What is the mark of a warrior?
It was a question that every Amazonian woman asks herself before going to sleep, before training, and before battle. All of it was in hopes of striving to become the image of the ideal warrior they had in their minds.
Was it overwhelming strength, enough to shatter rocks and topple trees with mere punches and kicks?
Was it speed that outmaneuvers any attack that could possibly be thrown at oneself, or barring that, a foot speed able to outpace the toughest of monsters?
What of stamina to pursue the hunt to their exhaustion for an easy kill?
Then what of techniques that relied on the dexterity of the hands and body?
The Amazon Queen Penthesilea believed in a combination of all of them, and that was why she strived to never miss a day of physical and mental conditioning. Inevitably, she became one of the strongest if not the strongest of all Amazonians despite not joining a Familia. And she didn't mean this by just strength alone, but through capability.
Even without a Falna to rely on, none could best her, revealing the fruits of her efforts.
To begin with, Amazonians physiology was superior to ordinary humans and were around even before the Gods descended. To think that the only way for an Amazonian to grow in strength was to either pursue power through faith in the Goddess Ishtar (a bi-polar degenerate), or Kali (a murderous sociopath) disheartened Penthesilea greatly.
One could venerate and admire the Gods, but to be tied to them without consideration for their particular pettiness was a blunder beyond comparison.
Penthesilea scowled, but refocused on her daily training to keep in proper condition. At least she would have if her gaze didn't keep straying.
To her shame, her eyes kept drifting in a certain direction where the others had also gotten up early from camp and were exercising to keep themselves in peak condition.
It was a commendable practice, and one that Penthesilea appreciated in any warrior, as the expedition was marching to subjugate the One-Eyed Black Dragon, but never would she have thought it to be so…distracting.
Blushing beneath the metal-plate helmet she wore to conceal her facial features, the feather plume above her head resembled an upright ahoge as she viciously shook her head from side to side.
Snap out of it!
Penthesilea inwardly rebuked herself, but her heart was doing funny things.
Hell, the guy was just standing there with his arms crossed and primarily overseeing the training of the others for anything that needed to be fixed or changed before battle. He looked like a strict teacher, someone who'd learned from the 'best,' and was now enforcing that 'best' onto others.
It was none other than Heracles.
How could a man be that strong yet possess such charismatic poise?
The chiseled giant. a full head taller than Penthesilea, made a kilt of all things appear attractive in that it showed off his bare chest and tower-like legs.
And, ugh, and…a rippling eight pack.
Penthesilea should not have been moved by such things as she had her own set, but the sheer valor the man exuded was doing things to her body beyond her control.
It was due to the physiology of an Amazonian. She too could not escape it.
Born an Amazonian, a race inherently female, the urge to bear offspring with a strong warrior was even more prevalent in her than most because her standards were too high. First of all, a potential mate had to be stronger than her, and that already put many men off of her radar. Thus, she had never felt anything, adopting a form of indifference.
Marriage was only considered in the case of being overpowered and defeated by her potential suitor. It was tradition.
Penthesilea would never settle for a man who was just purely book smart or knew only how to use his tongue- and that man she bore witness to in this subjugation party was the epitome of manliness. If there was an ideal that all men or warriors should strive towards, it was that man.
The myth, the legend.
Yes, what was his name again?
Penthesilea had heard of it in 'passing' while in the camp. It wasn't as if she actively hunted for the information. It was only out of obligation for her sister Amazons who were star-eyed and salivating. There were no ulterior motives.
None.
Besides, it wasn't that difficult either. Many in the subjugation spoke highly of three individuals that acted as the basis of their confidence against the Black Dragon.
As people imperative to the success of the subjugation, Penthesilea naturally did her research, finding the man she'd been eyeing in question was one of them.
'Heracles, son of Zeus.'
If that title didn't bring shivers down her spine as an Amazon at the revelation of a Demi-God, then the prospect of birthing a daughter with Demi-God blood was an aspect even she couldn't take lightly.
It was no wonder that the sister Amazons that Penthesilea was training with were smitten.
Of course, this attraction extended to the other two as well.
