Within One's Nature
The chatter on the streets of Amphipolis died quickly, or rather it continued at it’s normal volume but Kassandra could not hear it. Her eyes focused on Aspasia’s, on the notion that she was here, at the very end of the country― it took every moment from the years of training Nikolaus had given her to restrain herself from attacking. Restrain and wait for them to make the move, then charge ruthlessly while they are reeling from their own blow.
But Aspasia did not attack her. The soldier within Kassandra hesitated. Why were they not fighting?
The expression on the Cultist’s face became one of relief. Relief? Why? Why not fear or anger or that strange expression Kassandra had first spotted her with at the symposium all those years ago― the narrowed eyes and smirk of a lioness stalking her prey.
It took her a moment to realize that Aspasia was suddenly a mere foot away from her, and speaking in a quiet voice;
“We shouldn’t be out in the open. They are sure to be listening in from every corner and alleyway.”
“They?”
Aspasia’s eyes widened and she tilted her head in the direction of a pair of Spartan soldiers, lazily keeping an eye on them. Then, the Miletian turned and began walking towards the main gates of Amphipolis. Her pace was not rushed but there was something about her body language that pleadingly beckoned Kassandra to join her.
Malaka. What do I have to fucking lose?
Kassandra meandered a little ways behind, inspecting Phobos at the stables as Ikaros kept an eye on Aspasia. From his keen vision, as far as she could tell, Aspasia was not armed. Strange. Most people of wealth would at least carry a dagger on them. It was also telling that Aspasia was dressed to deceive those around her to her true identity, almost sporting a similar look to Darius.
“May I buy an apple off of you for my horse? I won’t see him again for a while and they calm him down,” she asked, with a smile.
The nearby stablehand, a young girl about six or seven, gladly took the drachmae coin from Kassandra’s fingers and disappeared inside a tack room. It took about thirty seconds, an “oof!”, and the sound of a barrel tipping over… but the little kid reappeared with two slightly bruised apples. Well… one was an apple, and the other was a pomegranate. Kassandra gave her a bemused smile and fed Phobos the more appropriate fruit.
She cautiously tossed the pomegranate in her hand as she made her way to the forest edge where Aspasia paced back and forth, nerves awry. Like a beast trapped in a cage. From here, they could see both the harbor, Thasos in the distance, and the military fort just down the road. Kassandra plopped herself in the grass, and began cutting fruit slices with her spear as she stared at the view.
“Are you trying to intimidate me?” Aspasia asked.
Her tone wasn’t condescending, but tired. Sad. It prompted the exact same emotions in Kassandra, who shifted her gaze back down to the pomegranate to prevent herself from cutting her fingers.
“I don’t trust you.”
“I know.”
“Who is this ‘they’ you speak of?”
Kassandra offered Aspasia a slice, and the other woman gingerly took the piece of fruit, keeping an uncomfortable eye contact.
“It’s not poisoned,” the misthios muttered, nibbling on the small seeds of her own slice.
“I can only assume you’re here to fight the Order of the Ancients?”
Kassandra shrugged. Why would she tell Aspasia her plan? Was the Ghost of Kosmos here to ask her to stop? The two organizations seemed distantly linked but not affiliated. Same methods. Similar ideology. The exact same goal of either eradicating or using Kassandra, if Darius was to be believed. Was Aspasia here to warn her?
“They are much more powerful than we are. Were. Much more powerful than we were . They… we thought we controlled Greece but you cannot walk five feet through the Persian empire without catching their scent. I grew up in it, in Miletus. I heard the whispers, the rumors. I feared it as much as anyone else.”
“Until you didn’t? Until you joined them?”
Aspasia shook her head, her lips pursed and her brow furrowed. Kassandra looked down and realized she was just picking seeds from her slice of pomegranate and letting them fall into the grass. Just so she’d have something to do with her hands. A nervous tic.
“No, I never would have. I fear them still. If they’re here, and it’s not another invasion of the Empire, it means that the Ancients are directly involved. That’s why I came here. To warn you, Kassandra.”
“Warn me? You haven’t told me anything I don’t already know. By Zues, I’ve already sent one to the underworld, I’m more than capable of sending the rest.”
“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” Aspasia said, a slight hiss to her words. “If you invoke their wrath, they will hunt you down far longer than we ever could. I cant… I can’t throw them off your scent this time.”
“This time? As though you ever truly did such a thing for me before? I’ve seen the letters, Aspasia. Don’t… don’t try this again.”
The consort anxiously glanced around and took a deep breath. Kassandra found herself nibbling on another pomegranate slice. The last thing she wanted to do was get into another spat, especially if there was some truth to Aspasia’s words… and the Persians were listening in. She figured no, they were too far beyond the gates, and even if the Huntsman had more agents in the woods, not many would pick up on the quiet debate between the two enemies.
