ME-6 Poem of Remembrance

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It's getting late, Pallas. We should split up and make our own preparations.

Are you really sure about this, Titi?

Yes. Ever since Behnui learned the harp was a fake, he's had it under guard by our retinue. He's not letting me get anywhere near it.

He's definitely going to post more guards tonight so nothing unexpected happens, but it'll be a different story tomorrow when the exchange ceremony takes place.

He'll have to leave it exposed in public, which is where we'll find our chance...

Right.

But what comes next?

Next? The Sargonian government will probably give a formal apology about the whole affair, while sending more diplomats to discuss things with the Astynomos in private.

On the outside, it will look like a Sargonian mission taking a Minoan national treasure and fleeing, but the people in charge of both nations will know that all they lost was a fake.

That's not what my question was about, Titi. I want to know what will happen to you.

Me?

I'll take the fake harp and Mio and leave via the ancient route. Can't go back to Menat-Ha'mait, Padishah Khery's guards would definitely chase me across the entire city.

If I really do get caught, then it doesn't matter if it's by Behnui or Padishah Khery. Either one would most likely eliminate any inconvenient evidence, then push the blame onto Minos.

I'll have to keep running. Only then would Sargon's lofty nobles not dare look too deeply into this 'burglary' without authorization. What I will carry away with me is not just a fake harp, but the truth as well.

Titi...

Look, no trying to talk me out of it.

I'm all for better ideas, believe me. I don't really want to carry a big, heavy harp around Terra either.

Go home, Pallas. Let me be alone for a while. I'll see you tomorrow morning.

Fine...

......

It's late, I clocked out a long time ago. Whatever it is, it can wait until my shift tomorrow—

It is I, Grammateús.

Kassandra?

Forgive me, I know you are resting at the moment.

Err... May I ask why you have deigned to visit me in the middle of the night?

I wished to know if the Astynomos has told you anything regarding the theft involving Master Xanthos and his apprentice.

I had called upon the Astynomos' office earlier to discuss the ceremonial play with her, and when I mentioned the case from a few days ago, she became evasive.

Ah, the Astynomos most likely has her own concerns. It's the exchange ceremony tomorrow, after all. She not only has to deal with the entire process, but also the Sargonian delegation.

Therein lies my worries.

If the delegation were to ask for the case to be re-examined in the name of bilateral trust, as the Astynomos is in charge of diplomacy, Lydia could hardly refuse.

I could tell she was a little tense while we were talking, and her side desk had piles of Minoan law codices and incident investigation reports.

She most likely is already having her hand twisted by the envoy. This means the charges against Xanthos and his apprentice will only become more severe, and...

And?

If it were not for your schoolmate's Oripathy nearing a crisis point, I do not believe there would be a Vulpo tail behind your sofa's armrest.

......

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We finally meet, Lena Athopoulou, head of the Rhodes Island branch office.

Yeia sas, Kassandra...

Xanthos and Lykeion are her patients. She simply wished to give them their medicine while they are jailed, so she came to me for help.

Came to you for help? If this were any ordinary jailing, she should have no difficulty in sending medicine to convicts if she so wished.

It seems my conjectures were not too far from the mark. Lydia really is going to punish those two heavily to satisfy Sargon's demands. They have most likely already been moved to death row.

I never thought Hiéreia Kassandra, dream interpreter of Endymion Temple, would be so skilled in reasoning...

You should know, Hekádemos, that not even the Astynomos' Grammateús can visit prisoners on death row.

Unless you entertain some very dangerous ideas, such as...

A jailbreak.

......

I can't have Lykeion and his master dying in prison from an Oripathy attack. They might have done wrong, but the punishment is too severe.

You have not visited me tonight, Kassandra, and do not know about the sentencing on this case...

Could I ask you to help us keep things discreet? If all the heroes are up in the sky watching us, they would not sit idly by and allow something so ridiculous to happen.

Are you doing this to save lives as well, Lena?

I am.

I want to save my patients, and 'save' my sister. I understand she has her ambitions as Astynomos, but she has burdens to bear too, and she cannot keep making mistakes...

The eyes of the people will be on the exchange ceremony tomorrow. I've already obtained the prison blueprints through personal connections, and I have a route.

So long as we get them out, even if it's just to jab an emergency inhibitor into them, it'll be worth it...

A route is not enough. You need someone to buy you time at both the Astynomos' office and the prison.

I'll go find Lydia. As for the prison...

I can help you.

Kýrios, you said that nothing truly belongs to the Minoans... but how can that be?

The burdenbeasts we herd, you seen them before?

