Chapter 1: A Time of War

There are moments in life that make men of boys. I recall the exact moment I had become a man. The Battle of Lenaeus Beach is a famous story for good reason, but it was on the journey there that changed my life. This golden, horseshoe shaped ornament resting around my neck is what’s known to the barbarian tribes in the north as a torc. I took it from the battlefield when I was much younger, in that defining moment. This is the story of The Rider with the Golden Torc.

I was of seventeen years at the time. My younger brother Estrianes and I sat high in the branches of a tree overlooking the Eastern gate of Demepolis. In that day, you would not have recognized it. Back then, it was more of a large town surrounded by wooden walls rather than the city it is today. It took dangerous times and the fall of a city to make Demepolis what it is today.

My brother and I frequently raced to the top of this tree in most mornings, after our chores had been completed, if we did them at all. The cool morning breeze refreshed us as we sat looking at the sunlight slowly warming whatever it touched. “All I’m saying,” said Estrianes, “is that there will come a day where we will be proved as warriors. Our names will ring out in songs telling of our bravery.”

I smiled. “Gods willing, that day will be soon. I grow tired of practice.”

“And yet you always require more,” he laughed. I raised my eyebrow at him.

While I tried to think of something witty, a shout from the city’s gate distracted me. Both straining our eyes, we peered through the leaves at the guard on top of the wooden gatehouse. He shouted down to the others for the gate to be opened. Typically all the gates of the city would be opened for traders and travelers soon, this seemed like an exception.

The gates were pulled opened slightly and a single man emerged into the city. He hunched over and was collecting his breath as the gates were pushed shut. “It looks like a runner,” I said. “I wonder where from.”

“Leoniki perhaps?” offered Estrianes. “Perhaps they’re being raided by brigands. We may finally be called on to fight.” I liked the prospect of that. Both of us yearned to test our skills in the heat of combat. Youth makes fools of us all.

One of the guards at the gate offered the man a cup and bread. After hearing the runner out, a group of guards spread out in different directions, running with messages. “I think they’re going to call the council!” the words left my mouth excitedly “Come on!” I hastily climbed down the tree with my brother close behind.

If we were right, the nobles would be summoned from their homes within the city and would meet in the council chambers within the palace. We ran toward our town’s acropolis where our tyrant, Ankarithesos, resided in limited luxury. I was told his palace was modeled after the fashion of larger cities by his father’s father, having the tyrant’s citadel and dwelling on the highest point in the city. Our acropolis was merely a large man-made pile of dirt the height of two men, on which was a small but nice palace. At least by my standards it was nice. At that time, I had little to compare it to.

The dirt road leading to the palace split from the main road and lead up to the front pillars of the tyrant’s dwelling, which we were keen to avoid. Estrianes and I ran around to the back of the large structure. In years past, Estrianes and I worked hard to create footholds in the packed earth that allowed us to climb up to the back of the palace. From where we would climb to the roof using scars that the weather had created in one specific pillar. Due to lots of practice, we knew the safest way up.

Hauling ourselves onto the palace roof, we walked over to the skylights in the roof of the council chamber within a wing of the palace. In addition to help illuminate the chamber on sunny days, they also allowed Estrianes and I to spy on council meetings and listen to our father speak.

The council chamber was built in a circle with stone, amphitheater seating where the town’s nobles and elders would sit. The town elders were responsible for creating laws but it was the nobles who ruled the town and the land surrounding it, much more fun to eavesdrop on. They were the ones who talked about war, where it was and who to make it on.

We did not have to wait long before Ankarithesos entered with a stream of men, all of noble birth. We watched the seating fill and took note of those we recognized. Clytomedes was easy to spot with is full red beard, also a political rival of our father.

Klysestes was the next to be recognized by us. He was well-built, had short cropped blonde hair and had sharp blue eyes that made me feel as if I were being pricked by pins when he looked at me in town. He wore a tunic of higher quality than most others in attendance, one of the many symbols of his wealth.

Finally, the chamber had filled with the near sixty nobles of our town and the occasional firstborn son. My brother and I both smiled when our father, Estriadamos, enter the room. He was the patriarch of the once influential Estrii Tribe, from which our noble family names are derived. Close on his heels was our eldest brother, Estriadites. Being the firstborn and having five more years than I, Estriadites was our father’s favorite. He was being groomed to take father’s place as our tribe’s future patriarch.