“The Cult was brutal, Kassandra, but not many speak out against the Order of Ancients and are heard from again.”
“I am not those people. I am cursed something awful, and while they may have an entire Empire of soldiers, they will not end my life today. Nor tomorrow. It will be a long time before I die, I promise you.”
“Death isn’t the worst thing to happen to a person,” Aspasia sighed.
“You would know. I’ve seen y― your Cult take a human and turn him into a punishment only Hades would bravely contain in Tartarus.”
The older woman finally stopped dead in her tracks and glared at Kassandra for half a second before throwing her uneaten chunk of fruit square at the misthios’s forehead. The younger woman couldn’t even catch it, as unprepared as she was. Blinking in surprise, Kassandra quickly realized there was suddenly an accusing finger being pointed in her face.
“I would know, Kassandra. Your insults aren’t going to deter me any further! Let me help you. I know the politics of these sorts of people, even if indirectly. I can… I can help keep you safe.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. You, what, you came all this way to ‘keep me safe’? You, who destroyed my family and ruined my life?”
“My ship was passing through Amphipolis on the way to Lesbos, and then Miletus. I… there were likely passengers aboard who were members of the Order. Let me go back to the ship and speak with the captain. I can find out more, perhaps even help you hunt them before they get to you.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” Aspasia said. “I... I can’t give you an answer as to why I’m here. I…”
A farmer and his wife trotted past on horseback, leaving a cloud of dust in the road. An eagle gently caught the warmest winds to carry his wings further as he circled over the nearby grain fields for scurrying mice to catch. Ants began investigating a fallen pomegranate slice in the grass, near the tense leg of a human, keeping herself on the defense. At the beach in the distance, two little boys began picking up pieces of driftwood to play pretend; the quick clashing of sticks deftly reenacting the Battle of Amphipolis.
The Spartan warrior stood, practically towering over Aspasia. She finally put her spear back in its sheath but kept a hand on her hip, a mere inch from her father’s sword.
“Look, I don’t want you here. You’re only going to cause more trouble, and you know it,” Kassandra sighed. “Best case scenario for you, they don’t realize the Cult is done for. And that’s very unlikely. I don’t think they’re going to believe a word you sa―”
“Can I have the rest of your pomegranate?”
Aspasia’s eyes were a light brown, but they almost had a flash of steel to them. As though, even unarmed, she could prove to be just as much of a warrior. In her own way.
“Wh-what? I… uh… sure. Here.”
Aspasia’s expression had changed completely, as though she’d snapped her fingers and cast a spell. She gently plucked the remainder of the fruit out of Kassandra’s hands. Then walked away. Well, not away away, but rather towards a duo of soldiers guarding the bridge leading towards Amphipolis. Kassandra inched closer but chose to sit on the grassy hillside of the forest and watch out of the corner of her eye, pretending to mind her own business.
Flirtatious touches and laughter. The guards, not letting their guard down as they were on duty, but smiling and engaging in conversation with her. An Athenian charming Spartans. Aspasia chatted with them for a few minutes, offering her pomegranate for them to split, taking a seed from the guard’s fingers and popping it into her own mouth with a flirty grin. One of the guards was backed up against a wooden post with his arms crossed but not closed off or antagonistic; the other casually leaning on his spear as he listened to Aspasia talk with rapt attention.
From a distance, she could read Aspasia’s lips saying “thank you” and watched as one of the soldiers took her enemy’s hand and gently kissed it goodbye. It was sweet to watch, almost a scene from a painted amphora.
Aspasia turned and walked down the dusty road, a quick glimpse up into the forest but not directly at Kassandra, as though she were beginning the long trek towards Potidaia.
She brushed a stray red seed off of her breastplate and stood, heading down the dusty road towards the lone hooded figure in the distance. From here, it could have been anyone, and Kassandra had a feeling that Aspasia wanted to be found this time. Gods knew that woman could have hidden in the shadows of Amphipolis and merely watched, as Kassandra was certain the Order were doing. A bit of time passed before Kassandra caught up (intentionally so). The two women said nothing as they walked side by side.
Eventually, the silence irked the misthios to the point of interruption;
“What were you doing with those guards?”
Aspasia glanced at the Rhodope Mountains in the distance as they found a fallen log to sit at. She pulled out a small scroll, clearly official orders of some kind.
“The things you can take when eyes are glazed.”
“You pickpocketed this?” Kassandra asked in disbelief.
“Who do you think taught Phoibe?”
“I did! In Sami! We broke one of Duris’ pots together! It was an educational experience!”
