Prelude
Philip II of Macedon, as a young man had been appointed as regent to the throne, but soon after he managed to gain the support of the Macedonian generals who held his council, and become king. He was of royal blood, as he was the son of the king, but unlike the kings and queens of modern day, birth was no sure sign of ascension to the throne.
Macedon was unique in its placement. It resembled neither the city-states to the south, nor the disjointed tribes from the north. Rather, they resembled the typical monarchies which ruled before democracy emerged. It was more similar to the Persian Empire than any other regional ally or enemy. Wherein a polis such as Athens or Sparta contained only a city and the close lands around which provided grain and goods for the city to rely on, Macedon by the time Philip's reign reached its peak, extended over a vast space.
Philip had learned the military, diplomatic, and strategic ropes of war while he was held as a sort of political prisoner within Thebes. So when he was returned to Macedon, his cunning strategy did not fail to elevate him to glory. His exploits brought him through the Greek mainland where his powerful reach extended to the independent city states. Using both his military and his diplomatic skill, he made allies of his enemies, and reminded his allies of the risks which betrayal posed.
Before his acquisitions in Greece began, however, Philip's efforts were focused north of his Macedonian kingdom. The northern tribes of Thracians, Gauls, Illirians, and Celts were among a few of the many who frequently caused trouble for the young King. Soon enough, however, Philip began to use the techniques of his forefathers, to acquire strength in military alliance. His fourth wife, Olympias, was the mother of his second son, and eventual successor, Alexander.
Olympias was a princess from Epirus. Her affection towards snakes and extreme devotion to worship of the gods caused many in the Macedonian court to think of her as a sorceress. Likely this came not only for her strange behavior, but for her stunning beauty, and her irresistibility. She was cunning, and her words were like venom to the ears of any who shared her council.
It was said that at the moment of their meeting Philip fell in love with her, and soon after they were married- she was only thirteen at the time. The two were a match made in Hades. Truly the cruelty in their union was inflicted due more to their similarities than their differences. Both were dangerously ambitious and power-hungry. Philip thirsted for the blood of the Persians, and Olympias murdered and cheated anyone who she saw as her enemy. Though she was one among many wives of Philip, she established herself as a Queen of authority and seniority among newcomers, partially because of her quickness in providing Philip with a son.
It is then no surprise that from the fruit of their passion bore a man such as Alexander.
His childhood was spent in the extravagant palaces of his father in Macedonia. He was awarded the luxuries of a price, but had to live with the discipline of a solider, and earn the authority of a prodigious general.
Alexander first met Hephaestion when they were children in Pella, early in their lives. When they were both still very young, Hephaestion's father was employed as one of the highest ranking generals in King Philip's army. His family resided in Pella, and due to his father's position, and his similarity in age, Hephaestion was from a young age, well acquainted with Alexander.
The two boys were remarkably close; they shared the same affinity for knowledge, and passion for literature, even at such a young age. Due to their closeness both in proximity and friendship, the boys were almost inseparable, until an injury sustained while leading a charge against a northern tribe left Hephaestion's father crippled in one leg. Due to his years of service and loyalty, however, he was rewarded a general pension to sustain himself and his family through retirement. With such a generous offer, his father accepted, and chose to join his kin in Athens, with his family.
They were both ten years old at the time, having spent the better part of their lives together.
"I don't understand, why must we leave Pella?" Hephaestion had asked, with tears threatening to betray how grim he felt.
"Hephaestion, we have spoken of this at great lengths, and I tire of repeating myself. The King no longer requires my services, and it is time to return to Athens."
"But father, I have no desire to go to Athens."
"You are young, and will soon learn that life is rarely about fulfilling your desires. We do what we must, and move on when we are no longer needed." His father explained.
"Pack the belongings you will need for the trip, I will have Xanthias pack our remaining items and accompany the caravan to the city in the coming days. We leave at sunrise."
A sinking feeling consumed him as he realized he was running out of time. "…But Alexander,"
"Alexander will be just fine. You will see your friend soon enough," his father interrupted. "It will not be many Olympiads before we return to this place. If only briefly,"
"Olympiads?" he shouted, suddenly realizing his anger towards his father. "Father, I cannot leave him for that long!"
"Well you best say your farewells while you can then." His father stated in an ominously calm voice, and Hephaestion simply stared for a few moments before he realized what he had to do. Dashing to his room he began throwing things from his already packed chest, and pushing scrolls from his desk, franticly searching for the one in particular he needed. Finally finding it, still in perfect condition he climbed pushed past his father and from their modest home.