The seats of the chamber were filled when Ankarithesos strode to the short orator’s platform at the front of the room, next to a wooden desk where the scribe sat patiently. As our tyrant, he inherited sole rule of our town from his father, now the third in the dynastic line. He was meant to be a warrior from birth. Standing at least a head taller than most citizens, his towering presence cast an intimidating shadow. “We have a message from our allies in Lektrios, across the mountains,” he said in a booming voice and motioned for the runner we had seen at the Eastern gate.

The runner nodded respectively and walked up to the orator’s platform while Ankarithesos sat. He was a young man, likely a few years older than me at the time. His light blue tunic was cinched at the waist by a belt and was discolored by dust from the road. “My name is Delios, and I’ve come from the great city of Lektrios bearing a message of great importance.”

Clearing his throat, Delios continued. “Long have our cities been allies, since we came at your request to stand by your sides against the Kalocean incursion into your lands fourteen years prior,” a poignant reminder. Estrianes and I tried to divine what course the message was to take. “At this time a new threat casts its shadow over our lands. Our merchants have reported a buildup of forces and supplies across the sea in the Elahkarian Empire. They’ve made it no secret that they mean to cross the sea and subjugate us. All of us.”

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Murmurs from the nobles spread through the chamber. “What if that’s not the case?” replied a voice from the audience. Clytomedes stood up in the amphitheater seating. “It’s also not a secret Lektrios supported the uprising of Myclaetta and our other sister cities across the sea. What if the Elahkarians only come for revenge on Lektrios for their hand in the rebellion?” He turned to face his peers, “We are far enough from the coast. Should we not look to our own wellbeing rather than affairs not of our own creation?”

The patriarchs considered this warily. “One doesn’t honor alliances merely when it’s convenient,” a voice boomed through the silence. Father rose and looked down at Clytomedes from a few rows behind. Their eyes met. “We are in the Lektrians’ debt. In fifteen years, how many times have they called upon us for aid?” There was silence. “None. They’ve bled for us. Standing by them now is the honorable thing to do. Not that I would expect you to know anything about honor.” Clytomedes bristled and the color of his face began to match his beard.

Father turned his attention to Delios, “How long do we have, if we were to march?”

“Our spies tell us that the Elahkarians are expecting the first of their fleet to meet the coast within three days,” replied Delios.

“You expect us to cross two mountain ranges, on foot, and make it to Lektrios in three days?” scoffed Clytomedes.

“With the Lektrian navy in its home port, the only suitable location for them to land is Lenaeus Beach, a short ways up the coast,” explained Delios. “If they cannot be stopped there, it won’t be long before Lektrios itself falls.”

“I say we put it to a vote,” voiced Clytomedes. Those around him nodded.

Though the final decision rested solely with Ankarithesos, even he had to be wary of making unpopular decisions. “Let it be put to vote,” declared our Tyrant.

“Before the vote begins, you should know,” Delios hesitated. “We also have news of an enemy force already in the land. There are reports of raids on country estates and farms. We don’t know their numbers or when they arrived.”

“More proof we should keep the phalanx here and protect our own!” Clytomedes shouted above the argumentative voices of fellow patriarchs.

“It should also be said,” continued the Lektrian ambassador in a loud voice to regain their attention, “If the phalanx of Demepolis does not march, and we prevail on our own, our alliance will be dissolved. If that happens, the Kaloceans may feel encouraged to invade. It would be only a matter of time before their phalanx marches down from the north.”

“Let us vote then,” said Klysestes. His harsh blue eyes scanned the nobles. “Marching to aid Lektrios is in our best interest. Who here votes to march?” I counted forty-two hands raised, the majority vote.

Klysestes held an open hand toward our seated tyrant. Ankarithesos stood, “It’s settled. Make your preparations quickly. We march within the hour.”

****

Estrianes and I were all smiles and boyish excitement as we ran down the street toward home. We weren’t just going to war. We were going on an adventure. Running through the market, we slipped between merchant stalls and morning patrons, in the center of town, many of which who hurled insults at us for being reckless.

“This way!” cried Estrianes.

I stopped in the middle of the street, “This way is quicker.”

