Despite his turbulent thoughts, Suren remained Suren. Whether a person can handle serious matters proves their true nature.
In this terrifying situation, enough to make even the king of the gods back down, Suren's mind sparked with clarity, and within moments, he'd devised a solution.
"I would give it to no one," he said. "This golden apple is only one, and to give it to anyone would provoke an unimaginable conflict among the gods."
He addressed the assembly firmly, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. "If anyone should bring a golden apple of discord to this gathering of the gods, seeking to sow dissonance among us, let them be the first to strike me down."
True kingship lies in grandeur and honor, while cunning and deceit serve only as tools. A true king takes responsibility for the consequences of his actions, even in the most challenging moments.
"I will give the golden apple to every god at this gathering or to none at all. As for 'the most beautiful goddess,' every goddess here is beautiful. It would insult my wisdom to claim otherwise."
Once again, the gods witnessed Suren deliver a flawless answer. He didn't evade the question or shift the blame. He stated, right in front of them, that the golden apple of discord was his enemy.
He wouldn't display something that would divide the gods and disrupt their unity. Whoever sought to introduce such discord was an enemy of Suren himself.
Athena blinked. Even she hadn't foreseen this solution. A masterstroke. What had been an inescapable trap—a scheme even she would've fallen prey to—Suren had unraveled with ease.
By shifting the focus from a contest of beauty to the destructive consequences of discord among gods, he showed he'd transcended a mere mortal's perspective.
This was the poise of a true king—the mark of the one hero who might bridge the divide between gods and men.
Eris, the one who had set the discord in motion, felt a pang of regret as soon as the question left her lips. She had handed her only friend the golden apple as a token of their bond. Yet, by asking him to choose another goddess, she risked undermining that very friendship.
Her regret was quickly swallowed by self-doubt and shame. As a goddess of discord, without friends or devoted followers, Eris suddenly wanted to flee—to crawl back into her shadowy realm. Perhaps a hero like him wasn't meant for someone like her. Perhaps her friendship with him was, after all, just a fleeting dream.
It was only natural for her to return to her dark, damp world, away from the radiant brilliance of a hero in the light.
Eris turned to leave, her steps hurried. The gods assumed she was running to escape punishment, though the truth was far sadder. If Suren had taken her apple only to pass it on to another, it would've stung less.
But Suren called after her: "Eris!"
"Y-yes?" Eris turned back reluctantly. Her expression remained the same, though her mind was a tangle of uncertainty.
Suren had planned to show the golden apple as proof of their friendship, but as he touched it, his fingers brushed the inscription upon its surface.
"To my only true friend, Suren."
Suren realized that Eris's behavior, while it had certainly put him in a tight spot, had been born from fear of losing her only friend. Yet her actions were, in essence, a trap laid for him, whether intentional or not.
He knew that displaying the apple would turn the other gods against Eris. If you're willing to betray your closest friend, why would any of us trust you? they'd think.
After a moment's thought, he chose not to show the apple. Instead, he said, "Eris, you gave me a gift, but I haven't yet returned the favor."
Suren suddenly realized he had nothing to give. His money came from Atalanta, his weapons from Athena, his clothes sewn by Artemis…
Did he even own anything?
Finally, with a pang of reluctance, he pulled out a perfect wooden staff he had found on an uninhabited island during the Argo's journey—a 'sacred sword.'
The staff, roughly five feet long, was sturdy and straight, with two natural protrusions near the end forming a makeshift guard. It was Suren's prized possession; even Jason and Heracles had wanted it, but he'd kept it for himself.
He swung it a few times, savoring its balance, then reluctantly handed it over to Eris. "This is my sacred sword, one of my most cherished treasures. I give it to you as a token of our friendship."
"Isn't it… a regular stick?" Eris's blunt question reflected her lack of social grace, which may have explained her lack of friends.
If it had been Athena, she'd have played along, accepting the staff with reverence, even waving it about to show Suren she valued his gift.
"It's not a stick! It's a sacred sword!" Suren replied firmly. "If I say it's a sacred sword, it's a sacred sword!"
"…"
Though she didn't quite understand, Eris took him at his word. Holding the staff with some confusion, she turned and left.
There was no point in making her stay. The gathering was too crowded for her.
As Suren watched her go, he felt a wave of relief. The terrifying conflict that could've consumed the gods had finally been averted.
None of the gods noticed when Suren reached for something in his cloak, but Athena did. She kept her observations to herself, wise enough to know when to speak and when to maintain a man's dignity.
Zeus returned, his laughter booming like thunder. "Suren, thank you for your contribution to the gods. You bring us something rare indeed."