Aspasia rolled her eyes. Playfully. It was so foreign and ludicrous to Kassandra that she was sitting here with the Ghost of Kosmos and… joking around?! It was an insult to her―
“At my core, with all else stripped away, I am a hetaera, Kassandra. We go through immense training and acquire skills that would make Odysseus himself brim with jealousy. A kiss, a playful push. Having one guard distract the other without even realizing it himself. I only wished to know where one might find a theatre in this town, and which one of them would like to attend the newest Aristophanic comedy with me.”
She gave a “hmph” in return, opening the small piece of parchment and inspecting it, her eyes occasionally darting back to Aspasia’s.
“A gathering of Ares fanatics? Just outside of Amphipolis? Seems… well… why would the Spartans just allow this? According to this note, their camp practically overlooks the town. A responsible group of soldiers would eliminate the threat.”
“Yet one among them is allowed safe passage into town whenever he pleases. A bloodthirsty brute with a silver pendant around his neck. That sounds a little… interesting.”
Kassandra brought out the note she’d pulled off of Phratagoune, squinting through the harsh sun and the dried bloodstains. Sent from someone named Konon... a warrior who found distaste in the Huntsman’s use of wild beasts and preferred instead to put his faith in the gods themselves. Ares in particular.
“Great. The Order has dipped their fingers into the pot of honey that belongs to the Followers of Ares. I would really appreciate it if everyone could go one year without spying on each other. Perhaps? If it’s not so much to ask?”
“That’s your next lead, then? This Konon?”
“Hmm. I suppose so, though I’ll need to infiltrate the fort as well. I don’t want to stay in Amphipolis if its teeming with spies and murderers, and it’s a long way to Potidaia”
“Could we camp in the forest?”
“ We ?” Kassandra asked, giving Aspasia a raised eyebrow. “There is no ‘we’. You need to go back to Athens, or to Miletus… or-or wherever! I told you, I don’t want you here!”
Aspasia raised her hands in defense, “It’s in nobody’s best interest if these people infiltrate the Greek world. I’ve just proven that I can help you figure out what’s going on!”
“I already know what’s going on! The Persians are hunting Natakas and his father and― malaka! Malaka! Malaka! ” Kassandra cursed, mentally berating herself for the slip.
“Who is Natakas? Who is his father?”
“Oh no you don’t!”
Quick as Zeus’ lightning, Aspasia held up her palm. The cut was still fresh, not even stitched, and Kassandra held her gaze upon it for a long moment.
“Do you think your warning is not fresh in my mind? I might know what it is you speak of. If nothing else, I could just find it out myself, Kassandra.”
“I would kill you if you did.”
“Natakas. I have heard that name in passing but I struggle to remember it. Whispered by one of the Eyes at some point. I’ve had thousands of names whispered to me of course, but few stand out. That one does.”
The Spear of Leonidas was quickly unsheathed and pointed at a pensive, calm throat. Its owner was lost in thought, trying to recall a simple name. It was a good thing the road was completely empty; a patrol would certainly stop and attempt to intervene in what clearly looked like a robbery or attempted murder. Aspasia didn’t seem to mind the blade.
“Something about Persia, I’m sure of it. It’s been years. A forgotten plan. A forgotten assassination attempt, I’m sure.”
Kassandra relented, but kept her spear raised, merely saying, “Darius.”
“Fuck,” Aspasia whispered, lost in thought as she traced the cut on her palm. “That would do it. That would prompt a second Persian invasion of a secret organization into Greek lands.”
“Do you know anything about him?”
“Only that he did it. Killing Xerxes, I mean. That sort of thing gets around, even if our organizations don’t like speaking with each other. He committed the act that others like him have done for thousands of years and what others like him will do for thousands more. Stubborn malakas, but dedicated, I’ll give them that. When I met you, I knew you were not affiliated with his kind. You’re a very independent sort, uncaring of ideology.”
“You’re so nice to the person who has a spear at your throat.”
“I only mean that… in your slaughtering of the Cult, you didn’t do it because it was the ‘right thing to do’ or because you believe in the machinations of ‘freedom and anarchy’ like Darius and his ilk do. You did it to fuck with us. Revenge.”
“Oh, so you admit that your machinations were the ‘wrong thing to do’?”
“We don’t have the time for debate or justifications, Sokrates. What’s done is done. You’re working alongside Darius and... I assume Natakas is his son?”
Kassandra remained silent.
“Hunting down one of them nearly thirty years later. We’re talking about spending an insane amount of resources to track a single person across countries, into territory that explicitly hates Persians. That requires diplomacy to assure this is not a conquest but rather a single manhunt; providing something in return for immunity in our lands. Perhaps assisting Sparta in the war? That requires approval from the highest seat of authority in the Empire, Hystaspes― who of course is not outside their sphere of influence by any means. But it does indicate that this hunt is incredibly serious and active, decades later. Awfully passionate for a political organization, don’t you think?”
