We have to stand and fight!"

There was a muttering of agreement from the other members of the Elites in the room, and quite suddenly Lysandra seemed to find herself without any allies. Once that happened, she didn't protest any further.

Their decision made, it was now time to talk about execution.

"So how do we do this?" asked Lysander. "We need to move quickly. From the sounds of it, the Spartan army will be here by late afternoon."

"That gives us a few hours to work with," said Theron. "We need to get word to the rest of the army as well as take the rest of the Elites and start killing off Spartans. We have four major gates into the city, and there are Spartans posted at each of them. If we split up into two main groups, we can overpower the Spartans there."

Theron turned to look at two other members of the Elites. "You two get the word out for the army to begin assembling. Have every man you reach tell ten more men until the entire army is ready to go. We'll assemble in the marketplace in two hours' time, at which point we should have control of the city."

"What about Xanthos?" asked Lysandra suddenly. "What if he countermands the order?"

Theron took a moment to respond. "If he does, then we'll assume he's in league with the Spartans. He can share their fate at that point. Let's get moving."

*****

By noon, Xanthos found himself in near total control of Argos. The Spartans under Dorrusas had done their job and secured the gates as well as the palace. Not a single guard of his father's was still alive.

Even more important, the Argive army wasn't about to contest the takeover (unbeknownst to him).

Things were starting to look up. His well-formed and carefully-executed plan had come together nicely.

Of course, the death of his parents was the single blemish on the otherwise flawless takeover but Xanthos knew that it was necessary. Even his mother's sudden death wasn't hitting him too hard.

He was blind to the treasure that ultimate power had brought to him.

There was someone else inside the palace that was satisfied with the change. Or rather, joyous might be the better word.

Shortly after midday, Xanthos found his wife Melitta in the middle of moving her things into his mother's former bedroom. She was nearly ecstatic as she gestured for her slaves to move her belongings. At one point, she finally noticed Xanthos watching her.

"There he is, the King of Argos," she proclaimed loudly, rushing into his arms. "May his reign be long and peaceful!"

"You're in an excellent mood," he noted.

"What's not to be happy about? My husband calls the shots in Argos now. And he's just pulled off the coup of the century. How can I not be happy?"

Xanthos gestured to the closest slave, who was carrying a box of jewelry. "You're already moving into my mother's room?"

Melitta beamed with a smile. "But of course! The queen deserves to live in the queen's quarters, does she not?"

"I just thought you might take more time to get settled in," said Xanthos, shrugging in the process.

Melitta grabbed his face with her hand. "I don't need more time. Right now, this isour time. We're in charge now. You've taken that power from your father. I know you're going to be upset about it but it was the right thing to do. And that's not mentioning the fate that happened to that troublemaker, Praxis. Everything is going to be perfect moving forward. Just wait and see!"

While Xanthos was grateful for her optimism, he wasn't nearly as excited about the future, especially now that he was practically a Spartan vassal. But at least Melitta was happy.

If only the same could be said for hisother wife.

Xanthos found Astara in her quarters after separating from Melitta. There was a bag on her bed and she looked to be packing but unlike Melitta, she didn't look to be moving to another room.

No, Astara looked to be packing to escape from Argos--something that instantly put him in a bad mood.

"Blessed Demeter, what do you think you're doing?" he demanded, causing her to jump. She turned to face him, her dark hair flying through the air.

"Xanthos! I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in just now."

"That doesn't matter," roared Xanthos, pointing at the bag on the bed. "Why are you packing? Where in the fuck do you think you're going?"

Astara swallowed heavily and put her hands behind her back. It was the posture of a guilty child staring back at an angry parent.

"There's so much death in the city right now," she said quietly. "War is here. It's not safe in the palace. I thought I might go somewhere. Somewhere safer."

With all his might, Xanthos reached his hand back and slapped her across the face. "You think about leaving my city? Now, after I've become king? Who the fuck gives you that right?"

Astara shrieked when he hit her. Her hand went to her face, clutching at her cheek while her scared eyes centered on him. She took a step back, not saying a word.

Xanthos stuck his finger in her face. "You will do no such thing. You are forbidden from leaving the city. I'm the king here, Astara, and you are one of its queens. I forbid you to leave!"

"But what about the--"

Xanthos smacked her again, harder this time. Astara fell to her bed, rolling off the side before she backed herself into the corner. Her eyes became wild as if she thought that death could find her just as easily as it did for his parents that morning.

"We will speak no more of this!" roared Xanthos. "You will stay here. Or else I'll get your family involved. You wouldn't want to put your precious parents at risk, would you? You've seen the lengths I'm willing to go to with my own parents. What makes you think I wouldn't do the same to yours?

Astara's mouth fell open as tears started to fall down her cheeks. She shut her mouth and closed her eyes, but that did little to stop the tears.

