Chapter Four

Hermes stepped out of the anchor of Sparta with the crackle of ethereal essence about him. The god was immediately greeted by a dark-skinned, dark-haired high priestess in the raiments of a temple pontifex, accompanied by eight sentinels of the temple guard. The priestess' hands were clasped together, and her expression was not the least fazed to see the messenger's arrival in the late hour.

 "Were you expecting me?"

 "We were, my prince," said the pontifex.

 Hermes' frequent travels had allowed him to meet this woman before, though he was less familiar with her than many other Templars due to his preference to keep his distance from Sparta.

 The pontifex's name was Jocasta. She was the eleventh or twelfth Elysian reincarnation of the ancient queen from the Faith's Myth. In this life, Jocasta was a native Spartan. Born into a house of luxury, Jocasta had forsaken it to enter into the service of the Faith. She cut her teeth as a sentinel and chaplain before taking on the role of a templar. With a fierce scar across her otherwise beautiful face and a soldier's gladius sheathed on her side, it was not easy to forget that this pontifex had seen her share of bloodshed on the battlefield.

 "Holy Jocasta," Hermes said, addressing the pontifex by name and proper epithetical title for her station. "May I inquire as to the need for the armed guard?"

 "Due to recent events, caution is an unfortunate necessity," said Jocasta.

 "Might I ask the nature of these recent events?" Hermes asked, wondering if Jocasta was aware of the border incident with Athens.

 "We have had some Broken Book attacks in Mars' Stand as of late," said the scarred pontifex, one hand resting on her belt-strapped weapon's hilt.

 Hermes glanced away from Jocasta. His focus fell to one of the guards standing off to his side. The templar was positioned to flank the god. With keen eyes, the god took notice of the armament of the temple guardian and realized it was far from standard issue.

 "Are we arming our soldiers with adamant blades to fight heretics?"

 Jocasta shot a sudden glare at the guard whose weapon was raised slightly from its sheath. Once the weapon was released to fall back into its sheath, Jocasta let out a long sigh. "My apologies, Mercury. The weapons are not intended for you... merely a precaution against a visit from your older sister."

 Hermes had never cared for the Spartan preference of addressing the gods by their imperial names, but there was no point in vocalizing his displeasure. Instead, he took a deliberate step forward. "To bare a blade against any Divinity is tantamount to suicide; adamant blades or not. Surely a pontifex is aware that adamant can cut a monster or a god as easily as a mortal, but killing a god is not an easy task... even with adamant. Believe me."

 "We would never seek to expire any deity, my prince," said Jocasta. "That is an unspeakable violation against the Faith. But, as I said, it is a precaution... and one we could not refuse."

 "A Commandment then?" Hermes asked, reading between the lines. All mortals were expected to adhere to the demands of any deity, but the clergy themselves were bound to do by sacred oath and could face immediate smiting for refusal, a practice often exercised by Hermes' militant half-brother Ares. "Very well... but I hereby warn you that if another of these sentinels wishes to bare adamant in my presence again, it be the last thing they do in this life... or any other lives. I will personally escort their soul into the depths of the dark prison below and put them in farthest reaches where even Hades could not find them."

 Jocasta nodded, agreeing to Hermes' terms.

 "You can consider that a Commandment as well," Hermes said, glaring at the flanking sentinel as he pointed the end of his caduceus at him.

 "We understand, wise Mercury," said Jocasta. "You truly are the thrice-wise. Is there something that we can do for the messenger of our Divine King Jupiter?"

 The messenger lowered his sacred scepter and tipped his bowler's hat onto the back of his head. Then, cracking a grin, Hermes' eyes scanned the depths of Jocasta's own. "Take me to my brother."

 "Very well," said the pontifex. "Which divine sibling of yours have you come to see?"

 The question actually caught Hermes off-guard for a moment. He had forgotten that Hephaestus was currently living in the temple in Mars' Stand with Ares. With a moment taken to consider paying a visit to Hephaestus, Hermes decided to focus on his mission. "Take me to Ares."

 "As you wish," Jocasta said, taking only a single guard with her and the visiting messenger. The rest of the sentinels remained on guard detail at the anchor.

 Hermes glanced at the sacred twelve columns common to every temple in the Spartan grand foyer. The Spartans' columns were cold iron pillars forged from the crudely welded remains of blades, shields, spears, and even more modern armaments, resulting in a fierce-looking piece of military art that could literally hurt if you got too close.