He did not live far from the palace, but Pella had many winding roads and hills, and by the time he reached the palace, he was out of breath. The sun had long since set, and he knew he was running out of time. As he approached the gates one of the guards nodded at him, recognizing the boy.
"Master Hephaestion, how may we be of service?"
"I need to see prince Alexander," he panted, out of breath.
"The hour is late, so I will take you." The guard led Hephaestion through several passages before arriving at the room which he recognized as Alexander's, and motioned for him to stop.
"Wait here." He said, and approached the guard who stood before the doors. He whispered something which Hephaestion couldn't hear, and the second guard looked over the first's shoulder, nodded, and whispered something in return. Both went silent for a moment before the second guard turned and opened the door, signaling for Hephaestion to enter the lavish chamber. He entered the room slowly, suddenly unsure of himself, but when Alexander heard footsteps he stood from the desk at which he was practicing his Greek script and turned, praying that it was not his mother, returning to chide him for something or other.
Alexander visibly deflated when he noticed it was his friend. "Hephaestion, what brings you here at such a late hour?", noticing the frantic expression he held, and how clearly out of breath he was, Alexander rushed to him.
Hephaestion did as well, and they met halfway. "Zander, my father and I leave for Athens in the morning. He does not intend for us to return!"
"How can this be? So suddenly?"
"Not as much as I would hope. He has spoken of it on occasion in the past couple of weeks, but I did not realize he was serious."
"Not serious?" Alexander shouted, he felt his heart drop. "Phae, why did you not tell me sooner? I don't understand."
"I did not mean to cause you pain, but my father this night has made it quite clear that I shall not see you for some time, and I knew I couldn't leave you without wishing you health," Hephaestion reached out with his free hand towards Alexander, but he pulled away.
"You can't leave me, Phae! I command you to stay." Alexander fought. His eyes were now too full of tears, and his anger began to dissipate.
"Zander, this is not something you can control!" Hephaestion yelled back, and the room descended into silence. "I brought you this," he calmly started, reaching out once more to his friend. "If it is true, and I am not to see you until we are as old and withered as our fathers, I would ask that you remember me." He held out the scroll, and Alexander slowly took it from his hands. His confusion was replaced by recognition as he slowly opened it and began to read.
"Phae, I cannot take this." Alexander tried to push it back at his friend. "I need nothing to remember you by, my friend. Without you I am nothing!"
Hephaestion smiled through his tears, and took the scroll. He placed it on Alexander's bed gently, and returned to his friend. "You over estimate my importance, my prince."
Alexander pushed him lightly "You know not to call me that, Phae, and if I am to take yours, then you must take mine."Alexander moved to his desk to retrieve his copy of the Illiad, and gave the richly copied scrolls to his friend, who accepted them and gripped it tghtly. As Alexander now also fought to smile through the tears flowing freely down his face, he rushed at the taller boy and grasped him in a tight embrace, and they remained that way for some time. "Stay with me, Phae. Just for tonight."
"I cannot, Zander." He replied grimly. "My father will be waiting for me."
"I will send a guard to your father, he will tell him where you are." He replied eagerly. "He can collect you in the morning, and you must promise not to fuss." Hephaestion nodded slowly, though he looked down at Alexander stubbornly.
"Do not give me that look, you are the one who insists on hiding when your father comes to collect you. I know this game you love to play. It is the only way we can spend tonight together."
With that, Alexander sent his guard. Amyntor was fully aware when his son left that he would not return for the night, and so he agreed to the arrangement. Alexander held his friend tightly, fighting his tired eyes to stay open as long as they could so he would not miss the last moments they spent together. He wanted to memorize his face, and the way his hair fell to his shoulders. How sometimes in his sleep he would mumble nonsense, and his eyes would move actively behind their shades. But soon sleep conquered him as well, and their time was over.
The next morning, while Alexander slept, Hephaestion's father silently carried his son from the palace, sure to bring the scrolls his son shad slept next to, and he did not wake until well into the journey.
Keeping to his word, Hephaestion remained silent for several days after, as he could think of nothing but the misery of living without his only friend, in a city where his father was spoken of only in unkind sentences.
The next time the two boys met would not be for four years, in Mezia.
