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Entering the city is a simple matter – all here know of you and your accomplishments. Argyros installs your honorguard within one of the many guardhouses dotting the city’s thick walls. During your stay here, they will contribute to the city’s defense, train their inferiors amongst the city’s guard, and stay out of trouble. Argyros and yourself make promptly to the Royal Palace; as your trusted lieutenant, he is a welcome guest of your uncle’s hospitality. The thick bronze doors of the Palace are heavy in the extreme – it takes six men of common birth to extend and retract them. In times of peace, they are typically left open, and so you simply walk inside, nodding to the Royal Guardsman at the palace gates – they cheer your passing, asking you how many enemies of Argos you have slain this week, but you only chuckle, waving their questions aside – these men are degenerate gamblers all, and you prefer not to become the subject of their wagers. You carry the Heraclidean armor on your back, safely packaged within a leather sack.
Your uncle, of course, is holding court within the megaron – the great central chamber and throneroom – of his palace. Adrastus sits in his throne, which have been carved in the style of the Mycenean throne - an enormous stone chair of expert construction. The king has aged well - as a man of close to seventy summers, he has maintained his strength and vitality, in part due to retaining his training regimen. His robes are pale blue, embroidered with gold thread, and his snow-white beard and hair is well-oiled. The throne room is illuminated by Helios’ brilliance, streaming in from above – the roofing shades having been retracted to banish the shadows. The megaron is vast, studded with powerful stone columns, and the walls are decorated with colorful friezes and mosaics depicting the founding of the city by Inachus, the quarreling twins Belos and Agenor… The more recent friezes illustrate the travels of Talaus and Oicles amongst the Argo, as well as Adrastus’ glorious return from Sicyon.
Your uncle is in the midst of a discussion between his advisors - but it must be a boring one, because he leaps off his throne at the sight of you:
"Hippomedon - as always, you arrive just in time to spare me yet another debate about the taxes paid to the High King. What do you bring with you?" As he speaks, he shoos at his advisors, who emit sighs of frustration before flitting away amongst the columns. Shifting the leather sack, you display the Heraclidean armor - Adrastus is quick to locate the matching holes in back and chest plates. Adrastus whistles softly, as he examines the damage further - "Clean punctures - the same cast?" You nod in assent, before he grins at you. "Gods above, Hippomedon - I thank Zeus every day that you were born an Argive. Now, tell me how you won the bronze." His tone is indulgent, but his eyes glitter with interest as you make your report about the raiding Dorians.
>cont