He fixed his gaze on Suren with keen interest. "In this golden age of Greece, brimming with potential, a hero like you might inspire humanity to follow. We, the gods, share your vision of a golden era."
Poseidon, too, spoke up. "Suren, I, Poseidon, recognize your worth. You will govern the gods, and we, in turn, will guide mankind, bringing forth your golden age."
As god of the sea, Poseidon lacked the raw power of Zeus or Hades, but he was one of the three sovereign gods of Olympus.
Legend held that Poseidon's trident could stir waves, unleash storms, and make the earth tremble. When he crossed the sea in his chariot, the waves would calm, dolphins trailing in his wake.
This volatile nature was not merely Poseidon's own; it reflected the ever-changing sea itself.
Most men feared the gods, revered them in awe, not love. Poseidon had long wanted to change this dynamic, which was why he was among the first to support Suren.
And he was not alone. Many gods, though they lacked a concrete plan, had grown dissatisfied with the present state of things.
Suren's proposal offered them a vision of change. While some gods supported him outright, others had resisted—not out of objection to his goals, but because they feared placing such a tremendous burden on a mortal.
These gods tested him with every hardship they could conjure, hoping to dissuade him from a quest they thought impossible.
But Suren had overcome every trial, leaving them no choice but to respect his ambition.
As the gods sat together in harmony, unified in purpose, even the formidable Zeus set aside his kingly demeanor, engaging freely in conversation.
It felt like a friendly gathering over tea, where all gods, not just the Twelve Olympians, were welcome to speak.
Even Ares, god of war and bloodshed, wore a rare smile, his usual fierceness subdued.
United by Suren's dream, the gods joined in a vision of peace—a golden age, the fulfillment of Suren's greatest wish.
---
As if in an epic tale, Zeus and the hero of the golden age locked eyes.
Then, Zeus's voice, calm and paternal, echoed softly, "So, Suren, wise and brave, what do you wish to accomplish for this suffering world?"
"What will you bring to this golden age?"
"I don't know," Suren answered earnestly, "but I'm working toward it. I'll do what I can, what I believe is right."
"I only put forth a beautiful idea. But to flesh it out, to give it life, will take more than just me."
He smiled, recalling past hardships. "Thankfully, I have time. I can afford to be patient."
Greece, in this age of gods, had no crises demanding his intervention. In truth, he preferred it that way.
Helping those he encountered, easing their burdens—such acts held more meaning than any grand ideal of 'saving the world.'
For the first time, Suren seemed uncertain. When it came down to specifics, his previous convictions softened.
In strategy, he was fearless; in action, meticulous.
It was easy to propose a plan, but hard to carry it out.
Such a man—a true visionary, yet grounded in pragmatism—was the real architect of dreams.
Zeus, rather than reprimanding him, reached out and gently patted Suren on the head, like a father finally free to show kindness.
"Indeed, Suren, you are right. In all things, we must not rush. So long as you stay true to your purpose, I, Zeus, king of the gods, bless you with clarity, that you may never feel lost."
---
Athena sighed quietly to herself. Through storms and trials, this moment blossomed like a flower in full bloom, and Athena felt joy for Suren.
This was the hero she had always anticipated, the one she blessed, the one who stirred her goddess heart.
She knew her heart was already moved, but unlike Artemis, she would not simply admit her feelings aloud. To the goddess of wisdom, that would be rash, uncertain, and, indeed, dangerous.
Until she had a 98% certainty of success, she would not make her move, leaving the final 2% as a calculated risk.
Though she didn't know who Suren's true love would be, she was confident of one thing:
Before the Golden Age was fulfilled, Suren wouldn't accept the love of any goddess.
Because his heart was already wholly committed to the world.
And so, Athena would help her hero complete his great wish. Once his heart was freed from the world's burdens, he might finally turn his gaze to himself and give some attention to his personal life.
Only then would Suren live, love, and settle, like any ordinary man, though his life could hardly be ordinary.
For Athena, Suren's ultimate understanding was all that mattered.
But even the wise and stately Athena had her private thoughts.
She suddenly spoke up. "Our Almighty Father, Zeus, to achieve this Golden Age, we gods must advance together, as Suren has, with caution."
"But my wisdom tells me that we need one among us to guide and unite us, someone to direct and coordinate us in times of need, a chief god to oversee the work."
Zeus thought briefly, then nodded. "My wise daughter Athena, you speak truth, as expected of Olympus's goddess of wisdom."
"And this new god's scope of duty and authority?"
