The morning sunlight filtered through the cracks in the wooden shutters of Archillaus' inn, casting faint golden streaks across Diomedes' modest room. He blinked awake, stretching as the soreness from yesterday's battle tugged at his muscles. Despite the pain, a small smirk formed on his lips—it felt good to be alive.
He got up, threw on a simple tunic, and headed outside, the inn still quiet in the early hours. The cool morning air greeted him as he stepped out. He found a secluded spot near a wall and relieved himself, taking a moment to breathe in the peace of the city now free from chaos.
Diomedes had always believed in routines, especially in this world of uncertainty. Returning to his room briefly, he grabbed his waterskin and drank deeply, two full liters in long, deliberate gulps.
"First quest complete," he muttered under his breath, wiping his mouth.
He moved to a clear area behind the inn and began his exercises—100 push-ups followed by 100 sit-ups. His arms and abdomen burned, but he relished the challenge. The rhythmic movement helped clear his mind, pushing aside lingering thoughts of Hades and the Kraken.
After finishing, he stood, brushing the dirt from his hands. "Time for the jog," he said to himself.
The streets of Argos bustled with early risers preparing for a new day. Merchants set up their stalls, hawking fresh produce and trinkets, while blacksmiths hammered metal with ringing precision. Diomedes jogged at a steady pace, weaving through the throng.
He passed a group of children playing in an alley, their laughter a stark contrast to the dread that had gripped the city days before. Further ahead, an old man sat by a fountain, muttering prayers of thanks to the gods.
The city still bore scars from Hades' invasion. Burnt buildings stood as solemn reminders, but there was a palpable determination among the people—a resilience he admired.
As he ran, Diomedes reflected on his journey so far. This world was both exhilarating and terrifying. Despite his strength—enhanced by his interface—it felt fragile in the face of divine forces.
"If the gods can unleash horrors like Hades and the Kraken," he thought, "then even someone like me needs to tread carefully."
His jog brought him to the outskirts of Argos, where the morning air was fresher. He felt the burn in his legs as he completed the last stretch of his 10 kilometers. The sense of accomplishment was rewarding, and his breathing steadied as he made his way back to the inn.
Archillaus' inn was livelier now, with patrons filling the common room. Diomedes found a corner table and ordered a bowl of potato stew, his stomach growling in anticipation.
As the steaming bowl arrived, he opened his interface. The glowing panels hovered before him, listing his attributes. He stared at his agility, now at 9.1. Over the last five days, he'd amassed 0.5 attribute points, holding off on allocating them while on the Kraken quest.
"Time to round it up," he said softly, tapping the panel. His agility jumped to 9.6, and he felt a subtle lightness in his limbs, as if his body had become more responsive.
Taking a spoonful of the stew, he sighed contentedly. The rich flavor of potatoes and spices was a comfort he hadn't realized he needed.
The inn door swung open, and a familiar presence filled the room. Commander Draco entered, his armor polished, with his three remaining soldiers behind him. They scanned the room until their eyes fell on Diomedes.
"Diomedes," Draco called, his voice carrying authority but also respect.
Diomedes rose, nodding to the commander. "Draco. It's good to see you again."
Draco approached the table, extending a hand. "The same. You fought well, and Argos owes you much."
They shook hands firmly, warriors who had shared the fires of battle.
Draco gestured for his men to sit nearby and turned back to Diomedes. "The king summons you to the palace for tonight's feast. It's a celebration of our victory, and he intends to honor all who fought for Argos."
Diomedes raised an eyebrow. "I'm not much for feasts."
Draco chuckled. "Neither am I, but the king insists. You've earned this, Diomedes."
With a sigh, Diomedes nodded. "Very well. I'll be there."
As Draco and his men settled at another table, Diomedes leaned back, finishing his stew. The day was just beginning, and it seemed fate had more plans for him.
________________________________________
The stars shone brightly over Argos as Diomedes made his way to the palace. He wore his finest attire, a tunic of deep crimson trimmed with silver threaded embroidery, chosen with care by Archillaus. Despite Diomedes' initial reluctance to dress up, Archillaus had insisted.
"You'll be among kings and nobles tonight," the innkeeper had said. "At least try to look the part."