The famed philosopher Aristotle was a regular at the court of Philip. He had studied for many years at the Academy of Plato in Athens as a young man, and excelled in his work. It was, perhaps, a trick of fate that his future employer in Philip had his home town sacked in his continued conquests. After the passing of time. However, the two were forced to be reconciled. As a Macedonian by birth, and one of the most celebrated thinkers of his time, Philip requested Aristotle return to Macedon.
With the promise made to him to restore his home, and free his kin from slavery, Aristotle agreed.
And that is where our story begins.
Alexander rested his head on the hard wood table top in front of him. The tip to Mezia had been long, and his guard had taken it with limited rest. At age thirteen he had rarely traveled as far, but was still grateful to be free of the smothering air of the palace in Pella. The open air was invigorating, and he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with emotion to see the great expanses of blue sky and green pastures before him.
Chances to travel had been limited before now, as he was not old enough to be trained in the ways of weaponry or horseback riding. His current education was limited mostly to what his nurses could provide to him, and the advisors to his father. Truth be told it was quite lonely. With Macedonia's great expanses, most of his most frequent generals resided in the country, rather than in the city, and they only rarely brought their families to the royal palace, save special occasions.
He had little experience with other children, and as a result had many friends of older years older than himself, which greatly troubled his father. His son's youth made him susceptible to persuasion but the older boys and pages of the Macedonian court, and he feared that their manipulation would cause Alexander to turn against him.
Though he did not openly seek affection from his young son, Philip cared deeply of his son. He was a strong and fair boy, and he saw much of himself in the young man. He hoped that he would grow to be a good general one day, though thoughts of his son's claiming of the throne rarely breached his mind. The invasions of the north, missions to the south, and eventual conquering of the east all in his mind, Philip was less than occupied with the activities of his son.
"He cannot stay here, my lord." A member of his guard had urged in a briefing early one July morning. Alexander's birthday was approaching quickly and he would soon be thirteen. Few were blinded to the influences which already presented themselves to him. An ambitious mother, and even more ambitious friends. "He is not old enough to be a page, but pushed by the toxins which threaten him here, I fear for young Alexander."
"He is right, Philip." Another chimed in, Antipater, one of his most trusted generals. "Perhaps it is time we looked to the future. Many of us have sons, noble men who will one day join your guard. It would be beneficial to offer them all Macedonia has, to aid in their development."
"What do you propose?" Philip nodded. He was not ignorant to the happenings of the palace, and understood what his generals proposed.
"He means you should send them away," interjected Parmenio, another senior official. "Master Aristotle is under your charge, is he not?"
"He is," Philip replied. "But he will not accept to a job instructing children! He will make demands, you must know that."
"Demands, I'm sure, but that cannot deter us." Parmenio replied.
"The risk Alexander poses is too high for him to remain in Pella! Send him to Athens if Master Aristotle so demands it!" Another interjected and sounds of agreement echoed in the chamber.
"No." Stated Philip firmly. "An academy already exists to a degree in the south. If necessary we will send them there. But Antipater, you state correctly. It is not only my own son who poses risk, many of your sons would benefit from such instruction. Have it arranged that in the coming months they are prepared for it."
With that the conversation on the matter had ended. It did take many demands to have Aristotle to teach the boys, but at his elderly age, he was not at all inclined to travel far or practice the same bodily pleasures he previously enjoyed. His hometown of Stageira was re-built, and the citizens who formerly occupied it were bought from slavery. He was allowed to choose the location of his instruction, and so he chose Mezia. A small place, with all the beauty and splendors which nature could provide. It existed in absolute harmony with the rest of the world.
Alexander had been excited beyond belief when he heard the news. His mother, on the other hand, had been furious. She wailed and shrieked curses on her husband for taking her son away. For some reason, though, Alexander was unmoved. He would miss his mother, of course, and yet… He did not feel attached to his home. Even after having left, he did not feel sick for his home or way of life. He briefly wondered if there was something wrong with him. He ached to put distance between himself and the palace, to ride in the open and seek new thrills. He felt no need to be home. To settle in one place, or always be yearning for the comforts of his own possessions, which perhaps explains why he brought so little with him.
His father dedicated a generous patronage to the academy, so he brought only what he needed. Chitons, his series of scrolls containing the Illiad, and a small collection of traditional dress jewels for formal occasions.
