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<span class="mu-s">In the Royal Palace of Argos</span>
You are Hippomedon Aristomachides, legendary Argive prince - a famed soldier, you have sent innumerable enemies of your uncle, King Adrastus, to the realm of the Lord of Many below. In combat, you are unassailable, unworried, unafraid - unfortunately, none of these things are true at the moment, as you shift irritably on a couch.
You breathe deeply, attempting to stay calm. The racket down the hall, from deeper within the Royal Palace of Argos, is growing louder.
You retreat into memory - following your successful cattle raid on friendly, neighboring Tegea, you had recovered a wealth of Timae, and made efforts to ransom a hostage noblewoman. In the process, you had a chance encounter with one of the “venerable goddesses” – Δασπληται Tisiphone, chief of the Curses, punisher of the basest criminals. By solving Her “riddle”, and in process, slaying three men embroiled within Her scheme, you escaped without further harm.
Except…
Later that same week, you had been madly stampeding through a crowd of Dionysians on the hilltop Larissa, seeking your wife, Euanippe, and She had accosted you once more, grabbing your arm, hissing a message in your ear:
<span class="mu-g">“Ah, so this is how obedience is obtained… Well done, prince of Argos!”</span>
You scarcely had a moment to consider Her remarks, because seconds after, you were swept up in a great joy; at long last, Euanippe was pregnant. And then a week later, a heavily-wounded Tydeus returned from his mission to Thebes, and recounted his victory over a treacherous troop of Theban assassins. The resulting furor sent your encounter with the goddess straight out of your mind. Tydeus, practically frothing at the mouth, had demanded that the Argive army march out that very night, but your uncle, King Adrastus, had shared such soothing and mild words that Tydeus’ request was immediately discarded.
Coming out of your reverie, you find that you are still surrounded by your male relatives – your uncles, Mecisteus, Pronax, and Adrastus, as well as your cousins, Capaneus (true) and Parthanopaeus (adopted) – you trade nervous glances with Mecisteus. Adrastus gives you a bracing pat on your shoulder. "Peace, lad - it will be well," he says to you.
Deeper in the palace, the cries of the priestesses grow louder, the chanting growing more distinct.
Two weeks after Tydeus' return, when your brutish cousin Capaneus confronted the seer Amphiarus in the streets, accusing him of feminine cowardice, stirring up a riot in the process, you were denied another chance to retreat to your home estates and consider the goddess's words. The idiot still sneers blasphemously at the mention of those “feminine” men whose mouths have been blessed by the oracular springs of Cirrha. You do your best not to look at Capaneus, across from you on another couch – to do so only invites needless antagonism.
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