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After a long minute, Andros turns back to you, his lean face showing a wide grin.
“What an unexpected development – a well-reasoned argument from a hulking soldier, <span class="mu-s">logos</span> from a man of the wild lands of Thessaly. Your words are wiser than you know, Nikandros!”
Andros points to his hounds – they are well-bred beasts, with clean limbs and deep chests – you have no doubt that together they could bring down a stag, with their fanged maws – their dangerous appearance is spoiled somewhat by their relaxed demeanor – wagging, pink tongues and white crowns of fur catching your eye in the morning light. They are mirror images to one another, duplicates – a striking pair.
“I spoke falsely before, in the service of my riddling – these hounds are identical as you can see, but both are master hunters, Nikandros, and Anaisthesia is just as deadly as his brother. My father loves them dearly, even with all the messes they have created through their hunts, but his wife loathes them – she has been plotting for years to destroy them. I myself care not for them, not truly – but I love my father, and I wish him happiness. And so when it was prophesied that Anaisthesia and Sôphrosunê would be slain through one of these plots, my father wept bitterly, for he cannot always intervene, even if he wishes it so. You see, my hounds are fated to be slain by another pair of their bloodline, and in the place of their birth.”
Andros meets your eye solemnly.
“And yet I wonder – perhaps this prophecy is not so absolute as it is believed.” Andros extends a hand to you, clearly requesting your assistance to stand, and without thinking, you grasp his hand to lift him. As you do, a peculiar sensation travels up your right arm, and warms your chest – an oddity that you cannot interpret.
>Nikandros has banked one (1) all-purpose re-roll, as if he had taken the Augur trait and analyzed a sacrifice.
Andros releases his grip and steps away from you, saying –
“I am interested to see what the son of Hippomedon and Euanippe does next!”
Your mother’s name escaping the barrier of Andros’ teeth shocks you – you did not expect to hear her name today, and you are suddenly quite sure that you have not been truly speaking with a prince of Delos, but one of the deathless gods. You take a fearful step back from the daimon…who laughs melodiously at your alarm.
“Fret not, young Nikandros – you have amused me this morning. One last word of advice – the Athenian delegation has hidden the Ship of Theseus by the northern-most promontory of the isle – not their usual harbor. You have explored this side of the island quite well, Nikandros - perhaps Menestheus would appreciate a guide to the oikos of King Anios?”
And with that, the daimon marches off. He passes through a copse of trees – and you lose him amongst the brush.
Anxiously, you scan your surroundings, but see only swans, the lake – empty fields and trees...