 The alcoves surrounding the foyer featured shrines of the principal gods, all featuring some military-minded sculptures of the divine figures, all given a decidedly Roman slant on their attire, pose, and expression. Even at this odd hour, there was a Spartan praying at the shrine of Mercury as they passed behind him. The irony that the worshipper was mere feet from the deity's aid he was seeking did not escape Hermes, bringing a smirk to the god's lips.

 "So, I take it that since you were expecting Athena to crash your welcome party, you are aware of the airship incident?" Hermes thought to ask, now given some space for the larger group of sentinels.

 Jocasta was not pleased with Hermes' inquiry. "You cannot speak of what you are about to hear, sworn brother," the pontifex reminded the sentinel. "Understood?"

 "As you command, Holy Jocasta."

 Nodding, Jocasta shifted her gaze to the god walking at her side. "I have been asked to not speak on this matter, your grace. Perhaps it would be better to discuss this with your brother?"

 Hermes scoffed. "I'd rather not speak to my brother at all..." he glanced at Jocasta, assessing her reaction. She was not pleased. "Besides, I insist."

 Furrowing her brow, Jocasta nodded. "So be it. I have heard that Minerva sent a warship into the sovereign skies of Sparta."

 Hermes smirked. "Was this a rumor or were you briefed on this matter?"

 "Few things happen in Sparta without the pontifex hearing of it."

 "That is avoiding my question," Hermes said sternly.

 "I was briefed," Jocasta said with a long sigh.

 "By my brother?"

 "No," she clarified. "By the High General."

 "One of the Triumvirate? Really?" asked Hermes, raising an eyebrow. Most nations in Elysium were ruled by a king, and few had democracies, but Sparta was unique in preserving its tribal roots, having an Imperial Council of Elders consisting of a High General, Speaker of the Masses, and the Guild Taskmaster. "So why is the Empire singing a different song to Athens?"

 "I cannot speak on political decisions," said Jocasta. "I am a humble servant of the Faith."

 "You're a servant, true..." said Hermes, "but even I would be hard-pressed to convince an imbecile that you were humble, Jocasta."

 "Excuse me?"

 Hermes gave her a glance as he smirked. "Do you call me a liar?"

 Jocasta frowned, her scarred brow furrowed. "No. Of course not."

 "You should," Hermes chuckled. "I'm the God of Thieves and Liars. Surely the pontifex would be aware of this."

 Jocasta picked up her pace for the last few steps before stopping abruptly at the door with two sentinels at either side. "Here we are, your grace."

 Hermes was on the third floor of the temple. This is where he found the Sanctuary of the Divine, residences prepared for the divine alone to use. Deciding he had tormented the pontifex enough, Hermes let her remain quiet and let himself in.

 Once inside, Hermes quickly waved the sentinels standing in the foyer of the temple apartment away. There was a long moment of hesitation before the guards finally obeyed, but Jocasta remained standing in the doorway as Hermes wandered into the luxury apartment. It only took him moments to assess he had not been led to Ares' residence; there was a decidedly feminine décor inside.

 "Whose apartment is this?" he asked of the pontifex lingering in the doorway.

 "The beautiful Venus dwells in here," Jocasta stated.

 "And you brought me here because?"

 "You asked to see Mars. This is where you'll find the Divine Warrior."

 Hermes nodded, but he could not bear to grin. The affair between Ares and Aphrodite was nothing new. It had been going, off and on, since before he could be bothered to remember. Though the goddess of love was married to Hephaestus, mortals far and wide knew that her most frequent sexual partner was Ares. Hermes assumed he had probably lain with the sensual goddess more than her lawful husband.

 "Something the matter, your grace?"

 "I... I had not intended to see Aphrodite on this visit," Hermes told the pontifex candidly.

 "The Divine Lover spends most of her days in Mars' Stand as of late," Jocasta explained. "Would you like me to summon them?"

 Having wandered a reasonable distance into the apartment, Hermes could hear the rutting grunts originating from the bedroom adjoining the parlor. "No... I'll wait," Hermes said, wandering to a nearby liquor cabinet and beginning to help himself.

 "Shall I wait with you?"

 "You are released," Hermes said with a smirk, only looking at the priestess from the corner of his eye. "Close the door," he added as the pontifex turned to leave.

