Philanos walked through the long corridors of the palace, a faint smirk playing on his lips.
He believed he had succeeded.
He had seen it in Isandros's face—the seeds of doubt had been sown. It was only a matter of time before the blind prince would act.
Soon, the crown of Athens would tremble.
But little did Philanos know... they were not alone that day.
In the dark hollow between the pillars, hidden in silence, a spy had listened to every poisonous word he spoke.
That evening, as the torches flickered and the halls fell into uneasy quiet, Philanos made his way back to the guest quarters.
He was halfway through the courtyard when a voice called out behind him.
"Prince Philanos."
Philanos stopped with a frown on his face. He recognized the voice.
Turning around, he saw Chief Minister Menandros standing under the marble archway, arms folded behind his back. The old man's eyes looked sharp like a hawk.
Philanos offered a shallow bow, masking his annoyance. "Chief Minister. What brings you here at this hour? I don't believe we are closely acquainted enough for you to intrude into my room without asking for permission."
Menandros approached slowly, his footsteps steady and measured. "I'm here to tell you that you are leaving Athens, Prince Philanos," he said plainly.
Philanos's fake smile faltered, and the frown returned to his face. "Leaving? But why, my lord?"
The minister's gaze hardened at that. "Because I heard the filth you tried to pour into our prince's ears."
Philanos stiffened.
"Ever since you have arrived here, my men have always been on you, Prince Philanos. At first, I didn't make any attempt because you were the brother-in-law of His Highness, and whatever you did was in the best interests of your sister."
Menandros leaned a bit closer, his eyes turned colder as he continued. "But then, you started spewing venom against the soon-to-be King of this land. I can no longer stay quiet. If I report your treachery to Lord Lycandros, you won't leave this city alive. Iberica will pay heavily for it. So, consider this... a mercy."
Philanos opened his mouth to retort, but one look at the minister's unyielding face made him think better of it.
"You have three days," Menandros continued coldly. "Return to Iberica, Prince Philanos. Before Athens buries you in its soil."
Without waiting for a reply, the chief minister turned and walked away, his cloak billowing behind him.
Philanos stood there, fists clenched, teeth grinding in silent rage. "You damn Athenians… One day… I will return, for sure. The Gods won't abandon my sister."
Three days later, under the guise of urgent family matters, Prince Philanos left Athens. Prince Isandros lost the little kindle of hope he had, but the poison in his heart only grew more toxic.
Under the rule of Magnus, Athens was as stable and peaceful as ever. Everyone is happy, except for Isandros, who neither shows his face in the court nor does he ever talk with his wife. He continued to spend time in isolation, refusing to see Magnus whenever the latter came to meet him.
Little did they know that far away from them, soon, an event was going to occur that would one day shake the foundation of the entire Athens.
***
Sometime later;
In the wilderness of the Kingdom of Scandovnia;
The skies over the hills were a heavy gray, and the cold winds blew mercilessly across the rugged landscape.
At the edge of a great river's stream, its waters rushing toward the cold sea in the north, a cloaked figure stood in sorrow.
Princess Eurydice, adorned in a simple fur cloak, held a small bundle tightly to her chest.
A baby boy, no more than a few months old, slept peacefully in her arms.
His tiny body shimmered faintly, covered by a translucent divine armor that seemed almost otherworldly.
Her maid, an older woman who had served her since childhood, stood anxiously by her side.
"Your Highness," the maid whispered urgently, her breath misting in the cold air, "we must go. Time is not on our side. His Majesty is getting more and more anxious lately."
Eurydice clutched the child closer, her eyes brimming with tears. "I can't," she choked. "How can I abandon him? My son... my Arceus..."
The maid's face hardened as she seized Eurydice's hand.
"You must," she hissed, glancing around the desolate riverbank. "If your father finds out... if the court knows... You will lose everything! Not just your title, but your very right to live among your people. People will shun you. You will lose your dignity."
Eurydice shook her head wildly, her sobs breaking free. "I don't care about titles! He is my child!"
The maid, though her heart ached, remained firm.
"And he will die if you don't do this," she said coldly. "A bastard child born of no marriage has no place in our world. No kingdom will have you. No noble will marry you. You will become a shame to your house, and the boy will suffer a fate worse than death."
Eurydice's knees buckled, but the maid held her up. "Your Highness, you should also think about your father. He doesn't have any sons. He only had you. If he knows this, do you think he will be able to live with his head high? If not for you, do it for your father. You came this way. Just walk a few steps ahead."
Trembling, the young princess eventually walked to the edge of the river.
The basket, woven with lotus flowers, floated gently on the water's edge. She lowered her son carefully into it, placing a soft kiss on his forehead.
The baby stirred, making a soft, innocent coo.
Fresh tears flooded her cheeks as she whispered, "Arceus… Forgive this selfish mother of yours... may the gods protect you where I cannot..."
The maid gripped her shoulder tightly, silently urging her to let go.
With one final cry, Eurydice pushed the basket into the river.
The current caught it almost immediately, and the little golden-armored child began drifting away, carried by the ceaseless flow of the waters.
"Arceus!" "Aaahh!"
Eurydice collapsed into the maid's arms, weeping uncontrollably.
The older woman held her tightly, stroking her hair as she whispered into her ear, "Forget him, my lady... for your own sake, forget him..."
The river carried the child farther and farther away, until he was no more than a speck on the vast, gray waters.
As the basket traveled far enough, following the river stream, the skies suddenly broke apart.
A divine radiance, brighter than any earthly light, poured down from the heavens, invisible to the mortals.
Descending through the glow was a figure—majestic and eternal—the Sun Deity, Helios.
His form burned with the light of a thousand suns, yet where he tread, the earth did not scorch. His golden chariot rested far above, as he stepped down lightly upon the riverbank.
Helios extended his hand toward the fragile basket, and with a mere thought, it floated up to him, untouched by the river currents.
He gazed down at the infant within.
The baby boy blinked sleepily, his tiny form wrapped in a warm aura of golden light, the translucent divine armor glimmering faintly over his skin, like the blessing of a god.
A rare smile curved the lips of the Sun God.
"Apollo..." Helios murmured, his voice deep and resonant, carrying across the river. "You have left an interesting gift upon the earth this time."
He gently lifted the child into his arms.
"This boy is not only mortal," Helios continued, his fiery gaze softening, "but he is touched by divinity... clothed in the armor of your lineage." For a brief moment, Helios turned his eyes toward the sky, as if speaking to the absent Apollo himself.
"Since the world has abandoned you, little one, I shall take you in," he said, cradling the baby closer. "From this moment onward, you are no longer a discarded mortal," Helios declared. "You are Arceus... son of Helios."
The heavens answered with a distant rumble, as if approving the proclamation.
With a sweep of his hand, Helios rose back into the sky, the baby secure in his arms, leaving behind only a soft ripple across the river where the basket had once floated.
Thus, the boy, who was abandoned by a woman, was embraced by a god, turning the wheels of fate in a way that, over time, the entire land of Aachion will be forced to follow along.