The scarves and veils draped on their heads we use to control what they see, are they not a Sargonian invention?

Ah, I am afraid you are off on the symbology of those scarves. Those are actually—

Haha, don't try to give me something like 'they are a subtle reference to the scarves the Sargonians forced us to wear during the occupation'.

What difference is there between ridicule and praise? Are they both not marks they have left on Minoan culture?

I fail to see how you can conflate the two...

Still being stubborn, are you? Then let us speak of the ground beneath our feet.

More than a hundred years ago, Minos spread its roots, drinking deep of this paradise of rivers, but now?

Padishah Malla, Queen of the Far Shore, gathered the engineers of Sargon and Minos alongside countless laborers, moving three poleis atop steel tracks. Athenius is far, far away from its former resting place.

That is obvious sophistry. Even if the Sargonians had not come, we would have eventually moved our cities onto nomadic plates ourselves. It's the inevitable march of technology...

Yes, well said! Have you spent time at Theros Temple, boy? However, there is one point you have overlooked: the very language we are using in this debate, right now, is 'mixed'.

The old tongue of Minos was eroded away during the occupation. The modern Minoan language the priests worked so hard to assemble, how many words do you think were taken from the nation you so hate?

You—

Enough!

......

You do not understand the man's meaning, Lykeion.

There is no removing the scars of war. A truce does not mean everything is in the past. We can no longer fight for the Minos in our hearts, for it no longer exists.

You, with the helmet. You're actually somewhat interesting.

Judging by your age, you could not have experienced the occupation yourself, but your words reveal a deep understanding of the period...

Do not waste precious time guessing at the history of strangers.

I'm just a tramp who doesn't care if he dies on the street or in prison. I once had a decent son, but he was stolen away by his dreams.

Dreams?

One morning, nine years ago, he ran out of his room, shaking me out of my hangover, telling me he had dreamed of a river, and that he should set off.

A river running red with blood. *sigh* I did not have to visit the priests of Endymion Temple to understand its meaning.

If that boy was not trying to get away from me, then he was thirsting for battle. He forgot what our ancestors had experienced, and forgot why his father is a useless, drunken gambler.

Divine revelation... A river red with blood...

...You are Ithakos's father?

......

Titi! Why're you back so late?! I thought you were busy 'fleeing from justice'!

We might actually have to flee from justice, Mio.

We what?! You spent all that time walking about to come up with this brilliant plan, and you want me to suffer alongside you?!

Take the fake harp far, far away, and place all the wrongs on one person's 'theft'. That's the best way to resolve this I can think of.

That's certainly not the best way, but it's definitely the most Medjehtiqedti way!

Huh?

Three weeks ago, when the delegation left Sargon, you said you wanted to experience the route Kereseira took when going to Athenius for the first time, so you followed the ancient route, even though it was a massive pain.

You could see Behnui's guards talking shit about you, but you didn't want to make a scene, and you were worried they wouldn't treat the relic right, so you took that big, heavy harp with you. By yourself.

And there was that time a few months ago in Menat-Ha'mait when you were helping that Pepe girl out of a bind. You went and poured an entire jug of wine all over yourself.

We both know you spent a long time grumbling to me about that afterwards, saying stuff like how a curator's salary isn't enough for all that dry cleaning.

But you didn't blame Pepe. After all, you believe this is what friends should do for each other.

If all your best ideas keep ending up with you taking on the burden yourself, then you should just quit already!

Pfft...

What's so funny, huh?!

Nothing, it's just that after hearing your words, I'm even more convinced I'm doing the right thing.

Like how Xanthos and Lykeion did not wish for a relic that is rightfully Minos's to be used as a diplomatic bargaining chip, so they stole it, bearing all the consequences.

I might not understand their true intents, but I believe their deeds are worthy of being recorded in the tales of the heroes.

Right now, I'm just a copycat. I don't dare assume I understand what makes someone a hero, but I want to write my own tale...

Even if I can't be considered a real hero, even if the protagonist of this story can only run away.

I never expected you to come to such a realization, Kyría Mashayer...

Kassandra?

Do you not blame Xanthos and his apprentice, who attempted to steal the harp? If it were not for their meddling, your cultural exchange would have gone smoothly, even if what you have is but a fake.

How could I blame them?

I have a feeling Behnui will try to seize the initiative to pressure the Astynomos into handing down an unjust sentence... but it's those two who reveal the truth.

If I can shift the focus of the issue onto myself by stealing the fake, and free both Xanthos and Lykeion, then it'll all be worth it...