He looked around the empty room he had been assigned. A bed rested on the far end, a table against the other, and a wide window faced the valley below. He could hear the echo of movement beyond the small enclosed space, as the companions of his father, and their children began to arrive. He had been told that the other students would be boys who he had already met, some more frequently than others. Their possessions as sons of generals and nobles alike would in the future mean they would be pages in his father's house, and eventually, should he be so fortunate, work under him.
Some, such as Cassander, and Ptolomy who had always been frequent in the court at Pella, as their fathers resided in the city, as advisors directly to the King. Others, such as Harpalus, Hephaision, and Nearchus, all were only present on rare occasions, as their families were stationed outside of Macedon in the north, Athens, and Crete respectively.
"There you are, Alexander!" voice startled him from his thoughts and Alexander jumped. He tuned just to be embraced by Ptolemy. "When did you arrive? I've been searching high heavens for you, boy," He released him, and alexander swatted at him.
"Don't call me boy, old man." He reliped, feigning anger. "You are not that much older than I am".
"Nine years is not much for you?" He exclaimed. "I feel my bones already weaken. It's a miracle by Apollo himself that your father allowed me to join you here."
"I would not have it any other way," Alexander laughed.
"Speak of our great king, where is your father?"
"He did not accompany me," Alexander started. "He comes with a company of generals in the day to come. He wishes for there to be a feast before we begin our studies.
"I wonder if this quiet place is ready for that." Ptolemy laughed, leaning against one of the stone walls by the window. "I don't think any walls this far south have been blessed with the quantities wine which your father will see flowing on that night"
"Have the others arrived yet?"
"Only Nearchus and Perdiccas. I suspect that we will be joined by Hephaistion, Seleucus and Aristonous before the night is through. But I do believe that Cassander and the sons of Parmenio will arrive in the company of your father."
Alexander stilled. "Hephaestion?"
"Mhm," Ptolemy nodded, fiddling with a piece of plaster on the stone wall.
"Do not be sly with me, Ptolemy." Alexander warned. "Will be here to study alongside us?"
Ptolemy looked up at Alexander when he recognized the hush tone. "By the gods, Alexander!" he laughed. "Of course he will be here to stay, did nobody tell you?"
Alexander's face visibly reddened and he turned from his friend. "It matters not, he probably won't remember me regardless."
"Are you really that daft?" asked Ptolemy as he rushed to his friend, and punched his shoulder lightly. "Of course he will remember you!". Ptolemy had been present through the years when Hephaestion and Alexander had been friends, and was close to both of them.
"So he has come from Athens, then?" Alexander asked quietly.
"I imagine so," Ptolemy replied. "Though… I would not say that it is his favour that you will have to work to earn. The others hardly have had the privilege of sharing your bed." Ptolemy winked.
"Ptolemy!" Alexander yelled, suddenly both embarrassed and horrified. "It was never like that! We were children!" Ptolemy laughed hysterically, and feigned injury.
"Besides, you are right. I hardly remember the rest. Aside obviously from Cassander and Philotas," Alexander shook his head. "You must help me greet the others when they arrive."
"Alexander, I hardly think that's required of you. But I will help- though I am not sure there will be much to tell them apart from the last time I saw most of them- they were just children. The only truly distinguishing factor is their fathers."
"It is good that most of them were accompanied here then." Alexander agreed. "Will you show me the rest of the academy?"
"Have you unpacked?" Ptolemy asked, looking around the empty room.
"I have."
Ptolemy paused. "By Zeus! You've brought less than nothing with you!"
"I have no need for extremities." He replied, with his eyebrows raised. "Now, will you do me the generous favour of granting me the pleasure of your company outside of these walls?"
Ptolemy laughed, "as you will, little prince."
The two of them left Alexander's somewhat empty compartment and entered the narrow hall which contained the rooms of the other students, as well as their instructors Leonidas and Lysimachus, who would both be leaving their charges in Macedon to teach the young men.
Alexander had met them both on numerous occasions. Leonidas had taught Alexander of music, literature, language, and history in his youth, and in turn they had become excessively fond of one another. It brought him great comfort to know he would have someone so trusted close to him at all times. He was quite old, and had served under Alexander II, his uncle in Epirus, in the military as a secretary, and as a result was well spoken and traveled. Alexander had always thought he had kind eyes. His mother had demanded the man accompany him to Mezia, and Philip begrudgingly agreed.
