It had been nine days of moving through the forest since they came through the tunnel beneath the Kolasi Fruoros. They foraged for fruits, dug up roots and boiled them before mashing, and caught various birds, snakes, and other small fauna for their fire pits.

For nine days they were convinced that they were alone in the world. The forest was undisturbed and the foraging was easy. It also meant that they were nowhere near the city they were looking for, and they may be wandering the wilderness forever.

Then late into that ninth day, they stumbled upon a half collapsed stone wall. There wasn’t much else around it aside from crumbled stone strewn about, but they all gathered around it and touched it.

"This is the beginnings of the city," Iosifus said. “We aren’t far.”

The discovery gave the group encouragement. Though it was but a half wall, what was left standing was smoother than any common stone wall they had seen in the places they left behind. From the broken edge several rusted metal rods protruded.

They pressed on and would find various building remains scattered. There was what was either a room or a small house where a tree had grown from inside and the limbs extended out a small square window.

They made camp in what Iosifus thought was an old village square. They were surrounded by ancient trees in a grove that had never seen axes. They even wondered if they should just settle there in the overgrown structures.

"Do you know how much further until we reach the old city?" Symian asked that night at the fire.

"We are already in the city," Iosifus said. "Arkromenyon is spread out, almost never ending."

"A city as big as a country," Palimedis said. "So what part of the city are we headed to?"

"The throne room," Hirodias said. "It is only a bit more west, near the northern shore. We will find our kin there."

The smoke from the fire rose into the night sky, but when Hirodias looked up he could see no stars. Clouds blanketed the earth, and in a way he felt as if it blanketed him and his people as well. They were close, he knew. He had a feeling in his stomach that he hadn’t felt before. He laid there without speaking, letting the voices of the others lull him to sleep.

When Hirodias woke, it was in the moments before dawn, and there was just enough dim light through the trees for him to see the tip of a spear against his face. He sat up and looked at the spearweilder, a young sinewy boy with a blue stripe painted across his eyes and a fur and feather headdress. His instincts took over as he grabbed the spear and snapped it in two. The boy shrieked and several men clambered over from their crouched stances. Hirodias grabbed another spear, pulling it away from its weilder. He spun it and pointed at the assailants.

The noise woke the camp. A woman screamed, a pair of men shouted, and a child cried. Hirodias spun around keeping his attackers at bay. There were six of them now pointing spears at him. There were many more armed and pointing their spears and daggers at the women and children. His first instinct was to lash out, but then he thought of Isimil, in the magister's court. He thought of all the slaves and the screams of that night. He relaxed his tense body and stood straight, yielding his defensive stance and tossed the spear to the ground.

"Do not hurt my people," he said.

Palimedis surrendered also when he saw that Hirodias had done so. The attackers barked orders in a language Hirodias could not understand. “Kinisi! Kinisi!”

"Eimaste paidia tis manas!" Iosifus shouted. "Eimaste oloi aderfia!"

"Tha se steilo na gnoriseis ti mitera!” one of the attackers, a woman with braided hair, shouted back. "Kinisi!"

"She want us to march," Iosifus explained.

"I didn't travel all this way to be someone else's slave," Palimedis said.

"Nor I," Hirodias said as he took the first step. “Tell me what was said.”

“I told him we are all children of the Mother,” Iosifus said. “That we are all brothers.”

“That lady sounded pretty angry,” Palimedis said.

“She said unless we march, she’ll send us to meet the Mother.”

“That’s not a nice thing to say,” Symian said.

They marched through the day without much rest. South, Hirodias noticed. He could hear Iosifus talking to one of the spearmen. As long as there was dialogue, Hirodias had hope. They cut through several trees and came upon a worn path, which made their movement quicker.

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They approached a wooden barricade, where the woman with braided hair whistled and the gates opened. They were led into the encampment where they were surrounded by planked fences in a narrow walkway, and there were spaces in the fence where men stood with various spears. Hirodias noted that there were no other people around. Between the gaps of the fences he spotted steaming pots left unattended and piles of unmilled grain.

There the bulk of their people were made to sit, while the woman prodded Hirodias to continue on. Hirodias refused, signaling to Iosifus and Palimedis. Together the three of them made their way to a covered platform with a painted thatched roof. On the platform sat a man with white paint over his eyes and forehead. His hair was black with tar, and he wore a black woven tunic.

"Poioi eiste dolofonoi?" the man asked, his eyes hard.

The woman with the braided hair prodded Iosifus to step forward. "Den epidiokoume ti via," Iosifus bowed. "Eimaste sklavoi, elate spiti apo to Smote."

The man rose from his bench and let all the hardness leave his eyes. He now almost looked kind. "I am Glausus, priest of people in this tribe. I am priest and chieftain. This is my daughter Velias. New people to our village worry me, I think you have come to kill us.”