Wait, how do you know the harp the Sargonian delegation brought is a replica?

......

Please come with me, Kyría Mashayer.

You really sure about leaving the village?

I'll be off at first light tomorrow.

The fields have already been replowed, there's plenty of seeds and grain, and the storehouse has also been fixed. As for the ferrying, I've taught a few of the young ones. Don't worry.

I'm worried about you, Xanthos.

You've never left the marsh before, and now you want to run off into the distance, all to find a stranger?

Ithakos is my brother. He's helped us all out before.

It's been an entire year. Maybe he's already headed back to Athenius... That's where he was from, it makes sense.

The things he agreed to do, he will do.

Once the war is over, he will return. He promised me.

Have you ever considered... if... if he's already...

He went off... to fight the Sargonians...

Then I shall avenge him. I shall avenge the Minoans.

Hey, don't get so worked up! You've got the wrong guy! I'm really not your Ithakos or whatever it was!

The one getting worked up is you, friend. I merely recognized the armor you wear.

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It belonged to Ithakos, my brother. Before he left, every family in our village donated leather and iron for it. I was the one who made that set of armor presentable, and forged him his weapon.

F-Forgive me, I've been battling for so long now, big battles, small ones, and it's been a long time since I had some proper sleep. My mind's...

Here. There's still some calming herbal tea in the pot.

Can you tell me who you got this armor from?

Another guerrilla friend. We ran into a skirmish... He took an arrow, and before he died, he gave it to me...

......

But his name wasn't Ithakos.

Phew...

You see all these marks on the armor? It must've passed through a lot of hands to get that many...

You might not know this, but we guerrillas aren't like the Sargonian army. We're not well-supplied.

Everyone gathers up weapons, armor and food, which get given out depending on the mission's priority.

I can tell you that fallen guerrilla's unit number, and that'll get you where you need to be. Oh, right, let me give you the armor back first.

Keep it. It's still of use to you. Just telling me the way is enough, friend.

If you insist, but are you sure you want to search the mountains?

These mountains are our stomping grounds, and where we battle the Sargonians...

Then I'll join you.

You ever seen a battlefield before?

(Shakes head) Before all this, I had only ever held oars and farm tools.

But we have no other choice, do we?

Sorry, I don't really remember the smiling, long-haired Forte you mentioned.

As for these boots, I got given them when I joined the guerrillas... According to the friend who gave them to me, they belonged to a middle-aged guy who was missing a chunk out of his left horn.

There's a hole in them.

S-Sorry. They're a little small for me, and I haven't had the time to mend them.

Those Sargonians have been chasing us this entire time. If you hadn't shown up to support us in the nick of time...

Sit down.

Huh?

I'll help you mend them.

Na'sai kala... Wow, you've got big hands, but they're nimble... How long've you been one of us?

Four months. I came here to find someone, at first.

Keep the boots.

Fighting, marching, hiding, reorganizing. You bleed, you die, or you wipe your sword, then you jump into the next battle... Days like these are long ones.

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Where's the man who gave you these boots? Just point me the way, friend.

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I knew this letter carved on the corner of this shield meant something... You're saying it's short for 'Ithakos', and you carved it?

(Nods)

So you've spent half a year wandering the battlefields, staying with pretty much every one of our bands, just to find this guy?

It seems you don't have much you can tell me either.

Sorry, Xanthos. Also, I don't plan on giving this shield back to you.

Look at just how many blade marks there are on it! And these black marks... Sargonian Arts can barely make a dent in it!

I need to keep it. It'll let me protect more of our friends, maybe even keep me alive long enough to go home one day.

If that is the case, then I couldn't be happier.

Let the name 'Ithakos' stay by your side. Let our blood, our eyes, be witness to our victory.

This is where we part, my friend.

Just point me the way. It is all I ask.

Try changing hands. Ithakos was left-handed, which I kept in mind when I made this Arts unit for him.

I knew it! I knew something felt off about the power levels!

...It's already been a whole year, Xanthos.

Time flies, as swift as a melted river.

You're already the most famous guerrilla in the mountains. You've fought the most fights, walked the most battlefields. Everybody sings of your heroism...

Are you really going to keep searching for your brother?

I have no reason to stop.

Like how you will not turn and leave the battlefield.

Hah, you're right.

Your accent. You're from Lachedamon?

I sure am. Well, more specifically, my hometown is on the route the nomadic city follows. It's a river valley, absolutely beautiful in spring.

I've just told you about my hometown, the village Ithakos and I founded together. You should tell me more about yours.