 Once left alone, Hermes settled his weight across a divan of Spartan make. As he sipped at his glass of thratch, his eyes studied the amber liquid's interaction with the cubes of ice in his drink. Pulling the glass away from his lips, Hermes closed his eyes. The god let the expensive taste swish about his mouth, soaking his tongue. Once satisfied, Hermes allowed himself a slow swallow, with a satisfied gasp escaping his lips.

 The taste of the Thracian beverage summoned a distant memory from the depths of his mind. It was a sticky and hot memory but filled with pleasure. A warm desert breeze blew through an open window as the room's occupants entwined their bodies on the baked mud floor. Their ravaging bodies rolled about, knocking over the half-drank bottle of thratch they had been drinking minutes before. The two giggled as Hermes grabbed the bottle and poured what was left of it onto his partner's heaving chest before sloppily slurping it up seconds later, not wanting to waste good thratch.

 "Good drink, good memory," Hermes said to himself as he raised his glass for a second drink. As he tried to remember the town's name that memory originated from, the bedroom door opened.

 The god glanced at the figure in the doorway as he raised his glass to the familiar face. "Hello, Ares," Hermes said before putting the liquid to his lips and sipping gently.

 The God of War was naked as the day he was born. His godhood was out there in all its glory, swaying about as he shamelessly approached his brother. His scarred muscles did not tense, and his expression was not threatening, though it was difficult to discern what else it could be. "Hermes!" shouted the sweaty god, coming to an abrupt stop in the middle of the parlor. His arms thrown out, back arched, and hips thrust forward. "What brings you to Mars' Stand? A message from our father?"

 "In a manner," said Hermes after swallowing his sample of thratch.

 "Great," said Ares as he stepped to the bar where Hermes had set his satchel to rest. Ares opened the flap and found only confusion and disappointment. "I don't understand. Where is it?"

 Resting his glass and arm across the back of the divan, Hermes' other hand was raised to his eye level, where he waggled a pair of fingers. "Right here, brother."

 "Explain."

 "I'm the message," Hermes said with a wry grin.

 Ares was a lean figure, contrary to the imaginations of many mortals that saw him as a barrel-chested mountain of a god. No, he was athletically toned but had a certain lankiness to him. His skin bore dozens of scars, reminders of his ancient duel with Kronos, the Titan King. Though Ares had his mother's brunette hair, he was fond of dying his close-cut hair blonde to help accentuate his father's features.

 "I don't understand," said Ares, his red eyes perplexed. His scarred face continued to express his absolute confusion.

 "Nothing surprising there," said Hermes, his eyebrows popping up before quickly relaxing. He poured what remained in his glass down his throat with a deft motion and then set the glass aside on a finely made end table. The messenger put his feet under him with a long sigh and let out a chuckle. "Our father has sent me as his herald."

 Ares raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

 Hermes did not dignify that question with a response other than a long, awkward glare.

 It did not take Ares much longer to let out his own sigh, followed by a nod. "You're here about the airship?"

 "Aye."

 "So Athena sent you," Ares began, his expression quickly souring, "by way of father..."

 "Not my place to say who may or may not have father's ear," Hermes said as he snatched up his caduceus from where he had propped it against the bar. While gripping the scepter, Hermes then perched his rear on an ornate stool at the corner of the parlor. "Now about this airship..."

 Ares took in a deep breath. His expression made it clear he was not interested in having this conversation. "Later then, I must get dressed. We will discuss this in my war room."

 "Very well," said Hermes with a nod, "but clothing only, though... no armor or weapons. I'm not here to fight..."

 Hermes was not bothered by his brother's nakedness. Modesty was for mortals. Even though it was clear to the messenger god that Ares was stalling, Hermes would rather have this conversation with a fully clothed god and not one dripping in post-intimate sweat.

 While Ares ducked back into the bedroom, Hermes saw Aphrodite leaning against the wall next to the doorway, a towel tossed over her bare shoulder. The Goddess of Love had shoulder-length dusty blonde hair with Corinthian streaks of pink dyed in to emphasize her pink eyes. She was as naked as Ares was moments ago, but Hermes would never dream of asking her to remedy that.

 "Do you have a message for me as well?" she asked with her sultry voice.

 Hermes smirked and said nothing.

 "Sad business this," Aphrodite said, sauntering across the room toward the liquor cabinet. Periodically, her eyes would shift from her destination to Hermes, clearly assessing Hermes' interest in her body's curves as she crossed the room. "This matter with the airship," Aphrodite clarified as she arrived and began to pour herself a glass from the same bottle of thratch. The goddess raised the bottle as her eyebrow raised, indicating a silent request to top off his own glass.

