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(It's been a long time since I last felt hot blood flowing in my veins.)

(Not since I left the battlefield and left my homeland have I...)

His vision begins to blur from the loss of blood. Everything seems covered in a white glow, and he instinctively closes his eyes.

He hears the song of a harp, but he does not know from whence it comes.

He forces his eyes open, and sees himself in an unfamiliar space. He seems to be floating in mid-air, people passing in front of his eyes without acknowledging him.

It is as though he is in a dream.

I will never work with the Sargonians! Beat me, torture me, kill me if you want—

But you won't get one word out of me about the guerrillas!

So there are guerrillas.

...<i>Skata</i>!

Why are you so angry? I thought Minoans liked logic. That's what the stories of heroes all say.

Are you trying to butter me up? I'm not talking!

No need to be so on edge. Just wanted to have a conversation. I don't like interrogating people either.

But I'll be reprimanded if I don't spend enough time in here. Nothing I can do.

What are you doing, Mashayer? Are you so stupid you can't do something as simple as interrogate a prisoner?

I'm on it, sir!

Piece of trash. Some noble. Pah.

The prisoner watches as his interrogator jumps up from the ground nervously, while his superior leaves after casually hurling a few words of abuse.

Both seem used to such a situation. It is as though the officer cusses and abuses the guard on a daily basis.

The guard's complexion is young and pale. He is thin and mild-mannered, very different from the villagers' impression of Sargonians.

The prisoner warns himself not to let his guard down.

Sargonians are cunning. Perhaps the two of them conspired to put on an act.

Well, I have to act like I'm interrogating you.

Could you... say something? Anything.

Anything? I've got a litany of curses for you. I could go on for days.

...Let's talk about something else. Something nicer, something that can help us forget about our struggles and helplessness... tell me some Minoan heroic stories.

I know some of your legends from ancient books that I collected, but they're not easy to find in Sargon.

You already told this story a couple of days ago. I remember.

Tsk.

Anything else? Think!

(Weren't we just putting on a show for his superior? Why is he taking such careful notes?)

(Why would a Sargonian love Minoan legends so much? Is there something not right with this guy's head?)

You've only told a hundred or so. There must be more stories and legends in the land of heroes.

(Trying to provoke me? Not falling for that!)

Fragments you heard from the elders as a child are fine. It doesn't need to be complete or popular.

The kind of story that would make a little Sargonian girl dream about Minos... there must be more, right?

(<i>Skata</i>... well, if that's what he wants...)

(I'll just make one up. It's not like this <i>idiotis</i> Sargonian could tell.)

Alright. Let me tell you about Siopi, the silent hero.

It is the strangest experience the prisoner has ever had. No one would believe the story if he told it. He decided to take it with him to his grave—

If he ever gets out of here.

Bloody bother. Finally got him off my back for the day.

I didn't know I was so good at making up stories. I should become a bard if I ever get out.

If I ever get out...

Is that a crack in the door?

Did that <i>ilithios</i> forget to lock the door?

It has been a long time since he last saw the stars. It almost feels like he is dreaming as he breathes the air of freedom again.

Is he out? Is he free? Just like this?

Useless trash! You've been in that Minoan's cell every single day, and you haven't gotten one scrap of intel about the guerrillas?

S-Sorry, sir. I've been taking records, but he contradicts himself every day. I... I'm afraid nothing he says can be trusted.

I knew you couldn't get anything done! Incompetent fool!

I'll interrogate him tomorrow while you watch and learn how things are done in the lord ameer's army!

Y-Yes, sir...

The fugitive hears the guard and his superior talking in the distance. He hastens his movement through the bushes.

The movement seems to have drawn the attention of the Sargonians.

How did the prisoner get out?!

After him, Mashayer, you worthless shit! You are DEAD, if you don't catch him!

Hearing the sound made by the skinny guard's ill-fitting armor sets the fugitive's heart at ease.

He knows a single Sargonian could never catch him, on this Minoan land.

He takes one final look back as he escapes the Sargonian camp.

The fugitive sees the frail guard stumble and fall. The guard's luxurious armor, probably an heirloom, weighs him down so much that he struggles to get himself off the ground.

Or perhaps... he just wanted an excuse to not get up?

Did he really forget to lock the door, or did he finally find an opportunity to leave a crack?

The prisoner does not know.

The only thing that the prisoner knows is that he will never forget the time he spent at the Sargonian camp, and the ridiculous-looking Sargonian.

(What... is this?)

It's my father.

Xanthos turns around in surprise, and sees the Sargonian woman, standing in the same vision as he.

There is surprise on her face, yes, but also nostalgia and poignance.

I know he came to Minos in the lord ameer's army, but was sent back to Sargon for his incompetence. He would have received a heavier punishment, but what little glory the House of Mashayer had left protected him one last time.

He never really... achieved anything, and it wasn't a surprise that he would mess up after he was conscripted. He didn't like to talk about his time in Minos, and I never asked...

I didn't know this was where those stories of the Minoan heroes he told me came from.

He's very different from my image of a Sargonian.

Yes. He was always weak and soft, never talking back even when insulted to his face... I always wondered why he loved heroic stories so much, when he was the furthest thing from a hero.

No wonder... no wonder he told me the story of Siopi the silent hero so many times, the hero who kept a secret for thirty years...

He planted the seed of heroes in your heart.

I have high hopes for you, Medjehtiqedti Nasutu Mashayer.

It is an honor.

Do you understand why I appointed someone like you to lead the mission, someone so young and inexperienced?

You must have your reasons.

You're much smarter than your father was.

The House of Mashayer was a noble house with a rich tradition, and I was on good terms with your elders.

It pained me to see the family fall on hard times under your father, who was frail and idle.

I arranged a cushy post for him in the lord ameer's army in Minos, safely away from the frontlines, and he almost got himself into a court-martial.

When Minos came up again after all these years, you were the first person I thought of.

Young Medjehtiqedti is much sharper than her father, I thought. I'm sure she will have no trouble bringing a harp to Minos and bringing back a few blueprints that belonged to Sargon to begin with.

You'll do a fine job and do your family proud, won't you?

Yes, exalted padishah! I loved the legends of Minos, and I've wanted to see true heroism with my own eyes since I was little. I'll make sure the Minoan mission goes perfectly!

The padishah said a bunch of flowery words to me before I left, but I never understood why he made me the head of this mission.

I guess it's because it's easy to get rid of me, if something goes wrong.

And I had no idea that those 'blueprints' contained such detailed records.

Frankly, I don't really care about doing the Mashayer name proud.

I came because I wanted to see this land that I've always been fascinated by with my own eyes, to chase the legends that I've only heard about...

Or perhaps, I wanted to find some answers about my father...

What is this land of heroes that father talked about really like, and what is the heroic spirit really like? I wanted to learn, to find out. That's why I came to Minos.

Have you found the answer?

Yes. What about you?

I...

I was once like you, Xanthos.

Pallas?! You too...