“Chieftain, we have escaped those trying to kill us,” Hirodias said. “We mean no harm.”

“Your elder say same. He say you are not from here, but from northern desert. Welcome, free men. Forgive my eastern tongue, I have learned some but not enough."

Glausus called out a command and the fences receded and revealed the people behind it. Women and children peeked their heads out of their buildings to gaze at Hirodias, the biggest person they had ever seen. As the villagers came out, Hirodias was a bit disappointed, as he had hoped the inhabitants of the forest would be bigger and taller than they were. Instead they were smaller than the slaves in Isimil. Velias, the braided woman, took her place beside Glausus. She had bare, muscular arms. Her skin was brown and she kept her emotions out of her face.

"I don’t know the old language, Chieftain, but I wish to go to the center of the city," Hirodias said. "Show me the way to the old Seat of Kings.”

"Seat of Kings?" Glausus asked, looking at Velias, who remained emotionless.

“Edra ton vasiliadon,” Iosifus translated.

"Ah, chair of Damocle," Glausus pointed. "Damocle sits on Seat of Kings. Damocle is chieftain of Crownwood."

“O Hirodias einai o klironomos tou Hesperyon,” Iosifus said.

Glausus leaned forward on his bench. "You are heir of Hesperyon? Show me heir’s mark."

Hirodias brushed his long brown hair aside and revealed the tattoo. Glausus howled at the sight and slammed the end of his rod on the ground. The men followed suit and repeatedly slammed the ends of their spears against the ground. "Damocle is mighty chieftain with great army. He is not friend to me. Damocle will not rise from Seat of Kings and give over seat to child of Hesperyon."

"I have shown you my mark. Now you show me the way to Damocle.”

"No. I take you," he replied. "If you take Seat of Kings, will you let Glausus sit beside you?"

"Very well," Hirodias said. "Though when I take the seat, both you and Damocle will have places beside me."

"We go to Damocle in several days?" Glausus asked. "Glausus will take you there. Child of Hesperyon's weary tribe rest here. It is not safe travel for so many, so old and so young.”

Hirodias nodded. "Iosifus, learn from the chieftain what you can about this Damocle."

That night Hirodias gathered with Palimedis and Symian in a hut that Glausus had vacated and offered for their stay. They sat on the ground around a small table.

"I thought we'd be accepted with open arms," Palimedis said. "Doesn't feel right to fight our own folk, but it will be interesting to see how well they would fare against us nonetheless."

"We never said we would have to fight them," Symian said. "This Damocle may be waiting for the rightful heir."

"That's how it works, eh?" Palimedis asked.

There was a rapping at the door and Iosifus entered the hut. Symian helped him sit on the ground.

"Tell me about Damocle," Hirodias said.

"This Damocle…he’s a warlord. He rules over the northern forest called the Crownwood," Iosifur said. "He takes over the surrounding tribes and adds to his army. His name is not uttered with favor among Glausus' people."

"Can we trust Glausus?" Palimedis asked. “They did try to kill us in our sleep.”

"He seeks peace for his people, or at least this is what he says to me," Iosifus continued. "He keeps his distance from Damocle. He says there are other tribes who have avoided the warlord. Many had left the Crownwood and has settled on the fringes of the great forest.”

“So there are some who challenge this warlord,” Hirodias noted.

“Damocles is at war with someone from the southern region of the forest,” Iosifus continued. “Glausus called him the Magnius, some sort of High Priest. Glausus thinks when those chieftains loyal to the Magnius learn of the return of the heir of Hesperyon, they will eagerly unite under their new king."

"At least this is what he says to you," Palimedis said.

"Tell me more of this Magnius,” Hirodias said.

Iosifus nodded. "Glausus spoke of some turmoil to the south, where the Magnius is migrating his people. Tribes are coming from beyond a river called Eredros. He said it is a treacherous river that few would brave crossing, but tribes are doing so at the cost of their lives. They endure that peril only to be met by Damocle, who forces them to join him in exchange for safe haven."

“Turmoil?” Palimedis asked. “Did he know what it is?”

Iosifus’ hip began hurting so he shifted his he sat. “The coming of a foreign god, Glausus says. He says the southern refugees call it the Spring God."

"War on all fronts,” Hirodias rested his chin on his palm. “A warlord to the north. A foreign god to the south, and we have found ourselves in the middle like slop between two pigs. I will need to reach out to this Magnius. The best way is to meet with Damocle. When the news I have arrived in the Crownwood, it may grab the attention of the Magnius. I will need the help of the many Fringewood tribes.”

"I inspected Glausus’ army as you wished," Symian added. "They may not look it but they have adequate training. His daughter Velias commands them. They are better with the spear than they are with bows and swords."

"None of it will matter if the numbers Glausus gave me is true. He has five hundred soldiers in his tribe," Iosifus added. "Damocle has ten thousand.”