The sadness in Aspasia’s eyes as she finally addressed the spear at her throat, gently closing her fist around it. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to get Kassandra’s attention. They stood in silence for a moment, with the warrior unsure of the gesture.
“An act of hunting down someone for years. Decades? It’s something you know well, Kassandra. I confronted my fate in the flesh after it hunted me down with a ruthlessness bestowed by Nemesis herself, and now Darius must as well.”
“What are you saying?”
“All this theatre… this is the action of a very personal revenge. A rage. Someone figured out where Darius was and is sending the entire Order after him. And that someone would only go to this effort if Darius meant something to them. That they would risk invading Cult territory for? Makes you think, doesn’t it?”
“You’re saying there’s more than meets the eye.”
Aspasia let go of the spear, allowing Kassandra to lose herself in thought once more. She’d made a good point, it was an awfully heavy assault into Makedonia for just one man. Malaka, she fucking hated secrecy and deception! Reminded her of those stupid errands Alkibiades sent her on.
“The question is, Kassandra, why are you here?”
Fuck, that was a good question. When she’d first arrived, a Persian captain indicated that he was aware of her bloodline. Threatening to end her before he had been assassinated by Darius. Honestly, if that was anything to go by, she’d be smart enough to leave. Take the Adrestia and sink any ship that tried to stop her. And… then what? Barnabas always laughed that there was always more adventure to be had, sights to see and battles to fight. But… to what end? She’d lost most of the people she cared about. The house in Sparta belonged both to herself and Nikolaus, but she’d told him to keep it after Myrinne died. No one left in Kephallonia. She had friends in Athens, but would never be able to apply for citizenship. Not that she wanted it! Her true father was now buried in Samos, in the forests above his hometown. The only true task she harbored was… waiting for a woman who needed the staff more than her?
“I’m here because someone asked for my help. Darius told me that he killed a tyrant, and that the Persians are now hunting him down and his son. I know his son to be an innocent man, who has only killed in self-defense. A good person who helped injured villagers out of the goodness of his heart.”
Aspasia said nothing, her eyes finally going soft in understanding.
“There are centuries… millennia of politics behind all this, if you are to be believed, but in this moment all I can think is that if an entire faction would go out of their way to kill a man who tried to do the right thing, and his son who has done nothing… those people are dangerous and must be stopped. I’m here because I want to do the right thing. For once. I don’t want drachmae. I don’t want glory. I just… I want to help someone for the sake of helping them. Because they need it.”
“That’s a pretty good answer,” Aspasia smiled.
“You think?”
“My head swirls with poison, beseeching me to demean you. To tell you that for every soul that lives in peace, others had to die. That cruelty begets power. Power begets peace. That day, beneath Delphi, I had it all rehearsed. I was ready.”
“What were you going to say?”
“That we were not originally fighting for destruction but rather redirection. To use the pyramid to reshape humanity in our favor. That the Cult does not fight for the singular comforts of love and individuality and self expression but rather for the harmony of all.”
“And yet...” Kassandra sighed. “Every single Cultist had their own agenda, their own selfish ambitions.”
“The truth of the Cult. It’s the truth of the Ancients, and our relationship between each other! It’s surprisingly simple. We are arrogant and selfish and we want to control every waking moment, yet our pledge seems benign. Use technology of old to control all. To further humanity. To further progress. That’s all there is to it! The methods are what make us despicable people.
“Organizations like us are no different from the First Civilization in that aspect. Do you think they were truly at peace, with millions enslaved? That they did not bicker and scheme among each other as the Cult did? So distracted by an obsession for control that they did not notice humans rise up to defeat them in the name of freedom. They descended into hybrids. Who created bloodlines that carried the tradition of challenging control. And that is why you’re here. It’s in your nature.”
“A long winded way of saying my nature is destruction.”
“Our nature. And the ones who come after us. And the ones that come after them.”
“Why make any effort at all?”
Aspasia laughed. A loud, playful laugh that, surprisingly, caused Kassandra to laugh as well. Two enemies sitting on the side of a dusty road, watching farmers and travelers meander past… laughing together.
“You might as well ask why we breathe the air when Thanatos awaits?”
“It’s in our nature.”
The Ghost of Kosmos grinned, “Indeed.
Kassandra rolled her eyes and stood, brushing the dirt and pieces of bark from the fallen log off her armor. She turned and offered a hand to Aspasia, who took a deep breath before accepting it. Their hands lingered together for but a moment... afore they distanced themselves as they began to walk back the way they came.
"Come on, there are Ancients to kill and I can’t pay for a funeral for the great Aspasia if they catch us here. I’ll have Barnabas bring the Adrestia over to Amphipolis and we can stay aboard while we figure this out.”