Your Birthright

With the tension of the moment broken, the Head Priest of Ares in Athenapolis seems to recover some of his dignity and power. He bows deeply to your father inviting him into the sanctuary before the rest of the assembled follow you and the other priests up the steps and through the heavy doors. A quick survey of the sturdy building reveals that it is much like other chapels dedicated to the war god. Shields from every nation ring the walls and a large sand-covered circular ring is prominent beneath the alter at the back of open room. The room is dim, lit only by the rays of the new day dawn streaming in through the open door and a ring of windows high on the walls above. At night the large braziers that surround the central fighting ring would be lit, but in the early morning hours these large brass basins are cold and dark.

You get the impression that Ares is irked at the temple's small size and plain appearance, but it feels pretty impressive to you even if it's not one of the war god's main temples. You have visited the great hall in Polares and witnessed a contest between one-hundred warriors all vying for the attention of your father on a fighting ring eight times the size of this one. On Accor the fighting ring is not as large but you have heard that the walls of that temple are covered with murals fashioned from the semiprecious stones found on the distant island. Perhaps it is simply your father's pride showing but you wonder if his irritation is more because you plan to share the limited knowledge you have of the unseen enemy sealed beneath the city long ago by your mother with the help of Apollo. Most mortals believed the stories to be little more than legends and myths to keep curious children away from any entrance to the dangerous catacombs below, but because of your contact with your mother, you know otherwise. With the abdication and disappearance of the last King of Athenapolis came a rise in missing people. This was linked by many to the rise in power of the slaver's guild in the city, but what if there is a more sinister cause for these disappearances?

"Lady Sandrine," you offer your hand to the young woman and lead her from the crowd to the circle under the alter. "What can you tell us of the catacombs that lie beneath your city?" There is no reason to believe that this mysterious young woman would know much that would help, but on the other hand, you know only the few hints shared by your mother in her vision and the Lord Marshal not even that much.

"The undercity is a cursed realm filled with demons and monsters fused together by the old ones." Sandrine's voice fills the hall as she speaks of the catacombs beneath your very feet. "There are some adventurer's who venture into the labyrinth of tunnels and chambers in search of items of magic, but thankfully through the grace of our goddess, the monsters below are sealed for eternity in their tombs." Remembering your mother's warning you press her on this last claim.

"Are you sure of this?"

"Yes your Majesty, the wards were set by Athena herself and have been monitored by her clerics and those of Apollo." Her clear eyes meet yours without wavering and for a moment it feels as if you are the only two people in the giant vaulted chamber. "It has been promised by Athena herself, no **** on Earth or in the heavens can break this divine seal." You wonder if she'd be this confident if she knew that her goddess had been effectively banished from her own city for the past twenty years. Before you can figure out a way to share this information, your attention shifts to Raxius who has moved to the low alter scowling at the two metallic rods that lie haphazardly on the polished surface.

"Is nothing sacred here, your grace?" He asks the Priest of Ares who moves to his side to explain that the objects appeared on the alter two nights ago without explanation. Raxius however is not interested in the cleric's excuses and he reaches for the pair of rods that did not belong on the alter. You are as surprised as the Lord Marshal when neither of the rods moves a hair no matter how much **** the Lord Marshal uses, even when Galeon tries to help the Lord Marshal the pair remain immobile.

"By the all the gods how much do these things weigh?" Galeon asks in frustration getting a reply from Ares who looks directly at you while he answers.

"Their weight is equivalent to the entire world except to their rightful owners to them they will feel light as a feather." He tells you, "their capabilities are unknown to anyone except maybe Hephaestus the maker of the weapons." Ares says nodding to you to lift them where others have failed. The same pull that led you to the temple is nearly begging you to claim them but before you even touch the rods, they morph into bracers wrapping around your forearms giving you a rush of power greater than you've ever experienced. Silence fills the hall as over forty men and two young women stare at you in wonder. Finally your father speaks again, but this time he seems less confident. "Perhaps Zeus's guess was correct," Ares shares slowly, "He speculated that these weapons will take the shape needed most by their wielder." You don't feel this is the time or place to experiment and Ares pulls a small vial from somewhere inside his armor.

"Well that's your birthright my son but I've got a gift for your drake that should allow you two to communicate to at least some extent." Ares hands you a the blown glass vile filled with a dark viscous fluid not unlike drake's blood. Before you have a chance to ask for more details your father takes your arm in his.

"I guess this is goodbye, for now, my son." He tells you. "I'll be watching you with even more interest now that you've come into your own." His voice deepens in warning. "Do not think you can hide from this war for much longer, my boy. Remember, your foolish concern for the helpless is a weakness that your enemies can exploit."

Ares vanishes in a flash of light leaving everyone in the empty sanctuary blinking and exchanging questioning looks. At least now the Lord Marshal cannot doubt your heritage, although you have far more questions than answers about what it is that you are supposed to be doing here in the city. Looking down at the vial in your hand it occurs to you that you have no idea what to do with you father's gift either. With a sigh you tuck the small vial into a pouch and turn to rejoin your small party.