My younger brother looked warily down the road I was on. I could see him thinking of an excuse to avoid the road passing Klysestes’ estate. “I’ll race you to prove my way is quicker.” I could tell he wanted it to be true.

“Fine,” I said and jogged down the road only looking back for a moment to see Estrianes shake his head and take his own path.

Not far down the road came the familiar bend, where the road veered to the left in front of the estate. Klysestes himself had the road moved to accommodate the size of his new home. Being the richest man in the city does have its privileges. Architects measured Ankarithesos’ palace before construction began so that Klysestes would be sure his home did not overshadow their tyrant’s.

Calculated luxury was the hallmark of Klysestes. He made sure that even though his home was made from fine marble that it wasn’t too white or opulent to make the jealous angry enough to move against him. He was also the only patriarch I knew of in the city that actually armed his estate slaves and used them to guard his property. One could say he was using his property to protect his property.

I trotted past the stone wall surrounding the estate, taking in the sight. The wall was taller than an average man and only allowed you to see the second floor of the large house. I was spellbound until a shove almost made me fall backward. Regaining my footing, I looked up, and my fists closed tight.

Klysestes’ son, Kyron, stood in front of me with his usual four friends, sons of other nobles. He had the same blonde hair and piercing blue eyes as his father. “Do you make a habit of walking blindly into pedestrians?” he asked snidely.

“I was too busy noting the eyesore behind me to notice the likes of you,” I replied, frustrated I could not think of anything better to say.

“It figures,” Kyron replied smugly. “I can understand how the sight of a manse like mine could make jealous eyes sore.” I stood still, waiting for inspiration that never came. “I’m glad to see you’ve learned not to talk back to your betters.”

That made my blood burn. I shoved Kyron back a couple steps and his face darkened. “Touch me again, and I promise you, it will be the last mistake you ever make.”

I stepped forward and spit on his tunic. Kyron charged bearing his teeth, arms extended, ready to tackle. I braced for the tackle and sent my arms out low to reach for his. Kyron halted before impact, planted his feet and delivered his right fist into my cheek.

Stumbling back, I held my fists up defensively. As soon as he walked within range, I launched a blow at his face, which he easily parried. His right fist drove itself into my stomach. I hunched over and felt his left fist hook into the side of my head. When my head shot up, his fist slammed into my brow, and I fell flat on my back.

Before I could regain my footing, Kyron tried to stomp on my stomach. I evaded the full force of the blow by rolling on my side and curling up defensively, which was exactly what he wanted. He jumped down onto me, driving his knee into my back, and pinning me to the ground with his full weight. I couldn’t move or even strike back.

“I’m going to leave you a reminder to respect those of real nobility,” said Kyron, motioning to a friend for a knife. With a bronze dagger in hand, he pressed the blade to my cheek. My heart was racing, and I coughed from breathing in dust from the road. I wanted to say anything to make him stop but with my nerves as they were, I couldn’t manage a sound.

“Kyron!” a sharp voice cut through the morning air. I did my best to look over and saw Klysestes standing by the stone wall in front of his dwelling. “Leave him in the dirt and come inside,” ordered Kyron’s father.

Kyron obeyed, handing the dagger back to his friend. “Our business is far from over,” he said then spat on my face. He and his friends followed Klysestes into the house while I pushed myself to my feet, standing glowering with impotent rage. I looked up at the house, a young woman stood at a second story window briefly before hurrying away.

I turned and walked away knowing I had been humiliated and that Kyron’s beautiful sister, Kythenes, had seen everything. What made things worse was that I had not attacked by five men of my own age. Kyron was more than enough to put me into the dirt.

A short jog brought me in view of home, our family’s modest and outdated estate. Walking up to the whitewashed mud-brick wall that surrounded our home, Estrianes waited with his arms folded. He wore a concerned yet relieved look on his face. “See, that’s exactly why I did not want to take that route.” He pointed to my tunic. “I didn’t want to get dirty.” We both smiled.

I rubbed the side of my head, feeling what was sure to become a bruise. “You won.”

My younger brother walked up to me. “Let’s vow to the gods that you and I will always protect each other and stand side to side against any that would do us harm.”

“With the gods as my witness,” I said boldly, “I accept this vow.”

“And I too,” he replied. A grin took over his face. His hands grabbed my shoulders and shook me. “We’re going to war, brother!”