"…The duty would be to guide and mediate among the gods," Athena replied with composure. "And the authority would be the same—to unify the gods, especially in matters within our domains where cohesion is crucial."
After all, as the Chief Architect, my authority must be limitless.
"Athena's proposal is excellent, but the new god will need to bear this responsibility and oversee the great undertaking," Zeus observed. "Athena, do you have more to add?"
"Certainly," Athena replied. "I've already drafted some ideas. We can experiment with each."
She then launched into her proposals.
One plan envisioned a grand wall separating mortals from gods, creating a godless Greece where humanity could develop freely, with only basic laws to guide them.
Another concept involved an all-encompassing 'heavenly network' that would monitor gods and mortals alike, with laws embedded deep within, blocking any potential transgressions.
Listening, Suren could only sigh internally. A bit extreme, he thought. Either too free or too rigid—the former would expose all of humanity's evils, while the latter would turn people into mindless automatons.
It's a bit... bipolar, he mused.
Still, he didn't counter Athena outright. After all, these were only drafts, vague concepts not set in stone.
Besides, Athena's willingness to present her ideas to shape the Golden Age was something worth encouraging. Missteps could be corrected, but discouraging her was out of the question.
Athena's efficiency was unmatched. As she spoke, she pulled out a series of documents.
"Resources, manpower, blueprints, proposals, budget plans, every relevant detail…"
Athena said, "This about covers it. Are there any gods who'd be willing to… contribute?"
Yes, 'contribute' was the word she used.
The gods were stunned. Their lively tea-party atmosphere vanished, like a class suddenly hushed by a teacher's arrival.
Every god's gaze dropped. Suddenly, the ground and sky seemed fascinating. No one met her eyes.
This wasn't surprising.
To mortals, this new role might sound like a position of high honor and authority, nearly as powerful as the throne of Olympus itself.
But gods are not mortals. They are hardly power-hungry, and responsibility weighs heavily on them. This proposal, having been agreed upon by the Twelve Olympians, would indeed bind even Zeus, to a degree, to the Chief Architect's guidance.
This means that whoever took the role would, during the project, hold almost limitless authority—even Zeus could be directed within limits. Other gods would, naturally, be expected to follow suit.
The potential benefits were clear: new domains, new authority…
But to the gods, such 'benefits' were overshadowed by the weighty responsibility—something so daunting it truly required a 'contribution.'
They all wanted to witness Suren's envisioned Golden Age, this magnificent miracle of gods and humans united—but that didn't mean any of them were eager to roll up their sleeves and work for it.
I want to see it happen ≠ I want to do it!
And gods, with their impulsive natures and free spirits, might verbally support the plan now, but without someone to keep them in line, this Golden Age might remain a distant dream.
Even if it were completed, who could say how true it would be to the original vision?
Suren could manage many tasks, but not without a god's help to coordinate the divine chaos and bring order.
In short, the gods, upon reflection, all reached the same conclusion: This is a thankless job. Let someone else do it.
Zeus's gaze wandered over the Twelve Olympians.
"Not me!" Apollo said, waving a hand. "If anyone needs help, just call me. I'll pitch in… Oh! My oracle in Sparta needs me!" he added hastily, leaving alongside a bemused Artemis.
Apollo's exit set off a wave of excuses, as each god found reasons to slip away.
"Uh... My daughter wants winter wheat. I'll be in the Underworld."
"Right! I need to ask the Cyclops brothers to forge some tools. Call if you need materials!"
"My mermaid wife's expecting—I'll be going now!"
"…"
"Everyone, back to your seats." Zeus's tone was calm, but a single thunderclap brought the gods back to the table.
Rapping his fingers against his throne's armrest, Zeus asked, "Now, does anyone here volunteer for this responsibility, to be the gods' arbiter?"
"…We follow your orders, Almighty Father Zeus!" the gods chorused in unison, as if urging him to take the role himself.
If it's between us all, Zeus, it's gotta be you!
But Zeus replied coolly, "Denied. I am Zeus, King of the Gods. I cannot be an arbiter."
His expression turned as cold and unfeeling as a machine, as if he'd spent a millennium striking fish in the Aegean.
In truth, Zeus was only acting—attitude was the mask of the heart. His aloof demeanor made it clear this wasn't up for negotiation.
Zeus certainly wasn't going to put himself in a position where he'd become the fun rather than the one watching it.
It was Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty, who spoke next. "Why not let Athena serve as arbiter?"
"Since it was your proposal, Athena, you should take the lead!"
The gods' eyes brightened. Yes, here was a perfect candidate!
"Not a chance!" Athena protested, pounding the table in frustration. "Aphrodite, why would you do this to me?"
