A man sat on a golden curule seat with a purple cushion. He had brown hair and a thick beard. On his body was a white toga with a single line of purple running down it. The man's silver eyes contained an incredible amount of wisdom, and there was a kind expression on his face.

At his feet was a woman with long hair. She whispered a prayer to the man before her. He nodded patiently with a warm smile. When the woman was finished, she stood up with hope on her face.

"I will ensure your prayer gets to Stantinius, Barbara," the man said. "It is ideal for him."

"Thank you, despotēs," she smiled.

"There's no need for that. I'm no longer an emperor. And even if I am a god, I am but a philosopher and messenger now. Call me Marcus," he replied.

"Then thank you, Marcus."

The woman bowed and walked away. Demetrius walked over next. He knelt before the man.

"It is good to see you again, Demetrius," the Golden Philosopher Basileus said.

"Same to you," the boy replied. "It seems we have a few provincials here today."

"Yes. I hope you remember to not ask what they're praying for. Prayers are between gods and mortals, not mortals and mortals."

"I remember," Demetrius assured him.

Marcus nodded.

"Good. Now, let's get to your prayer. We can't keep everyone else waiting for too long," he said.

Demetrius whispered so silently that you would need supernatural hearing to hear him.

"I pray that one day, I will be brutally tortured to death. I pray that I receive the worst punishment the gods can give me for insulting my fellow Remens, for disparaging the brave soldiers who fight for the Remen Empire, for making people around me hate and fear me."

When he stood up, there was a look of sympathy on Marcus' face. Demetrius cringed. He hated that look.

"You always say the same prayer, Demetrius, and I will tell you what I always have. The gods will not grant your prayer. You are doing what you have to, even if it is unpleasant. And you have not gone as far as others have," Marcus said.

"Then I pray for the prosperity of the Remen Empire," Demetrius turned away. "I will sacrifice a goat to you when I return."

He stormed off in a huff.

Ganzaya approached Marcus with awe on his face. The Ulv knelt before the deity.

"You...you are a god, right?" Ganzaya asked.

"I am," Marcus answered.

The Golden Philosopher Basileus waved his hand in the air. A glass of wine appeared in it. Then, the glass turned into a flock of birds that flew into the air. Transformations like this were beyond the power of even the greatest mortal spellcasters.

"And you are Ganzaya," Marcus said. "The greatest warrior of the Ulvs."

"How did you...how did you know?"

"I watch the Stratigos of the Remen Empire whenever I can. Well, whenever it wouldn't invade their privacy. But we can't keep everyone waiting. You serve the Remen Empire, even if it is just as a mercenary, so I will hear your prayer."

Ganzaya whispered.

"All I want is to save my wife from slavery," he said.

Marcus nodded. Then, he uttered a whisper that was inaudible yet somehow heard by Ganzaya.

"I will do what I can. The goddess of fate has already pulled her strings, and she is stubborn. I will say that you will see your wife again. Whether or not you can save her, I am uncertain."

Ganzaya stood up, fresh hope flowing through him.

"Thank you," he said.

The Ulv fast walked out to catch up with Demetrius. Countless emotions flowed through his mind as he walked alongside his employer.

"I can't believe I met a god," Ganzaya stated. "Is this common in the Remen Empire?"

"No. It's fairly rare. Marcus is the only god that I know who lives openly among mortals. I'd say, aside from him, you're just as likely to meet a god as you are anywhere else," Demetrius said.

"Still, you have a god living in your capital city! This really is amazing! I can see why people speak so highly of Kostaspolis."

"It is the greatest city in the world. Now, let's pick up the pace. We're almost at my house."

Demetrius and Ganzaya came to a section of Kostaspolis that had very different houses than the rest. Most of them were one or two stories tall rather than multi-stories. Each residence was surrounded by a wall that contained a courtyard before leading to the home proper.

The Stratigos stopped at one of those places and walked inside. Ganzaya followed him. A man in servant's clothes approached them the moment they stepped inside.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"Welcome back, despotēs," he addressed Demetrius. "Did you have a good trip?"

This man smiled in a way that made it clear to Ganzaya that he was not happy to see Demetrius.

"As good as it could be. Tell our finance manager that I'll need to talk to him later," the Stratigos kept walking as he talked.

"Of course, despotēs," the servant replied before leaving.

Demetrius and Ganzaya walked through the courtyard. The floor was a grand mosaic of numerous shades of blue and a few shades of orange. Patterns like rings as well as stars covered the area.

Several parts of the courtyard were not covered by stone. They were filled with foliage like bushes and trees. In the center of the entire area was a large fountain. It was made in the shape of a warrior with water coming out of the tip of his spear.

The house ahead of them had an overhang. It was held up by a set of stone pillars. Ganzaya and Demetrius walked under them into the building proper.

Looking around, Ganzaya noted that the floor and walls were covered in mosaics. The walls had images of numerous people on them. A few of them wore purple clothes, but most of them were clad in various other colors.

"Purple is an expensive color," Ganzaya recalled. "Even Khans rarely have more than a purple sash."

"It's rare in the Remen Empire for more reasons than that. Purple is the color of the Basileus. Only the royal family is allowed to wear it," Demetrius said.

"Then the men in purple in these images are Basileus?"

"Yes. Every single one of them."

Ganzaya looked at the floor. The mosaics on it were images of dolphins leaping through the ocean. Occasionally, a few ships were depicted. But it was dolphins for the most part.

Demetrius walked into a room. Ganzaya broke from his amazement to follow the Stratigos. They found themselves in a place with numerous chairs and a table, all carved out of fine wood.