The streets of Argos were quieter now, the aftermath of celebration still lingering. As he approached the inner city, the grandeur of the king's palace loomed ahead. The guards at the gate stopped him briefly, their expressions stern, but upon confirming his identity, they allowed him to pass.
Inside, a young maid led him through ornately decorated halls toward the king's banquet. The air was heavy with the aroma of roasted meats and fragrant wine. Entering the great hall, Diomedes took in the sight before him.
The hall was alive with revelry. Nobles and aristocrats lounged on plush cushions, sipping wine and laughing heartily. Musicians played lively tunes, while dancers moved gracefully to the rhythm. Men cheered, their arms around women draped in fine silks. Diomedes stood unnoticed, observing the scene.
At the far end of the hall, on an elevated dais, sat King Cereus and Princess Andromeda. She was resplendent, her gown shimmering in the light of a thousand torches. Her father, the king, wore a solemn expression despite the joyous atmosphere.
An aristocrat, Leonidas, a nobleman of great influence, stood and raised his goblet high.
"To King Cereus!" he proclaimed, his voice echoing through the hall. "For leading Argos through victory, and to all who fought bravely against Hades!"
The hall erupted in cheers, goblets clinking together in celebration.
King Cereus rose, his presence commanding immediate silence. He cleared his throat, his tone measured and deliberate.
"Arrogance can lead to destruction," he began, his voice carrying weight. "Yesterday, Argos stood on the brink of annihilation. Yet we are here today because of heroes—brave souls who risked everything to protect this city."
He gestured toward the gathered crowd. "Let us honor them."
The king called out names: "Perseus, Diomedes, Io, Commander Draco, and his loyal men—Step forward."
The hall quieted as the five men and Io approached the dais. Diomedes noticed the crowd's curious glances, whispers spreading like wildfire.
The king first turned to Draco's men, warriors whose loyalty had not wavered. He announced their promotions, naming them captains of battalions. Their names—Alcimus, Theron, and Lycus—rang proudly through the hall.
Draco, standing tall, nodded in approval.
Next, the king addressed Perseus, his voice swelling with pride.
"Perseus, the slayer of the Kraken, the bane of monsters, and the vanquisher of Hades—your deeds have surpassed the legends of old. For saving Argos, I can think of no greater reward than to offer you the city itself."
A collective gasp filled the room. King Cereus turned to his daughter, Andromeda, and then back to Perseus.
"Perseus, I offer you Argos through marriage to my daughter. Let the bloodline of Zeus fortify this city for generations to come."
Diomedes suppressed a chuckle, silently marveling at the king's cunning. Of course, he thought. What better way to secure power than to bind Argos to divine heritage? With Perseus as a son-in-law, the king could claim a connection to Zeus himself.
Unaware of the king's motives, Perseus looked at Io. His heart belonged to her, and his answer was firm.
"Your Majesty, I am honored, but I must decline. I seek no reward, no kingdom. All I desire is a peaceful life with Io."
A murmur spread through the crowd, disbelief etched on every face. The king's smile faltered for a moment before he regained his composure, though his disappointment was clear to Diomedes.
When it was Diomedes' turn, the king's attitude was noticeably cooler.
"Diomedes," he said, his tone lukewarm, "your efforts in defending Argos have not gone unnoticed. Your strength is admirable."
Before the king could dismiss him with a vague commendation, Draco leaned in and whispered something in the king's ear. The king's eyes widened slightly as he looked at Diomedes, a hint of surprise breaking through his guarded expression.
After a brief pause, he announced, "Diomedes, in recognition of your courage and skill, I appoint you as the head of my royal guard."
The crowd clapped politely, though Diomedes could sense the formality in the gesture. Inside, he sighed.
Head of the royal guard? he thought. I was hoping for gold, not more responsibility.
Still, he bowed respectfully to the king, masking his disappointment.
The feast continued, songs and laughter filling the hall once more. Diomedes returned to his seat, picking at the food in front of him. Despite the celebratory atmosphere, his thoughts were elsewhere.
He glanced at Perseus, who sat beside Io, seemingly oblivious to the political machinations around him. Diomedes shook his head slightly.