Arms folded, Aphrodite huffed, "Why, am I wrong? Wise Athena, if anyone should bear this burden, it's you, since it's your plan."
"Chief Arbiter, stop refusing!" she continued, pressing her advantage. "Suren is watching. Would you refuse in front of him?"
"Besides, Athena, wouldn't you hate for him to think you don't truly support him?"
Hold on, why am I being dragged into this? Suren thought, bewildered.
The gods began egging each other on, fanning the flames, urging Zeus to appoint Athena as Chief Arbiter. Finally, the pressure overwhelmed her, and with a sigh, she relented. "Very well, I will take on the role—but I have conditions!"
"…"
Hestia, quiet until now, sighed and spoke gently. "Athena, if this is how you'll help Suren, then of course, I support you. However…"
Hestia hesitated. Under Athena's gaze, she eventually said, "Actually, never mind. You are the wisest among us, so I trust your judgment."
"…Thank you, 'Aunt' Hestia."
In that moment, Athena understood. Hestia, usually a shy recluse, was the most astute and perceptive among the gods. She seldom involved herself but observed everything closely.
Her silence had been a deliberate cue. She was signaling her awareness of Athena's schemes but chose to stay silent as long as Athena supported Suren.
Zeus chuckled, a hint of intrigue glinting in his eyes, though only Hera seemed to understand the depth behind it. "My beloved Athena, speak your terms. We shall meet them as best we can."
"Then," Athena said crisply, "I demand the authority to direct any god. If I need a god's aid, they are bound to comply unconditionally—even Zeus may not refuse."
"Further, if my actions and orders are beyond your understanding, yet do not endanger your safety, you shall not oppose them. I will not issue commands that lead to certain death."
"If you don't understand, it's only a reflection of our intellectual differences, and I dislike imbeciles, so I won't tolerate them questioning me!"
Though her requests seemed excessive, the gods assumed it was a bluff—Athena's way of making them balk at her nomination as the gods' "workhorse." And so, they all voiced their agreement, hailing her as the natural choice!
"A reasonable demand," Zeus decreed solemnly. "For the sake of a prosperous Golden Age, Athena, any god you summon to aid your plans may not refuse."
"And, from this day forward, you shall hold the divine authority of [Guardian of Craftsmen]. You are the gods' new artisan."
Since even the two gods who saw through Athena's plan—Zeus and Hestia—chose to support her, the other gods quickly fell in line, granting Athena the title of Chief Architect with overwhelming approval.
Watching, Artemis wrinkled her nose, feeling a faint unease, though she couldn't say why. Still, she'd never wanted the role.
Besides, as a lone huntress who barely tolerated men—other than Suren—she certainly wasn't suited to managing the gods.
"Hmm… Wait," Artemis mused, "if Athena's the Chief Arbiter, maybe she could help me get closer to Suren?"
"We're sisters, after all. Athena wouldn't refuse… right?"
"Indeed, Zeus!" The newly minted artisan Athena straightened and announced with feigned seriousness, "All for the Golden Age's success!"
"...Eh?" Zeus eyed her warily. Given her enthusiasm, he added, "Of course, this is subject to the limits of your purpose—to achieve a Golden Age between gods and mortals."
"Of course, Zeus," Athena answered with utmost sincerity, "all in service to the gods!"
Observing Athena's righteousness, Artemis couldn't suppress a nervous twitch. For all her ruminating, she still couldn't quite pin down her unease.
After all…
This is my best friend. Surely Athena would help me… right?
No gathering lasts forever, and even the most splendid of parties must end.
After departing Mount Olympus, Suren began his journey across Greece.
Athens, Sparta, Thebes…
Every city-state and village.
He'd planned a year-long journey, but in Sparta, his plans abruptly changed, and he returned to Athens.
"So… you're thinking of unifying Greece?" Athena asked. They sat across from each other in her temple's private chamber—a place none but Suren had ever entered.
"Uniting all the city-states and transforming their laws?" she asked, not questioning his motives, only adding, "Would you like my help?"
"The Greek Age isn't just about guiding gods," Suren replied. "Humanity also needs an ideal king."
"Athena, you manage the gods. I'll take care of humanity."
"When the time comes, my dream will be complete."
His mind flashed to the vast number of slaves, outnumbering citizens by fifty to one. Suren could hardly contain his revulsion at the depravity.
Sparta, indeed, was a city of savages.
---
Thanks for reading! Let me know if you spot any mistakes or inconsistencies!
Posture and water check! Remember this is a fan translation!
If you wish to support me or read ahead here's a link! [patreon.com/WiseTL]