 Hermes had difficulty resisting the goddess, and he consented with a quick nod, pointing to where he had left his glass. "What are your thoughts?"

 "I think..." she began as she carried the bottle to where Hermes' glass was left. She grabbed the glass with one hand and held it at chest level as she poured the drink, drawing Hermes' gaze to her torso's most remarkable assets. Only when she caught Hermes staring did she bother to continue. "I think this matter does not concern me. You know how little I care for politics."

 Hermes raised an eyebrow. "Odd thing for a patron goddess to say," he said with a smirk, referencing her position among the Corinthians.

 Aphrodite giggled. She set down the thratch bottle and delivered the glass to the messenger, leaning in to collect her price of a passionate kiss from Hermes before surrendering the drink. It was a price that Hermes considered to be more than fair trade.

 Aphrodite could extract thoughts, memories, or even secrets from bodily contact with others. Her touch could give her insight into a mortal's emotions while her kiss was enough to read your mind, and total intimacy would allow her complete access into even a god's deepest, darkest secrets... well, almost any god.

 Hermes' mind was shielded by the essence of deception and thievery that mingled with his ichor inside his veins. As a result, no god or mortal could expose his lies or expose his thoughts. Yet, with both deities aware of this, their relationship enjoyed a sense of mystery.

 The actual kiss soured quickly as it took not more than a mere moment for Hermes to realize a hidden cost. As Aphrodite pulled back from the kiss and turned to retrace her steps to collect her own drink, Hermes let his eyes study her backside as he used a generous helping of thratch to wash the residual taste of Ares' sweat off his lips.

 "I lead by way of inspiring," Aphrodite said as she sauntered back, not sipping from her glass until she stood in arms' reach of Hermes, looking down on his perch on the corner stool. "I leave the politics and such trivial matters to those who enjoy such things."

 "I notice that you avoided my question."

 "Did I?" she asked with a slight giggle before sipping her drink. "Oh," she let out a long sigh before she continued, "you know what this drink reminds me of? That time in Ambon. Do you remember that?"

 Hermes raised an eyebrow as he wondered if she had somehow stolen his idle thought about their last time together drinking thratch. Could it have been a coincidence?

 Hermes did not have time for these games that Aphrodite liked to play. The Divine Lover may as well have been called the Divine Tease. Looking at her, Hermes was tempted to go down on her atop the divan, regardless of Ares' proximity. Hermes was not alone in how he felt. That was the effect Aphrodite had on people and gods alike.

 Letting out a long sigh, Hermes turned his attention to his surroundings. Pretty a typical temple residence, but being in Sparta, the apartment had weapons mounted on the walls, paintings depicting famous battles, and busts of famous generals and gladiators. Of course, the furniture was the most expensive and luxurious sort from the local towns and cities, reflecting Sparta's best.

 The best Sparta had to offer? The thought turned the messenger's thoughts and gaze back to the disrobed deity. Hermes sighed in disappointment with himself. That is when he finally noticed the towel resting on her shoulder this whole time.

 "Taking a bath?"

 "I was thinking of it," she confessed. "Care to join me?"

 Though sorely tempted, Hermes bit his lip and shook his head. "Ares and I have business to discuss in the war room."

 "You can discuss it in the bath chamber with me," Aphrodite said with a wicked grin. "It's been a while since I had the attention of two Olympians... almost two weeks."

 Hermes did not respond to her offer as Ares walked in wearing a wool shirt, suspenders, and a simple pair of riding trousers and boots. The warrior god strutted up to where the other two were and announced his presence by slapping Aphrodite's backside. "Are you ready, brother?"

 Hermes stood up, twirling his scepter about with skilled deftness. "Lead the way," he said, trying not to make eye contact with Aphrodite but ultimately failing to do so.

 Aphrodite sauntered between the brothers as she finished her drink and deposited the glass into Ares' hand. "Have fun then, boys. You know where to find me, should you change your mind," she said to Hermes, looking over her shoulder to give him a playful wink.

 The brothers watched her exit the parlor and walk across the entire apartment to the door to the main corridor, where she departed, leaving the door ajar. Once the goddess was out of sight, Hermes and Ares both cleared their throats, looking at each other in silence.

