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Such beauty! The warm winds welcome the gentle waters of Delphi through the mountains.

Upon ruin and rubble we have built our temple. Now the sacred flame burns bright, in the fragrance of flowers and incense.

The songs and legends of heroes have given us courage to gather here this beautiful day—

Remember how greedy outlanders invaded our land, enslaved us, and silenced the song of all.

But our faith held strong. The outlanders could not break our will, nor chain our free souls.

We, the people of Minos formed in union, our faith and will victorious.

Now, we drive the last outlander from our soil!

As she recites the lines, Pallas seems to see the old First Temple and the mountain-rimmed gardens through Kereseira's own eyes.

Once, the people who had lost hearth and home gathered before Kereseira, just as the citizens of Athenius gather before Pallas now, sitting and standing.

They are all holding their breaths, waiting for the most important moment—

The moment that comforts the hearts of all Minoans and shows them that the long night and nightmare have passed, and the beautiful future that the divine revelations and heroic stories spoke of lies before them.

The last outlander is here.

Her heart beating wildly, Titi steps on stage, slowly but firmly.

This is what she has chosen, her play and her role.

There are words that she must say, things that she must do.

I repent for all that was done by us, our fathers, and their fathers before them.

We have trodden upon soil that was never ours—whether by choice or under the guise of compulsion—out of greed and baseness, out of fear and cowardice.

The hands that should have nurtured families tore the families of others apart. The spears that should have protected their own nation were pointed at innocents.

We must pay for all that we have done.

Your dagger, my lady.

Kereseira picks up the executional dagger.

The weapon has accompanied Kereseira ever since she hung her harp on the laurel tree.

Years of fighting have taken their toll in the form of chipping across the blade, but the tip remains sharp enough to take a life.

The outlander relaxes as Kereseira prepares to make her move.

As dramatic music begins to play, Pallas, playing Kereseira, hesitates a little.

Titi suddenly recalls the soldier who gave the blade to Kereseira. His face was covered, his figure unfamiliar, and his motions somewhat halting.

Was he one of the actors that she picked for the play? Titi begins to feel unsure.

The stage of the theater is wide and empty. The audience seems so far away, but Titi can hear their clamor. Are they excited about the play?

—'Kill her! Make the invaders pay!'

Or was it for the Sargonian standing before them in the theater?

She looks up at the dagger in Pallas's hand. The tip of the blade, which should have been made of rubber, reflects a metallic gleam in the sun.

All must end here.

Only then can we retrieve the harp from the laurel tree, drink fine wine, and return to the mountains and land that nourished us.

The play must go on. She must believe, believe in her friend, in the heroic spirit of the Minoans.

Titi closes her eyes.

Despicable! Disgrace!

Have you no pride, Minoans? Have you no honor?

Have you no heroic spirit?

The audience falls silent.

They slowly part to let a tall figure through, walking towards the stage with dignity and resolve.

He walks on stage, and kicks the Agamem soldier standing in his way to one side.

Swapping the dagger to make a murder look like an accident... since when did Minoans learn such underhanded methods?

Now THAT is what I wanted to see. A surprise, something unexpected.

Of course, it would have been interesting too if you hadn't held yourself back.

Athenius's business should be handled by the citizens of Athenius... we should trust Pallas, even if this man didn't make an appearance.

Please excuse my impetuousness.

Astynomos! What in the padishah's name is going on?!

It is an insult to have a Sargonian play such a—a denigrating role! And what did the man mean when he talked about the dagger? As an emissary of Sargon, I cannot allow—

Kindly collect yourself, Kýrios Behnui. It was Kyría Mashayer's own decision to play the role.

It is hardly becoming of an emissary to shout like this during such an important occasion, when the dust has yet to settle.

Xanthos...

So you never left Athenius...

Xanthos remembers the day when he raised his oar at the Sargonian he had tied to the tree.

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.