Lysimachus, on the other hand, was much younger than his other instructors, and served his father as one of his best generals. He had scars on every part of his body, and his hands were calloused from fighting with a sword. He had always been fond of Alexander, teaching him to fight with a sword on warm days, and how to wrestle expertly. He had been at the assembly on the day when Philip had agreed to send the boys off, and had volunteered to oversee the physical aspects of their training. Once again, Philip begrudgingly agreed to lose one of his best generals.
They continued down the hallway until a large bang was heard from a room three doors down. Looking at one another they ran towards the noise.
"Please!" a voice shouted. "Just leave it, you're useless!"
They approached the door as two men hurried out, leaving a small boy in the room.
"Nearchus. Of course," Ptolemy laughed, and himself and Alexander entered the room. The boy looked at them quizzically, examining their robes. Alexander did recognize the boy. But Ptolemy knew, if the crashing he had heard was any indication, that the small boy had changed little in the past few years.
"Health to you, Prince Alexander," He bowed.
"No need for formalities," Alexander extended his arm, and grasped Nearchus. "I remember you." He smiled. "And Ptolemy- I assume you have met?"
"How can I forget the torture which he insisted on inflicting on me on my father's visits to Pella." Ptolemy ruffled the smaller boy's hair. He had dark features and his skin was tanned from too much time in the sun, and was of similar height to Alexander, but clearly also at least a year or two younger.
"What caused such a racket, friend?"
"Ah, It was my fault." He shook his head. "My father's men sought to carry my chest in, and I directed them badly, and they dropped it short of the table. Normally I have no temper, but it's been several days at sea and I treated them poorly."
"Perhaps you would like to join us, Nearchus." Ptolemy extended, "I was about to show Alexander the rest of the academy."
"If it would not be too much of an inconvenience I would very much enjoy that."
The three boys left the room and followed the stoa into the portico of the building. "You mentioned you were at sea, Nearchus. From where do you hail?"
"My father is Macedonian but I am from Crete. We spend much time at sea, as he is the leader of your father's Navy. He teaches me everything he knows, and I hope one day to be as skilled a navigator as he is," Nearchus spoke fondly.
"I know almost nothing of the sea, you will have to teach me your secrets," Alexander replied eagerly, and Nearchus lit up.
"It would be my pleasure, my prince!"
"Call me Alexander, I insist."
"Very well, Alexander."
As they exited the hallway, they merged into a courtyard. Slaves and soldiers alike bustled past each other carrying various pieces of furniture, luggage, food, in all directions. To the side three men stood, and one of them caught the eye of Alexander.
"Leonidas!" he exclaimed loudly, rushing to embrace the older man.
"Have you really missed me that much?" Leonidas laughed at the young man. "It has not been many nights since I saw you last in Pella. Did Hermes bless your journey?"
"It has been overwhelming, but I am in good health, and I quite enjoyed my journey."
"And I see you have found Ptolemy and Nearchus as well," Leonidas motioned to the other two boys.
"Rather I found him," Ptolemy chuckled. "For someone who walks with such authority, he is surprisingly easy to let slip out of grasp."
"Oh Ptolemy, you're only bitter," Alexander retorted. "That even with much longer legs, and so much more wisdom, you are still unable to catch me."
"I am glad to hear I have helped you with something then, boy!" Lysimachus commented as he joined the four men.
"Master Lysmachus," Alexander bowed to the older man.
"Though by the time I am done with the lot of you, I hope you will be the finest young men Macedonia has ever produced."
As the four of them stood, the sound of horses approaching echoed into the courtyard and three horses and a mule approached the gates.
"Young masters," Leonidas bowed at the boys and started towards the gates with Lysimachus as his heels.
"Who is that?" Nearchus asked from between Alexander and Ptolemy, as both a stocky older man and a younger one dismounted. Through the crowd Alexander gazed on the young man. He had bright eyes, and stood a bit taller than him. He was obviously athletic, and wore a blue cloak. His hair was not very long, but it hung above his shoulders, and was of a different fashion than that worn by Macedonian boys. Despite being taller, and his features more refined, Alexander could recognize him the second he dismounted.
Suddenly he felt as if his stomach was full of furies and his face burned red. He felt incredibly self-conscious and began to fiddle with his robes.
"Well, I think Alexander would be more at liberty to say," Ptolemy began, and as the words left his mouth, the young man locked gazes with them. From the moment he saw Alexander he lost the ability to speak. Recognition dawned on his face. Obviously he had known the other boy would be here, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight he now took in.
