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But then he heard the horn of victory coming from the foothills, and the joyful Liberi brought news of the truce.

The frightened Sargonian stumbled and fell as he fled. Xanthos's comrades held him back and prevented him from killing the prisoner.

Slowly but surely, resentment began to build within his heart.

Life and vitality were gone from the soil of his homeland, but the marks that the Sargonians left behind linger.

Their banners, their landmines. The dam they built, which killed the river, became an indelible scar upon the land.

He saw many Sargonians make a hurried retreat towards the border on his way to Athenius.

He never joined the Minoans who threw rocks and spat at them, because it was not enough.

In Athenius, he rowed his ferry on the Delphi Canal day after day. He watched over the ebb and flow of the canal, but he could not keep the river of his own heart in check.

Rage roiled in his heart, seeking an opening.

Now, the opportunity that he had waited for so long has finally come.

He clutches his oar.

I, a criminal thrown into the death cell awaiting trial, have waited an eternity for this moment.

No matter what punishment awaits me for all these reasons—

I will stand before the Sargonians and my own people, with nothing to hide, and ask my question of you!

The audience is hushed. Even the haughty Sargonian deputy falls silent.

I lost my home and my dearest friend in the war.

I followed in his tracks and saw countless of our own at death's door along the way.

The dreams we once had were trampled underfoot by the invaders, never to be rebuilt.

Why, I ask the invaders, did you set foot on this land that did not belong to you?

And what makes you think you can shamelessly come to Athenius just a few years after the truce, acting like nothing ever happened?

He looks up at the two people in the middle of the stage. The Sargonian woman opens her mouth, but closes it without saying anything.

Pallas lowers the dagger.

My people, I am surprised how quickly you forget.

Did a century of colonization and oppression leave nothing behind in your hearts?

The Sargonians destroyed our homes and cities, distorted our culture, extinguished our language.

Is this memory not enough for you to be on guard against the Sargonians?

How could you cast the past aside? How dare you continue to deal with them?

Culture? Exchange? Fine words!

They're not just taking the technical data from the construction of the Three Poleis, but the blood and sweat that we shed when we built them!

They're taking away evidence of their crimes, rewriting history, creating an illusion of Sargonian friendship to wipe away the memory!

All of you are accomplices and accessories!

Xanthos looks towards the audience. The Sargonian deputy is furious, while the Astynomos of Athenius is utterly impassive, as though she fully expected him to be here.

Kassandra is looking at him with a worried expression a short distance away, while his apprentice, Lykeion, is watching from the shadows in a distant corner alongside his old classmate.

The two people on stage look stunned. He does not know how much of it is an act, and how much of it is his own imagination.

Lying beneath their feet is the soldier whom he kicked aside, looking equally surprised.

Yes, the war is over. It seems like we could forget all the hurt and pain, and begin a new life.

So we dug out the divine revelations, dramas and legends from old paper piles, built temples and altars, and thought we were continuing the legacy of the heroes.

Does a life of leisure really bring inner peace? Do pale words really comfort the departed?

I see only conspiracy, scheming and selfish desires. Where is the spirit of Minos? Where is true heroic spirit?

All is silent. Then, the Sargonian woman steps forward.

I can see the frustration and yearning in your eyes.

You want to cross swords with the Sargonians, face to face. This is your heroic spirit.

Here is your chance. Come. As a Sargonian, I owe you this battle.

(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!