A man leaned on the table. He was dressed in fine robes of blue and red. On his chest was a set of precious gems. Yet, there was a glazed look in his eyes.

This person looked a lot like Demetrius. He was taller, had gray strands in his hair, had a worn-out face, and was more muscular. But aside from that, the two were very much alike.

"Father, I've returned, at least for a short time," Demetrius said with sadness on his face.

The man took a swig of wine. It wasn't from a cup in his hands but from a large antique amphora that must have been hundreds of years old. He drank deeply before speaking.

"Demetrius...I'm glad to see you here," the man said. "Do you want a drink?"

"I don't drink, Father," Demetrius replied.

"You'll drink someday, Demetrius. Or destroy yourself in some other way. That is the curse of the Kallergis, the cost of our power, and the price of our duty."

"I know, Father," the Stratigos replied. "You don't have to lecture me again."

"But I will fight it as long as I can, even if I deserve to destroy myself," Demetrius thought.

With a nod, the man took a massive gulp of the wine.

"Ganzaya, this is my Father, Vasileios Kallergis. Address him as despotēs, just as you do with me," Demetrius said.

The Ulv gave Vasileios a bow.

"I am honored to meet you, despotēs. I am Stratigos Demetrius' hired mercenary," Ganzaya stated.

"He will rest in our house while we're in Kostaspolis, but he'll spend most of his time wandering the city," Demetrius explained.

Vasileios nodded, never looking away from his drink.

"Your mercenary can stay in the servant's quarters. Is he a magician?" he said.

"No," Demetrius replied. "But I figured that it would be useful to have someone watch my back, just in case I'm caught off guard. I'm still a weak magician, after all."

"I might as well say it. If Ganzaya doesn't know, he'll figure it out sooner or later," the Stratigos thought.

Ganzaya recalled that Theodora had told him this before, but this was an even bigger confirmation. Demetrius himself had admitted that he was weak. This made the Ulv shiver to think about how powerful spellcasters could get.

"You're an adult. Do what you want," Vasileios shrugged.

He then took another deep swig of alcohol. Demetrius walked away, a dark pall over him. Ganzaya followed.

"Was your father always like this? And what did he mean by 'the fate of us all?'" the Ulv asked.

"Shut up," Demetrius said.

Ganzaya blinked in shock, but he quickly composed himself.

"Your superior is never wrong. Whether that's a khan, a lord, or whoever hired you," the Ulv thought.

"I apologize, despotēs. This must be a sore spot for you," he stated, taking a quick bow.

"Don't apologize, barbarian. There's no fault on your end," Demetrius spoke before thinking. "I don't deserve an apology. I should apologize to him, but...no. I can't afford to make my dark magic weaker. I need to make more people hate me, then apologize."

The Stratigos clenched his fists so hard they turned white. He stopped in his tracks and looked down. Rage and frustration poured into the boy's body.

"He's been like this since Mother died," Demetrius said.

Ganzaya opened his mouth to speak but hesitated.

"Go on. I'm sure you're curious," the Stratigos stated. "In fact, I order you to ask."

With a nod, the Ulv continued.

"When did she die?" Ganzaya asked.

"A month after I was born," Demetrius answered.

"And...how did she die?"

"Of a broken heart," the Stratigos said.

Demetrius continued walking. Meanwhile, Ganzaya felt a pang of sympathy flow through him.

"I know enough about this region to know that talking about suicide is taboo here. Dying of a broken heart means dying of a broken neck," the Ulv thought.

Ganzaya decided to not press the issue further. The two kept moving on. Then, when they turned a corner, Demetrius stopped in his tracks once more.

In front of the Stratigos was a girl. She had the same black hair that Demetrius did. Her eyes were like emeralds set in her head, but they were cold as they gazed at the Stratigos.

This girl's clothes were far simpler than any that Ganzaya had seen in Kostaspolis. They consisted of black robes and a pointed black hat.

Demetrius gave the girl a smile. His expression was warm and genuine as if he had forgotten all about the dark topic he talked about a moment before. Still, his right eye gave a single twitch.

"It's good to see you again, Adriadne," he said.

"Oh, you're back," the girl's voice was ice. "How long until your next trip?"

"That is Basil's decision."

"I see," Adriadne spoke.

"Have your studies been going well?" Demetrius asked.

"That's none of your business," she answered.

Adriadne then looked at Ganzaya.

"Who is this?" the girl asked.

"This is a barbarian I hired as a mercenary. His name is Ganzaya," Demetrius answered.

"I see," Adriadne walked past Demetrius before stopping.

She turned back to him with a huff.

"Talk to Basil as soon as you can. I want to get going soon," the girl stated.

Adriadne walked away.

"What did she mean by that?" Demetrius thought.

"Was that your wife?" Ganzaya wondered.

"My half-sister, Adriadne," the Stratigos explained, his eyes turning sad. "She hates me."

"Was she born before or after..."

Ganzaya stopped himself before he could finish speaking.

"Adriadne was conceived a few days after my mother's death," Demetrius felt a mixture of sorrow and bitterness flow through him. "Her mother is an actress, and Father didn't even know she existed until she was nine."

"At least she had a decent life. I heard actresses can be very wealthy," Ganzaya tried to comfort the boy.

Demetrius scoffed.

"Maybe elsewhere, but not in the Remen Empire. Here, the difference between actresses and prostitutes is that not all prostitutes are actresses but all actresses are prostitutes," the Stratigos said.

Demetrius then kept moving, going to the part of his house where his family dealt with their finances.