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The tension builds, as you stare at the three deceivers; in the distance, the burning oak, once as mighty and immortal as Argos itself, begins to creak and pop as the conflagration begins to tear it apart. Koximos and Charrados lie in close proximity upon the field grasses, trading murderous glances at once another and at you. Iladros chokes upon your left hand, as you continue to hold him aloft – his long brown hair is wild, unbound and filthy, his scraggly beard pathetic. None of the three speak – not at first. Iladros’ face develops into an ugly shade of purple as he attempts to squawk for mercy. His eyes are round coins; his face nearly black in the red torchlight of the burning oak.
Koximos is motionless against the grass of the field, but Charrados is still begging fruitlessly - you nod at him and say:
“End this <span class="mu-i">charade</span>, boy, and you will live through the night.”
Charrados’ pleading stops at once, and he stares at you with bottomless rage, as he cradles his ruined ankle; Koximos blankly looks up at you as if seeing you for the first time. You say nothing, but heft your spear in your right hand, and bring the jagged edge of the point to Koximos’ throat. He confesses at once, desperate words tumbling forth:
“The names we gave are not r-real, Lord. All i-invented – but we are a f-family, it is true. We are simple bakers from Pylos, not masons… The plans we spoke of do not exist; we know nothing of Thebes. These c-cursed b-boys; they murdered my eldest son!” He can barely speak through his rage; it is volcanic, uncontrollable, genuine – you would bet your life that he speaks the truth now.
Charrados interjects –
“Because he helped you murder our mother, you vile bastard! I’LL KILL YOU!” and he flops towards his father, half-hopping, half-rolling. His hands claw the empty air, attempting to strangle his father from afar - with a casual kick to his side, you send him sprawling with bruised ribs. You return your attentions to Koximos, but to your surprise, Charrados is quickly back on his feet – he makes an ungainly charge at you, producing a small knife from some hidden location.
Your lips curl in distaste as you pluck out his heart with your spear – he has earned this death many times over.
Koximos blanches – his face bone-white. You hear a strange noise - Iladros is pissing himself in terror; small flecks of urine sprinkling over your sandaled feet. You toss him instantly besides his father, and he yowls in despair:
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