The amphitheater grew silent as Tritius stepped forward to announce the second match, his voice cutting through the anticipation like a blade.
"For the second match of the Agōn Gamikos, representing the illustrious Prince Aegion of Athens, we have Icaros the Cunning, a champion famed for his ingenuity, master of misdirection, and wielder of the spear!"
Icaros entered the arena, a lean but wiry figure with a sharp gaze that seemed to pierce through his opponent. His spear glinted in the sunlight, and his confident smirk promised a fight unlike any other.
"And representing the formidable Prince Menon of Thebes, we have Theron the Fierce, a warrior who once slew thirty bandits alone and emerged unscathed!"
Theron, a towering figure of muscle and menace, strode into the arena, his presence commanding respect. His heavy sword was a weapon of raw power, its edge glinting menacingly.
As the two champions prepared to fight, their princes—Aegion of Athens and Menon of Thebes—could not resist trading words.
"Your Theban brute relies too much on muscle," Aegion sneered, his tone laced with mockery. "Victory requires wit, something your land seems to lack."
Menon's lips curled into a snarl. "And your Athenian relies on tricks, no doubt because his strength is as brittle as your city's walls. Thebes stands strong while Athens hides behind clever words!"
The tension between the two princes was palpable, their lifelong rivalry reflected in the combat about to unfold. King Cereus watched from his throne, his expression neutral but his eyes betraying curiosity.
At the signal, Icaros and Theron closed the distance between them, their movements a study in contrasts. Theron charged with his sword raised high, his strikes heavy and deliberate. Icaros danced around him, his spear darting like a serpent, probing for openings.
Diomedes watched intently from the sidelines, his heightened spirit stat of 9.8 allowing him to analyze their moves in intricate detail. Every strike, feint, and parry unfolded in his mind like a pattern, their techniques breaking down into strategies and flaws.
The two warriors were evenly matched, their respective strengths playing to their city-states' reputations. Theron's sheer power and endurance were countered by Icaros' speed and cunning. The crowd watched in awe, the rivalry between Athens and Thebes fueling their excitement.
Then came the turning point. Theron, after a series of punishing blows, managed to disarm Icaros of his spear. The Theban champion roared in triumph, believing the fight won. He advanced on Icaros, his sword ready to deliver the final blow.
But Icaros, ever cunning, feigned surrender. As Theron lowered his guard, the Athenian lunged forward with surprising speed, grabbing a discarded sword from the ground. In a fluid motion, he disarmed Theron and pointed the blade at his throat.
The amphitheater erupted in cheers as Theron reluctantly raised his hand in surrender.
Tritius raised his hand. "The winner: Icaros the Cunning, champion of Athens!"
The crowd's reactions were divided; some cheered wildly, while others, particularly Thebans, shouted in frustration. Several gamblers, who had bet on Theron, threw their belongings to the ground in anger.
Prince Aegion stood from his seat, his face alight with smug satisfaction. He turned to Princess Andromeda, his voice confident and boastful.
"Behold, Princess, the ingenuity of Athens. It is not brute force but cleverness that prevails in battle, just as it will in life. Perhaps you now see where true strength lies."
His gaze shifted to Diomedes, lingering with a challenging intensity. The unspoken message was clear: Let's see if you fare better.
Diomedes remained silent, his expression calm and unreadable. He glanced at Andromeda, who met his gaze briefly, her eyes filled with quiet determination. The Agōn Gamikos was far from over.
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Diomedes reminisce the match in his mind with acute alacrity, noting every movement, every strength, and every flaw in the fighters' techniques.The Theban champion lost due to a lapse in vigilance, Diomedes mentally marked the moment. A single second of carelessness could turn the tide of any battle.
He vowed to remain cautious, especially toward the end of his fights. Complacency, he realized, was the undoing of even the strongest warriors.
His gaze wandered briefly to Prince Rhesus, seated among his Thracian entourage. The prince's face was a mask of arrogance, but his eyes betrayed something deeper—calculating malice. Diomedes noticed how Rhesus' gaze frequently shifted between him and Princess Andromeda.