"Do you understand me, Astara? Tell me now, so I can make sure that you've heard me."

Astara wiped the tears from her cheeks. She nodded slowly.

"I'll stay," she whispered. "I won't go anywhere."

Chapter 44: Back from the Dead

"Wait for the signal. Wait, wait, wait... go!"

Theron and Lysander burst out of their hiding spot at that moment, and they ran as quickly as they could toward the watchtower that guarded the northern gate. It was being manned by no more than five Spartans--a woefully underpowered retinue but also a sign of just how few Spartans were actually in the city.

Behind Theron and Lysander were ten other Elites, giving them two-to-one odds against the Spartans. They would need all the numbers they could get. Even outnumbered, the Spartans would prove to be formidable fighters.

That was aptly demonstrated when the closest Spartan to Theron yanked out his sword and met his first thrust, moving with the speed of a man that was well-trained for combat. Theron countered, swinging his sword across the Spartan's chest and narrowly missing his body. Around him, Lysander and the others were in the process of dispatching the other Spartans. Someone gave out a cry--a familiar voice of another Elite.

He wouldn't be the first or the last Argive to die today.

Theron kept moving until he finally found the opening he was looking for. The Spartan fought confidently, like he was a man used to attacking but in that confidence, Theron found his weakness. He left himself too open with his attacks, not used to an enemy who could strike back once he was on the defensive.

It was this weakness that Theron used to pierce the man's chest, quickly ending the fight as the gasping Spartan fell to his knees.

With his main enemy finished, Theron teamed up with the others to kill off the remaining Spartans until not one remained alive at the north gate.

"That's the last of them," said Theron, wiping his sword clean. "Get word to the rest of the army to man the north gate again and let's move on to the south gate."

One of the Elites went to the marketplace, where the rest of the army was still assembling, to carry back the message. The rest of them jogged quickly through the city, reaching the south gate a few moments later. It was even easier to dispatch the Spartans at this gate, seeing as they caught them unaware. The fight was over in less than a minute, and five more Spartans were added to the death toll.

Soon enough, more news came from the other gates, news that came from Lysandra.

"The east gate is taken and the west gate is in the process right now," she informed them before looking at their progress. "Is the city ours?"

"Nearly," replied Lysander. "We just need to take the palace. There are almost certainly more Spartans there though, and it won't fall as easily as these isolated gate posts."

"We can get the rest of the army to help us. Once we do that, we'll have total control of the city before the Spartans arrive. Then we can--"

Theron never finished his sentence. One of the Elites standing closest to the gate pointed his finger to the south, where a limping person was making his way closer to the city.

"Who is that out there?" asked the Elite that noticed him. "That looks like the foreigner, doesn't it?"

"Praxis!" yelled Lysandra, rushing to the gate. She looked out on the limping man and started waving her arms. "It's him!"

Almost all of them set out in a headlong run to reach him. The closer they came, the more they realized that something wasn't right.

Praxis looked to be in bad shape.

He nearly fell over when Lysandra collided with him, and he let out a scream in pain at the bodily contact.

"Praxis, what's wrong?" asked Lysandra, her eyes of hope turning to dismay. "What happened to you?"

That was when she noticed the dried blood on his chiton. His color wasn't quite right either, his face being deathly pale.

"Blessed Demeter, you're hurt, Praxis," she said, her fingers trying to find the wound. She almost fainted when she found it.

"I'm still alive," he croaked. "But barely. They tried to kill me."

"Who tried to kill you?" asked Theron. "Where did you go?"

"On the trip to Cynuria," answered Lysandra, remembering what he told her. "Damian's guards. They really tried to kill you?"

"They left me for dead," confirmed Praxis. "They waited until I was distracted and then pierced me." He gestured to his wound. "Not sure how long I was on the ground for but the underworld clearly doesn't want me yet. I'm stuck here in the world of the living." Finally, Praxis seemed to realize that something wasn't right. He gestured to the walls. "What's going on in the city?"

"We're not entirely sure but Spartans are in the city already," said Theron. "It's a small group of them, and they took over all the gates and the palace. Damian is dead."

Praxis' eyes burned with hatred at the mere mention of the king's name. "You're certain about this? He's really dead?"

"As dead as they get," replied Lysandra. "Eulalia too. The city is abuzz with the news. Xanthos is in charge and from what we've seen, he's in league with the Spartans."

Praxis started to shake his head a moment later. "It all makes sense now. All of it."

"What makes sense, Praxis?"

"Xanthos. He's been up to something ever since we got back from our mutual exiles," answered Praxis. "I've seen him sulking around the city, looking like he was up to no good. This was what he was doing. It was his plot to have the Spartans take over the city and to replace his father."