"Where have you been all this time?"

"The Stone Circle, my Liege."

"I see no prisoners with you, are you here to tell me that you have failed?"

"It would seem that way."

"What am I to do with you? I had such high hopes…"

"Father, please… there is still a way."

"No, Telamon. What's done is done. I let my anger fuel my desire to capture those Tau'ri and bring to them what they deserve. However, Ptah has just sent word of his eternal gratitude for the hand-over of Samantha Carter, so not all is lost. We will soon be in possession of a very powerful weapon, my son."

"You still deem me worthy to be your son?"

"Despite the fact that you did not succeed in the capture of Colonel O'Neill, Daniel Jackson and the Jaffa, Teal'c, you did manage to send our Significants to their long awaited fates. That was of most importance."

Telamon stared at his father in disbelief. He had failed to return to Elysium with the Tau'ri as he had promised and yet, Rhadamanthus was not angry. Seated in his lavish chair he looked as content as ever. It was as if the Tau'ri had never arrived in the first place, only, if it weren't for the Tau'ri's foolish desire to help out a civilisation light years from their world in the first place, that smile on Rhadamanthus' thin lips would not exist.

Rhadamanthus let out a soft chuckle, "I did not expect that Ptah would provide me with such an… interesting weapon however."

"May I ask what it is?"

"You may ask, and I will answer. But first, bring up that stool by the window; we have not talked in such a long time."

"I disagree, we converse often father."

"Yes, but not as father and son. Sit."

Telamon pulled the low stool away from the windowsill and took a seat at Rhadamanthus' side. There was definitely something different about the old man. He was quiet, thoughtful… dangerous. There was an intensity in his eyes that Telamon had never witnessed before. It sent a chill down his spine, but at the same time it excited him.

"Before we start, Ptah wished me to give you this." Rhadamanthus pulled a long object from beneath his thick robes. Slowly, he handed it to his son. "It is your reward for the work you did for him."

"On Scythian soil?"

"Indeed. Without your help Ptah would not have been able to create the ground to shake so hard. It was your doing, my son, which brought Major Carter to this world."

Telamon nodded his head, remembering the first time he'd stepped foot on the home world of those bumbling Scythians. Ptah had issued him with an unusual weapon and had instructed the young man to make his way to the peak of their highest mountain...

'Lay waste to these people as if they were your enemies. Those who are quick to trust deserve no mercy. A true warrior trusts no one. You will be that warrior.'

Telamon climbed the mountain. The dead of night surrounding him like a cold blanket. Struggling with every step, the huge cylindrical weapon clung to his back, weighing him down. But was not going to give up. No, there was no room for mistakes. The mountain was unstable, rocked centuries ago by volcanic blasts. A perfect place so many years on to settle a civilisation. There was no better soil than here, no better place to build farms and prosper… no better place to undo it all. Tonight, Telamon would set the ball in motion.

'I seek those that are part of a group called SG-1. Many of my kin have sought them, but none have succeeded. They are a foolish race, fuelled by compassion and the compulsion to do right… to help even those they know not. They will not ignore such a desperate plea for help once these Scythians are smouldering. Make no mistake Telamon, and you will be rewarded. These people have allies whose allies have allies and in those ripples there are bound to be those who are allies with SG-1. They will hear the plea, and they will come.'

Stabbing his toes into the ground, the last few steps almost sent him to his knees. His thighs burned from the climb, his breath coming in short streaks that smoked in the air. He was almost there, almost at the crack in the mountain that would be its undoing. Throwing the impossibly heavy weapon off his shoulders, Telamon manoeuvred it carefully over the threshold. Lowering it down until it came to rest deep within the fault line, the Naquadah infused device hummed its deathly tune, waiting for the big bang.

'But how will they know to come to Elysium, my Lord? Will they not simply help these people and leave?'

'Do not question until you know all. I gave you something else. Once you have ensured the safe delivery of my weapon you will make your way back to the city. These people trust you, you must remember that. They will not hesitate to mention to SG-1 that you can help, that your soil is rich with power. You know it yourself, you can feel it in your veins. Your soil is your ticket to freedom. As a token of your alliance you will give them your gift. You will give them your soil and tell them that if they ever needed help the Stone Circle will show them the way.'

'They will give the soil to this SG-1.'

'And it will lead them straight to you Telamon. Do not fail your people. Do not fail your God!'

Telamon wasn't into failing. The ruler of the Scythians, an incredibly naïve old woman accepted the small silver box. 'Your kindness is unwavering. I hope only to offer you something of equal value in return, but alas, we are simple people. This city is powered by forces that we have only just begun to understand, and our people are still learning. There are so many cultures like your own that have shown us a better life. Thank you, your kindness will not go unrecognised.'

How wrong she would be! How proud his God and his father… and how children of his children will tell the tale of how their greatest ruler, Telamon, defeated the city of Avalon and won the eternal love of their God.

This SG-1 would not outwit him.

Bowing before the Scythian government, cold sweat clinging to his lanky features, Telamon made his leave. The Stone Circle spun into motion. Telamon faced the mountain and smiled, thankful that the Circle was so far from the city and Ptah's weapon. Tonight was a night to remember. As the event horizon flourished, his hand moved over the ring on his finger, his first gift from Ptah. The ground beneath his feet rippled, tearing the silence of the night apart and splitting the giant mountain in half. Clarions blared in the city, screams erupted from buildings and the lights began to fade like a wave extinguishing candles. Houses crumbled, animals fled through broken fences, dust engulfed the streets… it was pure chaos. Telamon smiled.

'Those who are quick to trust deserve no mercy.'

"Open it." Rhadamanthus sat watching Telamon. He saw the nostalgia in his son's eyes. He had been so proud of him that day. Ptah had been right. SG-1 replied to the desperate plea of the floundering Scythians. Despite the magnitude of the blast created by Ptah's mighty weapon only a handful of lives were lost. Ptah had shown the most outward display of mercy he had ever seen. The city however, was crippled. It probably still was. Telamon had brought great triumph to their God… and to Elysium. Soon, so very soon they would be marching to Avalon to lay waste to the non-believers.

Telamon closed his eyes and cleared his mind of the memory. Glancing down at his still hand he removed the strong object from its silk cover, and then from its sheath. The blade was incredible. Telamon had never before seen such craftsmanship… yet it was strangely familiar.

"Ptah did not mention it, but there can be no doubt that the blade was created by Elanora. How it was a shame to send her to the unknown…"

The young man was speechless. The long blade weighed nothing in his strong grip, yet it was as hard as steel. Filigree circled the handle in swirls and curves. Amazing scenes of men at war, of eagles soaring high above, watching the victors claim their spoils. On the other side was a brilliant image of Ptah himself and underneath him was Telamon's name, inscribed in the handwriting of the talented Elanora. Oh, how she was in good hands indeed.

"The blade is also meant for another purpose Telamon. Those images are not just for one with a vivid imagination. Soon, you will get to live it."

"How do you mean?"

"The battle is the one we shall fight on the soil of our enemy."

"In Avalon? How?"

"Our God has promised us an army, bigger than we could ever hope for. Leagues of men who lust only for the blood of every man, woman and child in Avalon."

"How is such a feat possible? Ptah has travelled nowhere. Has he collected that many Significants already?"

"I doubt that most would be ready… I dared not question him. But one thing is for certain, we will not be defeated like our forefathers were so long ago. No, the city of Avalon will crumble, and we shall reap the rewards."