 Several minutes and a short walk through the temple corridors later, Ares opened the large, heavy door of a room in the temple's basement. Ares snapped his fingers inside, and essence lamps lit up the room with a faint red glow. In the lit chamber was a large orichalcum table forged in the geographic likeness of Elysium, which had flickers of essence coming off of it to indicate places of military significance like fortresses, citadels, cities, fleets, and so forth.

 Hermes had heard tales of this contraption, but this was the first time he laid eyes upon it. It was clearly the work of Hephaestus; that much was clear. As Ares gave the messenger god a moment to take in the room, Hermes wandered close enough to eye the border between Sparta and Athens on the table's top.

 "Quite the sight, isn't it?"

 Hermes glanced over his shoulder to Ares. "Reminds me of father's Chartis Kosmos," he said, running his hand over the table's surface, letting his fingertips disrupt essence patterns before watching them reconstitute their previous projected forms.

 "Athena has nothing like this, I bet!" Ares said, unable to restrain the urge to brag.

 As this chamber's walls were decorated in racks of weaponry, Hermes was not sure he wanted to risk inciting his brother to anger, so he put on an effortless grin and nodded in silence. Once Ares seemed pleased with that answer, Hermes perched his hands against the end of the table and looked over the borderlands. "Now... about this airship."

 "What about it?" asked Ares, folding his arms and furrowing his brow.

 "Tell me what happened."

 "Athena violated our airspace."

 Hermes let out a long sigh. "Were they flying above the clouds or under?"

 Ares scoffed. "Don't know. Don't care."

 Raising an eyebrow, Hermes adjusted his vest. "That's an important matter, brother. While nations can claim the lands from terra firma to the clouds, anything higher than the clouds can belong to Zeus alone."

 "I am aware of father's decree, brother," Ares said gruffly. "I am unaware of the ship's height when the Spartan forces shot it down. I was not there."

 "Fair," Hermes said with a nod. "Why did Sparta shoot the aerial craft out of the sky? Do you at least know that much?"

 Ares nodded as a crazed smile crossed his lips. "I do, but you won't believe me."

 "Try me," said Hermes, narrowing his eyes as he studied his brother's expressions.

 "I know you and Athena have a long history, brother," Ares said, still maintaining his unsettling smile. Athena and Hermes were often dispatched on vital missions at their father's command. That was no secret. It was common knowledge, but Ares' smile suggested he felt like this was some state secret he had unearthed. "I know you're not going to believe me. Even if it were the truth."

 "I know a thing or two about lying," Hermes said, resting his scepter on the table behind him. "I'm also pretty good at telling when someone's giving me a false bill of sale."

 Ares still appeared unbalanced, but he slowly nodded. "So be it... Athens attacked the towns of Pavor and Metus," he said as he approached the table to press his finger to the surface and place an essence flicker at each location. "As you can see, strategic locations on either side of the Leonidas Pass," he said, tracing his finger across the mountain pass that separated them.

 "Athens attacked the Spartans without provocation?" asked Hermes, squinting his eyes as he assessed what he had just heard. He didn't get the ping of essence that he had been expecting. He paused, then scoffed. "You're a much better liar than I remember," Hermes said with a snarky grin.

 Ares was not pleased with the comment. "I'm not lying."

 "Why would Athens attack you?" asked Hermes. "Why there?"

 "Clearing a path for an invasion!" Ares said, slamming his fist onto the table's top, causing a ripple of essence to surge across the miniature world.

 Hermes kept his composure, pointing to the location of these supposedly targeted townships. "The Leonidas Pass would be an ideal invasion path, if you expected Artemis and her Silver Wardens marching in from the the Arcadian wilds!"

 Scowling, Ares shook his head. "An invading force could land here by boat," he said, touching the map, "at Perseus' Landing."

 Hermes chuckled.

 "Something funny, brother?"

 "Perseus' Landing is a notoriously rocky beach," said Hermes, having become a master of Elysium's geography due to his having explored nearly all of it in his duties. "Athenian and Spartan ships could not navigate it."

 "Perseus the Second did," Ares said with a growl. "Over a thousand years ago! The ships we have now are-"

 "One ship navigated by a heroic helmsman is different than an entire fleet orchestrating a nautical landing," Hermes said with a subdued chuckle. "Regardless of the era. Seriously, brother... You know this."

 "I am telling you the truth!" Ares roared. "Athens attacked us! Athena attacked me!"

 Hermes took an impulsive step back. "Fine... Prove it."

 A sadistic grin crossed the scarred face of Ares. "So be it..."

## Characters

### Gods

* Hermes
* Ares
* Aphrodite