The Children // ASSASSINS CREED ODYSSEY // DEIMOS

C11: The Conspiracy

Dolops hadn't remembered their earlier meeting but, like before, he was drunk before noon and this time, once Eos had told him that his mater was now a headless snake – and convinced him that she definitely hadn't risen from the dead in the clothes she'd been torn apart by wolves in – the farmer had welcomed her in to his house and she'd washed up.

After pulling on that trackers cloak that she still hadn't sold yet, Eos had stuffed the snake skinned breastplate in to a bag and, once she'd scrubbed most of the blood off her leather belt and ate some of his food, she'd set off.

If she was reading the letter right, there was a man named Midas, a banker by day and a fire starter by night, situated, at the time, in Argos. She had heard of the cults plans to resurrect Agamemnon and ruin perfectly good history but, it seemed the Gods had no want for his resurrection and they had failed miserably.

And, finding the banker had been so much easier than she thought it would be. Midas was being escorted around Argos with a guard, a pretty laurel leaf crown on his head as he made discrete orders for debts he wanted paid from struggling shop keeps, had private meetings with landlords and inn-keeps that Eos overheard through windows and, generally, just walked around as if he owned the place. Which wouldn't actually surprise Eos at all.

After spending most of the day following him around; that night, Eos had considered going on a little field trip with him but instead, after shoving her dagger through the back of the lonesome guard who'd been stood outside Midas' room at the inn; Eos had dragged the guard inside, sat him on a chair next to the door and allowed herself to rummage through all of his things.

Considering he was only supposed to be spending a 'few days' mopping up the cults messes, he'd got himself quite comfy. The bed looked very much slept in, the bookcases were full of books, some new, some very old; chests had been pushed in to every space possible, notes and letters were scattered all over the desk and, a couple of wine glasses sat on the floor next to the bed.

Eos sat down, swinging her legs up so she could lounge backwards as she inspected Midas' many things.

On the surface, Midas did look to be your typical banker – a very ruthless one, with a lot of notes that seemed to suggest that a lot of business men; and the likes of Argos, Attika and Phokis were in debt to him – but, under that surface, Eos found notes of secret temples, graves and ruins that the worshippers of the bloodline had ransacked, in hope of finding useful information and artefacts to use to the cults advantage.

Midas also had a black cloak and a white mask hiding in the bottom of one of his chests – which – if Eos hadn't been completely sure before, she was now.

Laying them over the back of the chair she sat on so that he wouldn't be able to miss them when he walked in, Eos helped herself to some of his wine and some salted meat he'd obviously been keeping and then, sat down at his desk again, reading over the letter about Sotera and her ships. She was supposedly hiding out at a warehouse in Megaris. What exactly for, she didn't know. T

hese letters were so much older now, would she even be there?

Midas had been but, perhaps the sight he was needing to burn was that little more trickier... or, from the crumpled up letter she found stuffed between two books in a hurry, it didn't seem like the sage was all that happy with how Midas was doing his job. Maybe the banker had decided that those historical artefacts – however ruined – were better made in to money than they were destroyed.

Eos smiled and glanced over at the mask.

The cults eyes saw all. That was their motto.

It didn't take long for Midas to come home that night. His arm was wrapped around his latest conquest, a young girl, whispering sweet words in to her ear as he pushed open the door. The guard Eos had sat on the chair slithered on to the floor, the trail of piling blood making the young girl scream and Midas jump, smacking the poor girl in the mouth.