Arthur’s quiet admiration and peaceful enjoyment of a seemingly idyllic society was only damaged, in fact, when they drew closer to the mentioned security station. The sounds of raised voices and metal on flesh reached his ears, and he automatically tensed for confrontation while some part of him he didn’t recognize began rapidly assessing escape and attack routes.
It was only when he and the Kidemones rounded a final corner and came within sight of the immaculate police station that the source of the commotion revealed itself.
Several blue-uniformed peace officers were in the midst of restraining and corralling a group of men in unassuming attire, each of them bearing similar features that only truly became apparent in their uniformity when compared to one another, and their difference to the Graecians when compared to the mass of officers around them.
“Parthians.” Perseus said with quiet disdain at Arthur’s side. “Spies, most likely, trying to infiltrate Hellas through Asfalís.”
“They do not appear to be trying very hard to blend in.” Arthur observed while steeling himself against the surprising urge to intervene against the over-enthusiastic police officers.
Another baton smashed into the ribs of one of the Parthians, and he grimaced in disapproval.
“They likely were smuggled aboard a trade container using Callandium obstruction matrices.” Endymion muttered. “The Parthians have some few skilled psionics. I would not be surprised if one of their so-called Immortals was behind the scheme.” his voice was not disdainful, as much as it was cold—as if he were commenting on the habits of animals, rather than people.
“Parthians have neither honor nor compunction when it comes to such things.” Perseus said as if it were fact. “They would sell their own mothers for benefit if they believed it would get them ahead.”
“This is why we maintain our presence throughout Asfalís.” Endymion said on the heels of Perseus’ words while turning toward Arthur. “We cannot afford more of this filth infesting our home. They are a malcontented, vile, and repugnant people. Slavers and rapists run their nation. They are the opposite of everything Graecia stands for.”
Arthur’s gaze shifted from Endymion and Perseus to the Parthians, and despite their words, he couldn’t help but wonder at the complete veracity of their claims. He did not believe the Kidemónes were overtly lying, but it seemed mildly absurd to him that the Parthians were simply a massive collection of evil, slaving, mustache-twirling psychopaths.
After all, history often warned of the ease by which entire cultures could be vilified.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
How he knew that, however, he wouldn’t have been able to explain. He simply did.
Silence fell over the trio once again when they crossed the street, and Arthur looked away with a frown when the Kidemónes saluted the police officers in approval of their actions. He liked Endymion and Perseus. They were, based on his instincts, genuinely good men with good hearts.
But he could also see where hatred and bias had warped their sense of perspective.
Parthians, to the Kidemónes, weren’t people any more. They were just targets.
It was a very dangerous mindset to encourage, and he had no doubt it was encouraged. Very likely by authorities far, far above his new companions—and with a very specific agenda in mind, as well. It took two nations to agitate tensions, after all, and for all that Graecia claimed to be the subject of Parthian aggression, Arthur wasn’t quite sure that was entirely true.
Not after the unvarnished loathing he’d seen and heard in the course of the day.
By time he managed to fully parse through his thoughts on it all, they were airborne.
Arthur’s eyes widened when the aircar Perseus had commandeered for their shared transport banked across the metropolitan expanse of Asfalís, and offered him his first unobstructed aerial view of the Port. Thoughts of Parthian and Graecian conflict went to the back of his mind, and he simply focused on drinking in the view offered to him by their flight.
Beautiful had been an understatement.
As if in homage to the land from which Graecia had drawn its cultural heritage, Asfalís was seemingly designed as a massive tribute to everything classically Greek. A beautiful man-made river as blue-green as any one might find in the Terran Mediterranean ran through the city.
Its forks and branches were numerous, and the entire construction of the city itself was built in professionally asymmetrical partitions that lended the illusion of a city built around the river, instead of an artificial ecosystem placed within the station interior.
Olive trees and various other traditional Greek flora and fauna were evidenced, and Arthur could even spot large fields of greenery at several locations across the outskirts of the sprawling metropolis where no elevators had been built.
“It’s gorgeous.” he observed appreciatively with his eyes transfixed by the city below.
“Our ancestors came from many places to claim Hellas and create what would become the Ascendancy, but they all agreed that our heritage was the most important thing to keep constant.” Endymion said quietly from beside him. “Wherever we can we honor the souls of our ancient home, we do so. Even here, nearly twelve hundred light years Rimward from the cradle of humanity, the legacy of men like Pericles, Leonidas, Plato, Aristotle, Diogenes, and Alexander live on.”
“It’s a noble aspiration to want to honor the past.” Arthur agreed with a look back to Endymion’s armored head. “This isn’t something I expected to see, honestly. I knew Graecia and the Hyperion cluster were more advanced than most Rim nations, but this level of artisanry is stunning.”
Endymion grunted in acknowledgement. “The Hyperion cluster defies what many consider normal for the Rim, as you said. If only we had been founded earlier, many of the misconceptions and enforced limitations we suffer through might not have been given a chance to take root.”
“Time is often the greatest barrier.” Arthur said with a thoughtful nod.