He's to take your word without proof.

With Victor and Barticus at your side, you show Lord-Marshal Raxius the places set up for the upcoming Games. In a gesture of good faith he dismisses all but two of his most senior guards and by the time you reach the upper edge of the fields it is just the six of you overlooking the freshly mowed pasture.

"As you can see, we have set up an arena for Dueling, Mock battles, and Wrestling." You walk slowly down the sloped path to the meadows that lie alongside the broad slow moving river. "We also cleared a field for Javelin Throwing and Archery." Before you can continue Barticus asks:

"Brother, will there be Horse Racing?"

"Don't worry, there are two tracks set up. One is through those woods; the terrain is rough with steep banks and jumps over several small streams. The second," you swing your hand from the woods along the river to higher ground "is on smooth open fields to a vineyard roughly a mile to the east and back." You turn to your other friend anticipating his question. "Before you ask, Victor, there will be knife throwing along with a variety of gambling games in a large tent being erected west of the camp. Although you may not want to bother because Alexia is entering and she has yet to lose."

"King Kalion, what of the Drake Riders?" Lord Raxius seems genuinely impressed with the scope of the games. "Several of our Riders expressed interest in competing with those of the other city states."

"Yes, My Lord, the Drake Race will be held as a two-part main event where the Riders will race around the city three times then will fly along the forest and shoot targets in the trees to acquire points. I'm proud of this event because it will be a test of a Rider's control, his drake's endurance, and the accuracy of the pair after they've been stressed."

"No **** capture?" He asks, and you frown at the mention of one of these brutal tests of skill common among Riders. Slaves are set sprinting across the field when the Drakes come into view and the Riders swoop down upon them with nets or lassos to try to pluck the running targets from their feet before they can reach the safety of the tree line. It is a game that your father banned even before you were born, and you refused to let your Riders even practice this skill used by raiders in search of fresh slaves. Not only is it a celebration of a most despicable act, but too often the slaves lifted into the air are either strangled by nooses tightening around their throats or dropped to their deaths as the Rider's ropes and nets break apart.

"No, Lord Marshal, your Riders will have to forgo that particular pleasure." Your tone is particularly somber, but thankfully you are by now well away from any eavesdroppers. "I hope, Lord-Marshal, that you came to talk of something more important than tomorrow's Games. Did you receive my note regarding Apollopol's **** attempt? It is my belief at least some in your alliance are working with the High Counsel of Athenapolis."

"Yes, your Majesty, I passed the information to my intelligence officers, but without any chance to interview the parties, I see little hope in confirming your information." When he hears your soft sigh of frustration you see why this man was appointed to head the United Armies.

"It is unfortunate that you spirited the 'assassin' away to Kalion before anyone could speak to him. Most of my officers see this as just another attempt on your part to weaken the morale of our United Armies, and frankly I have no proof that they are wrong." The two princes by you side stiffen when they hear the man all but accuse you of lying, but they hold their tongues and wait to see how you react.

"My word, Lord Marshal, should be enough for you and your officers." You meet the man's eyes until he looks away.

"Alright, your Majesty." He nods slowly in what might almost be a bow, "As I said, I gave your note to my most trusted men to look into. Maybe they can turn up some evidence to back your incendiary claims." He looks over the mowed fields and the tents that are being erected. "I hope, Sire, that these Games of yours will ease some of the distrust my people have of your motivations." He gestures pointedly to your companions. "Horsemen, as you know King Kalion, are all but useless in taking a city, they do however cause a significant amount of tension in the armies camped outside the walls. It might help persuade my people of your neutrality if your guests continued on their way after the games."

He smiles again and taking your arm in his, turns back towards the tents of your camp overlooking the mowed meadows where the Games will be taking place.

"My champions and I will return tomorrow to enjoy the games. Until then, oh wise King Kalion, I offer my thanks for the hospitality." As you walk with him up the gentle slope you consider what the Lord Marshal said about your Oath-brothers. Having their cavalry in your camp greatly strengthens your hand, but you risk turning the United Armies against you. You doubt that your Kalion Guard could be trapped by the forces on the other side of the river, but if your presence forces the United Armies to divide their forces, Athenapolis might survive the siege. Can you afford to let Athenapolis continue as it has for the past twenty years, a safe haven for the slaver guilds who capture, train and breed ****-girls to sell to the rest of the Hellenic city-states?

On the other hand, if you do nothing, the United Armies will certainly take Athenapolis (if not the citadel) and if what you hear is true, the female prizes will be auctioned off like livestock. Thousands of naked Athenian women and teens from all walks of life will be sold from the raised stages in the central square to any man who had the gold to buy them.

Your jaw tightens as you consider the scale of this enterprise. Mothers and daughters, rich and poor, married widowed or maiden - with no regard given to whether the captives shared in their city's vices - would all be collared and offered up to any man with the money to buy them. If the terms you've heard are true, even the priestesses and acolytes who serve in your mother's Temple will be sold for men to use as they wish.

As angry as the idea that those holy virgins would be considered spoils of war to be despoiled by men eager to violate their pure untouched bodies, the thought of Sandrine standing proudly from the **** block wearing nothing more than a heavy iron ring around her neck makes you want to scream into the blue sky above.