level_act48side_06_end

You really sure about leaving the village?

I'll be off at first light tomorrow.

The fields have already been replowed, there's plenty of seeds and grain, and the storehouse has also been fixed. As for the ferrying, I've taught a few of the young ones. Don't worry.

I'm worried about <i>you</i>, Xanthos.

You've never left the marsh before, and now you want to run off into the distance, all to find a stranger?

Ithakos is my brother. He's helped us all out before.

It's been an entire year. Maybe he's already headed back to Athenius... That's where he was from, it makes sense.

The things he agreed to do, he will do.

Once the war is over, he will return. He promised me.

Have you ever considered... if... if he's already...

He went off... to fight the Sargonians...

Then I shall avenge him. I shall avenge the Minoans.

<p=1>Northern Mountains, Minos</>

Hey, don't get so worked up! You've got the wrong guy! I'm really not your Ithakos or whatever it was!

The one getting worked up is you, friend. I merely recognized the armor you wear.

It belonged to Ithakos, my brother. Before he left, every family in our village donated leather and iron for it. I was the one who made that set of armor presentable, and forged him his weapon.

F-Forgive me, I've been battling for so long now, big battles, small ones, and it's been a long time since I had some proper sleep. My mind's...

Here. There's still some calming herbal tea in the pot.

Can you tell me who you got this armor from?

Another guerrilla friend. We ran into a skirmish... He took an arrow, and before he died, he gave it to me...

But his name wasn't Ithakos.

Phew...

You see all these marks on the armor? It must've passed through a lot of hands to get that many...

You might not know this, but we guerrillas aren't like the Sargonian army. We're not well-supplied.

Everyone gathers up weapons, armor and food, which get given out depending on the mission's priority.

I can tell you that fallen guerrilla's unit number, and that'll get you where you need to be. Oh, right, let me give you the armor back first.

Keep it. It's still of use to you. Just telling me the way is enough, friend.

If you insist, but are you sure you want to search the mountains?

These mountains are our stomping grounds, and where we battle the Sargonians...

Then I'll join you.

You ever seen a battlefield before?

(Shakes head) Before all this, I had only ever held oars and farm tools.

But we have no other choice, do we?

Sorry, I don't really remember the smiling, long-haired Forte you mentioned.

As for these boots, I got given them when I joined the guerrillas... According to the friend who gave them to me, they belonged to a middle-aged guy who was missing a chunk out of his left horn.

There's a hole in them.

S-Sorry. They're a little small for me, and I haven't had the time to mend them.

Those Sargonians have been chasing us this entire time. If you hadn't shown up to support us in the nick of time...

Sit down.

Huh?

I'll help you mend them.

Na'sai kala... Wow, you've got big hands, but they're nimble... How long've you been one of us?

Four months. I came here to find someone, at first.

Keep the boots.

Fighting, marching, hiding, reorganizing. You bleed, you die, or you wipe your sword, then you jump into the next battle... Days like these are long ones.

Where's the man who gave you these boots? Just point me the way, friend.

I knew this letter carved on the corner of this shield meant something... You're saying it's short for 'Ithakos', and you carved it?

(Nods)

So you've spent half a year wandering the battlefields, staying with pretty much every one of our bands, just to find this guy?

It seems you don't have much you can tell me either.

Sorry, Xanthos. Also, I don't plan on giving this shield back to you.

Look at just how many blade marks there are on it! And these black marks... Sargonian Arts can barely make a dent in it!

I need to keep it. It'll let me protect more of our friends, maybe even keep me alive long enough to go home one day.

If that is the case, then I couldn't be happier.

Let the name 'Ithakos' stay by your side. Let our blood, our eyes, be witness to our victory.

This is where we part, my friend.

Just point me the way. It is all I ask.

Try changing hands. Ithakos was left-handed, which I kept in mind when I made this Arts unit for him.

I knew it! I knew something felt off about the power levels!

...It's already been a whole year, Xanthos.

Time flies, as swift as a melted river.

You're already the most famous guerrilla in the mountains. You've fought the most fights, walked the most battlefields. Everybody sings of your heroism...

Are you really going to keep searching for your brother?

I have no reason to stop.

Like how you will not turn and leave the battlefield.

Hah, you're right.

Your accent. You're from Lachedamon?

I sure am. Well, more specifically, my hometown is on the route the nomadic city follows. It's a river valley, absolutely beautiful in spring.

I've just told you about my hometown, the village Ithakos and I founded together. You should tell me more about yours.

We have been losing this war for over a hundred years. We do not know how it will end. We should remember each other's hometowns... We should remember each other.

I'll be more than happy to, my friend.

I continue my search tomorrow. Just point me the way, friend.

Why must I suffer the indignity of being tied to this tree, Minoan?

Like I said, answer my question.

