Pherenike - Chapter 12

Dexikos angrily kicked the barrier, speaking nervously.

“Damn it, am I a dog or something? Do you think tying me with Althea will stop me? Can’t I use Orthea too?”

“You can’t move for a while. That’s enough.”

“This is witchcraft. Why do you keep using Althea physically like Orthea? You’re diligently building up resentment against me. Aren’t you afraid of the consequences? What if I go to the sanctuary and snitch about Sybylle’s misdeeds?”

“Too bad. I’m so scared I don’t know what to do.”

“Is it not enough that Lord Paetusa is dismissed from the royal family? What would I do if Sybylle is also dismissed from the sanctuary?”

“We’d make a matching pair.”

“Damn it, release this thing.”

“What if you look at me a little? Should I stand in front of your room later and raise my hand or something?”

“Sybylle, you’re destined to become the holy Kybellaune, why do you keep doing such unseemly things before the goddess…”

Even as he said this, Dexikos stubbornly followed her. But at the last boundary, a flash of light erupted so he stepped back, cursing as if he were burned.

It was the same moment they saw Deucalion being escorted out of the council surrounded by the royal guard’s sword.

“…I’ll be back. Wait quietly at the west gate.”

Instead of responding, Dexikos muttered curses to himself.

He didn’t step back from the barrier because of pain but because he knew the longer the argument, the more disrespect Pherenike would show to the goddess. Fearless Dexikos was only truly afraid before the gods.

The commotion in the hall continued. The men of the Thasos family randomly attacked the freemen members of the council who dared to vote for the prince’s execution, and the royal guard detained these noble men. The standoff continued.

The king looked down on all this indifferently, as if watching an endless, tedious play.

Before leaving the council, Pherenike glanced at Epicydes as if she wanted to kill him, then hurriedly turned and walked away.

* * *

Pherenike, who was wearing a gray veil over her head, stepped through the small door used by the initiates. Her appearance resembled that of a young, low-ranking female shaman.

It was common for people from the central sanctuary of Calyce Mountain to attend the king’s council.

Excluding the old priests representing the High Priest and the nominal chairman of the Antehe Council, not many priests could occupy a seat in the council. However, the young initiates and female shamans following them like shadows were often more numerous than the nobles’ attendants.

Initially, Pherenike did not attend this gathering in her own name. As the daughter of General Vassilios, formal participation was impossible. If she were there as the future Kybellaune, she should have been seated prominently from the start.

Nearly a thousand individuals, from council members to various nobles, guards, and observers, filled the vast circular council hall. Pherenike was in the section for the free people, where no one could recognize her.

The control device on her wrist dimmed the light that people could recognize. It wasn’t perfect, but amidst the crowded assembly, it was nearly flawless. Unless someone like Deucalion could spot her in any crowd, no one would know of her presence, not even her father.

It was quite ironic. Actor’s guards, who appeared out of nowhere, recognized her immediately with no hint of surprise and stepped out of the way. It was as if he knew she’d be there, or as if she was still rightfully considered their master’s betrothed.

Pherenike briskly passed the guard and chased after a man walking ahead. She shouted, “Prince Regent!”

Actor slowly turned around in the darkness.

The corridor leading to the Prince Regent’s nameless room in the northwest of the Antehe Council building was as deserted and dark as ever. Pherenike, in her white priestess’ robe, left a trail that momentarily looked like light.

Actor stood in his place, letting her approach.

And just as Pherenike was about to confront him just one step ahead, he leisurely turned and began walking again.

His lieutenant, as if receiving an unspoken command, retreated from them. Pherenike, grinding her teeth, grabbed Actor’s robe.

The man’s face, devoid of any smile, suddenly appeared to be smiling.

Possibly because he knew Deucalion’s sentence was false and found her desperate state amusing….. There were a few reasons Actor Nikandros might find joy in this, and Pherenike had some thoughts.

“I don’t want to hear Deucalion’s message from you.”

“Relax, it’s just my tongue wagging.”

“For your Deucalion’s sake?”

She glared at Actor’s expressionless face for a moment, then slowly removed her veil and bowed her head.

It was a custom that the women of Evdokia’s freemen often showed as a sign of respect to their superiors, something not commonly done by the women of the sanctuary.

As Pherenike removed her veil, her fingertips gracefully gathered below. Actor’s gaze intensely followed her movements. Pherenike suddenly found herself amused after noticing that she had been oblivious to such blatant desires.

“What if you took Pherenike of Vassilios as hostage instead of Deucalion, My Lord?”

As a nobleman’s daughter, not as the goddess’s favorite. Actor’s gaze slowly traveled up from her clasped hands resting on her belly and lingered indifferently on her face.

“I am Deucalion’s weakness.”

“Even a blind man with no sight knows that.”

“Then My Lord must know it even better.”

“But how long will you remain his weakness?”

“…”

“Love is finite.”

“Then within that finite love, use me as you wish.”

“Use you ‘as I wish’… That’s a broad term.”

He repeated her words dryly.

“Sybylle, have you ever imagined a man daring to treat you in ‘any way’?”

“That child can imagine it.”

“…”

“Then that child will feel pain worse than death. As long as you hold my leash, I will never oppose you. He cares for me foolishly. To that child, I am his woman in the first place…”

“As his only sibling. I know.”

Deucalion’s only real sibling monotonously responded to her words.

“Weren’t you agreeing that Deucalion’s love is finite?”

“That child’s finiteness is his lifetime.”

“…”

“Life is finite, so is love.”

“A love that ends only with death.”

“It doesn’t matter to me how you possess me. I don’t even dare hope things will be like before. In fact, the less significant, the better.”

“How dare I treat the daughter of General Vassilios like a mere plaything.”

Even if she wasn’t the goddess’s favorite, the meaning was clear. How could the noble daughter of the Vassilios family be treated in such a way?