Alexander was older, he obviously looked it. His features were the same, and though his eyes were his father's, the shade was a gentle brown resembling his mother's. His stature was developed, and his muscles were starting to develop in the right places. He was no longer the childhood friend he remembered.
"I am not ready," he whispered under his breath to Ptolemy, turning his head.
Catching the movement but not the words, Hephaestion grew self-conscious. Alexander probably didn't remember him, and if he did, what if he had changed too much to still be fond of him?
"General Amyntor!" Lysimachus shouted as he embraced Hephaestion's father, and Nearchus looked to Alexander expectantly.
"What?"
"Who is it?" the boy exclaimed, irritated by his friend's lack of focus. "The boy? Son of Amyntor?"
"Oh…" Ptolemy acted as if he were considering some new and eye-opening piece of information. Alexander swatted at him. "That would be Hephaestion, son of Amyntor." He chuckled.
"From where does he hail?"
"Athens," Alexander stated, void of emotion. He remembered little of the night Hephaestion left, but did remember the urgency and regret he had awoken with.
"General Amyntor, Hephaestion," Lysimachus started, "Allow me to introduce Ptolemy, Son of Lagus of Macedon, and Nearchus, Son of Androtimus."
"Health to you, General," Ptolemy stated, and the two boys bowed, as Amyntor and Hephaestion did in return.
"Thank you, Master Lysimachus. I remember you, Ptolemy. Your father and I have continued correspondence over the years, I trust he is well?" Amyntor started.
"Quite well, Sir. Though he does often speak of how your regiment was never better than when it was under your charge."
"And Nearchus of Crete. I remember your father as well, though do not think I have had the privilege of making your acquaintance."
Through the pleasantries Alexander dared to snake his eyes up from the floor which he had suddenly become fascinated with. Big mistake. Hephaestion's large blue eyes bore into his own for only a second before the shifted away. He visibly blushed, just as Alexander had, realizing he was staring.
"It is unlikely, Sir." Nearchus's highly pitched voice focused Alexander again. "I was born in Crete while my father was in Macedon. I was only in Pella briefly, as my father was stationed frequently in port cities."
"You sale like your father then?" Amyntor asked eagerly.
"I do sir, though with nowhere near the tact. I am too small still to gain my bearings properly."
"Since living in Athens, Hephaestion has had the pleasure of sailing, you must assist eachother while you are here! Isn't that right, son?"
"I do enjoy sailing greatly. I had an instructor who taught me much about navigation, I would be pleased to share with you what I know." Hephaestion smiled at Nearchus and extended his arm. Nearchus grasped it rightly and smiled wide.
"It would be a great pleasure!"
"Alright, alright, boy. I'm still surprised so much energy can be held in such a small frame. I look foreward to watching you sit through one of Master Aristotle's lessons." Lysimachs laughed. "Of course, though I know it is not needed, this is of course our young Alexander." He continued, grasping Alexander by the shoulder.
"Alexander, of course. You have grown so much." Amyntas bowed, and Alexander returned the gesture. "I hope you have forgiven me for keeping my son so long from Macedon."
"Hephaestion, you look quite well. I hardly think Alexander could begrudge your father for returning you to us in such good condition," Ptolemy laughed, tightly hugging his friend. "Isn't that so, Alexander?"
"Of course, Sir." Alexander regained his mental footing and immediately switched into his political manner. "You did promise to return him to be before we were our father's age, so I should be thanking you, for only removing him for such a short time." Alexander laughed. "And you do," Alexander smiled shyly at his friend. "Look excessively well- I mean."
"The sentiment is returned, my Prince." Hephaestion bowed.
A moment of silence passed through the group, when one of the guards approached them. "Sir, we are ready to unload the horses,"
"Thank you," Amyntor nodded to the guard. "I suppose we shall see you boys at dinner tonight?"
"You will, Sir." Lysimachus replied for the boys. "Be in the dining hall well before Helios leaves his guard. Understood?"
"Yes, sir." They replied in unison.
"Very well. Off you go,"
Bowing one last time, Ptolemy, Nearchus and Alexander turned to leave the courtyard.
"Would you still like for me to show you the academy?" Ptolemy asked the other boys earnestly.
"If it is not an inconvenience, I would still like that," Nearchus nodded, looking to Alexander for approval.
"Gods, please." He sighed, rubbing forehead. "I think some exercise is just what I need."
With that they set out for the wooded pathway below the courtyard.