There was something unsettling about the way Rhesus looked at the princess. It wasn't admiration or even love—it was possession. Diomedes' jaw tightened. He knew men like Rhesus, who saw people as tools or trophies to be claimed.
Diomedes filed Rhesus' gaze away in his thoughts, adding it to the list of dangers lurking in this contest. The Thracian prince would need watching. The games were as much about political maneuvering as they were about strength and skill.
"Rhesus may fight with his champion in the arena," Diomedes thought, "but his true battle is waged through schemes and ambition."
A soldier walked towards Diomedes, he whispered in his ear
" A man,Archillaus seek an audience with you captain, he told me tell, you will find him in the amphitheater preparation room" the soldier said.
Diomedes, curious but cautious, followed the soldier's lead to one of the preparation rooms below the amphitheater. The faint hum of the crowd above was muted, replaced by the quiet echo of his boots on the stone floor.
Inside the room, Archillaus, the shrewd innkeeper and underground broker of Argos, waited for him. Archillaus was a wiry man with sharp features, his eyes constantly darting as if cataloging every detail. He greeted Diomedes with a grin, but his tone was serious.
"Diomedes," Archillaus began, leaning in, "yesterday, some men came to my inn asking questions about you. They were strangers—didn't look local. They were careful not to say too much, but one of my regular patrons overheard them and pointed them my way."
Diomedes crossed his arms, his expression impassive. "What did they want to know?"
"They asked for your background, your skills, your weaknesses. They tried to be subtle, but I've been in this business too long to miss the signs." Archillaus smirked. "I didn't give them the truth, of course. I spun them a tale about a humble fisherman's son with a knack for hunting. Nothing that would raise alarms."
Diomedes nodded, appreciating Archillaus' cunning. "Did they say who sent them?"
"No, but I'd bet my best bottle of wine that they're working for one of the princes. Likely Rhesus or that sly Athenian. Both have the most to gain from undermining you." Archillaus' tone turned grave. "Be careful, Diomedes. These aren't the kind of men who play fair."
Diomedes stared at the ground for a moment, then back at Archillaus. "Thank you for the warning. If they return, let me know immediately."
Archillaus grinned. "Of course. And if you ever need information—or a place to lay low—you know where to find me."
As Diomedes made his way back to the amphitheater, his thoughts churned. So, they're trying to dig into my past. To find a weakness? Or fabricate one?
He glanced up at the princes seated in the royal box. Prince Rhesus caught his eye for a moment, his expression unreadable but his posture exuding arrogance. Nearby, the Athenian prince lounged in his seat, his smirk hinting at schemes of his own.
Diomedes clenched his fists. If they think they can outmaneuver me, they're in for a surprise.
Diomedes made a mental note to tread carefully. If someone was attempting to gather intelligence, it meant they were preparing for a calculated move. He couldn't afford to reveal his suspicions or alert potential adversaries that he was onto them. Instead, he decided to observe and let his enemies make the first mistake.
As he ascended the steps back to his vantage point near Princess Andromeda, his eyes swept across the amphitheater. The crowd's energy was palpable, their excitement feeding into the intensity of the matches. Yet beneath the surface, Diomedes sensed undercurrents of intrigue, the invisible strings of schemes being pulled.
His eyes landed again on Prince Aegion of Athens, whose smug demeanor had not waned since his champion's earlier victory. Aegion was speaking quietly with one of his attendants, their expressions suggesting a conversation of some importance. Diomedes noted the subtle glances directed his way and made a silent vow to remain vigilant.
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A/N: I am the Author of this novel, this is my very first novel, I have written some fanfic though.
Please, after reading these few chapters, add this novel to your collection, so that I will be able to know the direction to take on this novel.
I appreciate you reading this and expect for you to provide comments so that I could improve my writing.
I will be release between 2-4 chapters a day, sometime I might not, but I will try keep up to your expectations.