Ithakos, Ithakos, Ithakos! Always about Ithakos!

Fine, fine, <i>tozz feek,</i> I've had enough... Two years ago, my troops met with Minoan guerrillas near here. They were escorting some wounded.

I remember their ensign, matches the unit you mentioned.

We wiped them out. That Ithakos you keep talking about should've been one of them.

You happy now? Did you seriously set up an ambush for the sake of a battle two years ago, so you could capture me and have your revenge?

You're mad, Minoan, an absolute lunatic!

You might not believe me, but this is all just a coincidence.

Before today, I was not thinking of finding Ithakos, or killing his enemies.

This battle is no different to the ones of the past year, no, the past century.

You invaded land that doesn't belong to you, Sargonian, and we have no choice but to defend our home.

I have simply become accustomed to asking everyone I meet: 'Have you seen Ithakos? Have you seen that smiling, long-haired Forte? He's from Athenius, but he has a south country accent.'

Such a thing truly does mean I am, as you say, 'mad'.

I have found his armor, his boots, his shield, his Arts unit... Everything he left behind on this wooded mountain, I have found.

I have found him.

I have never once thought you invaders would remember the name of every Minoan you met. Your padishahs hardly care about what every line in your books of merit actually means, do they?

That said... Ithakos. Remember this name.

It is our passion, our love, and your crime, your punishment.

Now, tell me.

Where was that battle, exactly?!

Which of these firs was watered with the blood of Minos?!

Xanthos looks up, and sees countless Minoan firs, standing tall. The wind blows, and the entire forest rustles.

This land, these woods. They remember many things, but they do not speak.

His brother, his friend, the youth who followed his revelation and left home. He died here, somewhere. Everywhere.

Ithakos, countless Ithakoses, have left not even bones, all for the sake of the land beneath their feet.

Xanthos lifts the giant oar in his hand. After an entire year, it has forgotten the river's burble. Now, all that can wet it is the blood of his enemy!

Did you avenge Ithakos?

No.

Just as I was about to smash in the head of that Sargonian with my weapon, my friend stopped me, while the bugles cried out.

You never told me the campaign you experienced was...

The final battle before Minos and Sargon signed a ceasefire. Minos, which had lost for a hundred years,

hah, had finally won.

That friend of mine desperately held back my hand. He had a broken leg, yet he could still bring such strength to bear to rein me in.

I turned, and saw his face full of tears, and his eyes full of fear... Not towards the Sargonians, but towards me.

I knew what he was so afraid of.

He was afraid I would destroy this hard-won 'peace'. He was afraid I would bring about new conflict, that I would extend this cruel war. He was afraid he would become like Ithakos, forever unable to return home.

My pent-up rage and grief had nowhere to go. All I could do was watch that Sargonian officer kneel on the ground, numbly listening to the bugles. The same numbness I felt...

It was that moment I knew the war will rage on in our bodies. It had begun, and it could never end.

You are right. The Minos in my heart no longer exists. It died on the battlefield many years ago, alongside the Ithakoses.

But I will not allow the enemy to defile our land again. Not even if they had built this city.

'Not even if they had built this city'... So, even the textbooks say that nowadays?

What do you mean?

Ithakos went to your village, so full of passion, unlike me. He must have taught you many building techniques.

Indeed. He renovated nearly every important building in the village.

His techniques were passed down from his ancestors. During the occupation, my own grandfather was pressed into service by the Sargonians to build the nomadic cities, thanks to his mastery of engineering.

What?

The mobility layer of this Athenius might just be his handiwork.

Forgive me, I was far too rude to you earlier. I...

Do not bow your head for that, boy.

I am not the engineer who built the nomadic cities, I don't have proof of how much our ancestors toiled building Athenius. All that data was taken away by the Sargonians.

The Sargonians wanted the Minoan engineers' data... but why?

An engineer's notes will always have something more than just jargon and modification blueprints.

He had to keep track of the quantities of building materials, while coordinating transport and construction teams, so he was a meticulous planner of manpower, and remembered the names of every worker.

Not Sargonian workers, but the names of those from Minos, and where they came from, and how the Sargonians forced them to do their bidding.

Minoan workers? As I recall, current mainstream thinking is that Padishah Malla did not use any Minoan workers for heavy labor while the Three Poleis were being built.

Do you mean to say...?

History was not written by us, not even our final victory.

But there is evidence of wrongdoing, evidence that should be shared with the public. Do you remember where these engineer's notes are?

How should I know? Ask the Sargonians... Ah, but those Sargonians are probably dead by now, haha...

Ask the Sargonians... The construction of the Three Poleis...

No!

What is it, Master?

The Sargonian mission is not using the exchange to obtain technical data, but rather, the notes detailing proof of the Sargonians' sins!