We have been losing this war for over a hundred years. We do not know how it will end. We should remember each other's hometowns... We should remember each other.

I'll be more than happy to, my friend.

I continue my search tomorrow. Just point me the way, friend.

Why must I suffer the indignity of being tied to this tree, Minoan?

Like I said, answer my question.

Ithakos, Ithakos, Ithakos! Always about Ithakos!

Fine, fine, tozz feek, I've had enough... Two years ago, my troops met with Minoan guerrillas near here. They were escorting some wounded.

I remember their ensign, matches the unit you mentioned.

We wiped them out. That Ithakos you keep talking about should've been one of them.

You happy now? Did you seriously set up an ambush for the sake of a battle two years ago, so you could capture me and have your revenge?

You're mad, Minoan, an absolute lunatic!

You might not believe me, but this is all just a coincidence.

Before today, I was not thinking of finding Ithakos, or killing his enemies.

This battle is no different to the ones of the past year, no, the past century.

You invaded land that doesn't belong to you, Sargonian, and we have no choice but to defend our home.

I have simply become accustomed to asking everyone I meet: 'Have you seen Ithakos? Have you seen that smiling, long-haired Forte? He's from Athenius, but he has a south country accent.'

Such a thing truly does mean I am, as you say, 'mad'.

......

I have found his armor, his boots, his shield, his Arts unit... Everything he left behind on this wooded mountain, I have found.

I have found him.

I have never once thought you invaders would remember the name of every Minoan you met. Your padishahs hardly care about what every line in your books of merit actually means, do they?

That said... Ithakos. Remember this name.

It is our passion, our love, and your crime, your punishment.

......

Now, tell me.

Where was that battle, exactly?!

Which of these firs was watered with the blood of Minos?!

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—!

Did you avenge Ithakos?

......

No.

Just as I was about to smash in the head of that Sargonian with my weapon, my friend stopped me, while the bugles cried out.

You never told me the campaign you experienced was...

The final battle before Minos and Sargon signed a ceasefire. Minos, which had lost for a hundred years,

hah, had finally won.

That friend of mine desperately held back my hand. He had a broken leg, yet he could still bring such strength to bear to rein me in.

I turned, and saw his face full of tears, and his eyes full of fear... Not towards the Sargonians, but towards me.

I knew what he was so afraid of.

He was afraid I would destroy this hard-won 'peace'. He was afraid I would bring about new conflict, that I would extend this cruel war. He was afraid he would become like Ithakos, forever unable to return home.

My pent-up rage and grief had nowhere to go. All I could do was watch that Sargonian officer kneel on the ground, numbly listening to the bugles. The same numbness I felt...

It was that moment I knew the war will rage on in our bodies. It had begun, and it could never end.

......

You are right. The Minos in my heart no longer exists. It died on the battlefield many years ago, alongside the Ithakoses.

But I will not allow the enemy to defile our land again. Not even if they had built this city.

'Not even if they had built this city'... So, even the textbooks say that nowadays?

What do you mean?

Ithakos went to your village, so full of passion, unlike me. He must have taught you many building techniques.

Indeed. He renovated nearly every important building in the village.

His techniques were passed down from his ancestors. During the occupation, my own grandfather was pressed into service by the Sargonians to build the nomadic cities, thanks to his mastery of engineering.

What?

The mobility layer of this Athenius might just be his handiwork.

Forgive me, I was far too rude to you earlier. I...

Do not bow your head for that, boy.

I am not the engineer who built the nomadic cities, I don't have proof of how much our ancestors toiled building Athenius. All that data was taken away by the Sargonians.

The Sargonians wanted the Minoan engineers' data... but why?

An engineer's notes will always have something more than just jargon and modification blueprints.

He had to keep track of the quantities of building materials, while coordinating transport and construction teams, so he was a meticulous planner of manpower, and remembered the names of every worker.

Not Sargonian workers, but the names of those from Minos, and where they came from, and how the Sargonians forced them to do their bidding.

Minoan workers? As I recall, current mainstream thinking is that Padishah Malla did not use any Minoan workers for heavy labor while the Three Poleis were being built.

Do you mean to say...?

History was not written by us, not even our final victory.

But there is evidence of wrongdoing, evidence that should be shared with the public. Do you remember where these engineer's notes are?

How should I know? Ask the Sargonians... Ah, but those Sargonians are probably dead by now, haha...

Ask the Sargonians... The construction of the Three Poleis...

No!

What is it, Master?

The Sargonian mission is not using the exchange to obtain technical data, but rather, the notes detailing proof of the Sargonians' sins!