Protogenos

Chapter 15: Vassals

Chapter 15

Vassals

"The seal on the blade. The mark of the Archon..."

The fire crackled gently, its amber light flickering across Perseus's features, casting sharp shadows along his jawline. His expression was carved in stone, eyes fixed on the dancing flames as if searching for answers within their chaos.

The air around him was still heavy with the weight of unspoken thoughts. Zoë sat nearby, her knees drawn up, her hands resting lightly atop them. Her gaze lingered on Perseus, her dark eyes searching his face for a hint of his inner thoughts, but he remained inscrutable.

Prometheus stood a short distance away, his tall frame silhouetted against the towering trees that encircled their camp. His arms were crossed, his expression pensive as though each crackle of the fire was a whisper of the revelations he had unearthed.

The night around them was unnaturally quiet, as if the forest itself held its breath, listening to the words that had yet to be spoken. "Your Grace—"

"Tell me what it doth mean; what they seek—what she desireth." The god's tone was measured, but there was an edge to it—a demand for answers.

Prometheus stepped closer to the fire, the flames catching the sharp lines of his face. He bent slightly, his fingers brushing against the blade resting at Perseus's side.

"'Tis," he said, tracing the spiraling sigil etched into the celestial bronze, "the sigil of Order's fealty."

He glanced up at Perseus, his brow furrowed deeply. "'Tis the mark of those who serve beneath her light."

"Serve beneath her light?" Zoë tilted her head, her dark braid slipping over her shoulder. "What doth that signify?"

The Titan of Foresight straightened, his face grim. "The devote. The faithful. 'They who doth good.' The swords of the virtuous."

"The Acolytes of Light".

The name hung in the air like a blade poised to strike. Zoë's brow furrowed as she repeated it, the words foreign yet heavy with meaning. "Acolytes of Light?"

"They art more than a mere alliance, Your Grace," Prometheus explained, his tone darkening. "'Tis an empire. Gods, Titans, monsters, even mortals—all march beneath their banner. Olympus doth serve them, with Zeus and Hera guiding the flock. Outcast Titans, such as Selene, lend their strength to its cause. Monsters like Echidna and her brood are forced into service."

"And mortals..." His voice dipped, laced with disdain. "Entire kingdoms hast been consumed."

Zoë's expression darkened as she absorbed his words. "Consumed? In what manner?"

Prometheus turned his gaze to her, his expression somber. "Naxos standeth as the clearest example," he said. "The Acolytes hast wrought it into a stronghold of their doctrine. Mortals revere the light as divine and uphold its will with cruelty and fervent zeal."

"Torture..."

"Rape..."

"Murder." He watched as her eyes sunk back with each description.

To him, this was common knowledge, but to her, she was a recently escaped bird from her cage. She was far too innocent and inexperienced to fly away from them just yet.

"Slavery doth flourish beneath their rule, and their grasp spreadeth unchecked. To the untrained eye, it seemeth a paradise—streets kept clean, harvests plentiful, and folk devout in their piety. Yet beneath the surface doth rot fester. The people remain blind to the price of their prosperity." The titan finished.