A supposed son of Hephaestus existed, but he was being monopolized and swarmed by the blacksmiths and traders, not the least of which were the Crozzo's and their craze upon hearing the description of Shirou's abilities.
Hephaestus supposedly disliked the behavior of the Crozzo's and other blacksmiths so much that she mobilized her entire Familia to shield Shirou. There was a particular distaste for the Crozzos, but that may have had something to do with political tension than anything else.
As for the last Demi-God, all Penthesilea had heard was that he possessed an unbelievable speed, iconic golden armor, and that his name was Achilles.
Well, in contrast to Heracles's physique and demeanor who didn't need any armour, was there really a comparison?
Subconsciously, Penthesilea found herself glancing in Heracles direction again, but fortunately, her helmet prevented others from seeing the direction of her eyes.
Of course, this didn't work for everyone.
"...He's not that great."
The hairs on the back of Penthesilea's neck rose at the voice that suddenly appeared behind her. Her perception didn't even alert of a stranger's arrival until he spoke, almost as if the person had appeared out of thin air.
What Penthesilea failed to consider was that the man could have been so fast that she was unable to register his movement until it was too late.
Strands of green hair slicked back into a neat warrior's cut, came within Penthesilea's view.
Penthesilea turned around to address the man with a measured expression. This wasn't their first meeting as she'd already had a run-in with this person when she first arrived in camp.
What sort of name was Rider?
Still, who was she to judge? Especially when Rider appeared to be a fellow warrior in this subjugation party filled with greenhorns.
"Excuse me?" Penthesilea refused to show that she was startled at Rider's sudden appearance, but the same couldn't be said for her fellow Amazons.
The Amazons Penthesilea brought with her to aid in the subjugation jolted in confusion, some moving to grab their weapons while others remained wide-eyed at the implication of Rider's infiltration technique.
Penthesilea motioned for her warriors to stand at ease as she didn't want to give Rider the satisfaction with that cocky grin he had on his face.
It was like he was teasing her; not that Penthesilea had ever been teased before. Yeah, actually, it's never happened. As such she did not have the patience to appreciate the humor in it, nor understand that she was the odd one out. If one boasted to be better than her in weight lifting but couldn't even lift one boulder, she'd sooner scorn the man. The same could be said for a contest of speed, though she never understood that there were ulterior motives. Primarily with each 'bounce' she took as she jogged or sprinted.
She was a queen, and few if any could ever hope to challenge or unnerve her anyway. They were beneath her notice.
But Rider was persistent if nothing else.
"I said he's not that great," Rider crossed his arms, pulling back the smirk on his face.
As much as Penthesilea tried not to show a reaction, Rider was a warrior and had clearly seen her flinch after he snuck up on her. To pretend that she was unaffected was too much like the Penthesilea Rider knew in his legend.
That woman was…a true warrior and a work of art.
A true work of art.
Wistful, Rider shook his head. He then elaborated while nodding toward Heracles overseeing the training of the others using Chiron's spartan workouts.
"A big body like that hinders nimble movement," Rider clarified while pointing out Heracles's top-heavy build and tree trunk like legs. "Its efficiency against beasts and monsters is without question, but in combat with humans, a sleeker and robust form is the ideal. A difference in era if you will."
Heracles grew up challenged with the divine intervention of Hera, which forced both mental and physical labors thought to be impossible. His current body was a reflection of what was needed to attain victory over each obstacle. Coupled with his God-given strength, there was nothing Heracles lacked.
In contrast, Achilles grew up training for war and brought himself universal fame as the only warrior hero that could rival the great hero Heracles. He was specialized and-
"He'd fold you," Penthesilea did not beat around the bush.
Rider shrugged. Yeah, he knew damn well that Heracles could literally fold him, but he had to catch him first. A feat not so easy.
"He'd try," Rider answered with a smirk, noting the subtle twitch in Penthesilea's shoulders.
Penthesilea paused, glancing over towards Heracles again, and then giving Rider a once over. The physical specifications and demeanor practically screamed 'no contest,' especially because Rider's presence was muted. Unlike the passive effects of Heracles' God Hand, Rider's presence shone more while in battle, not in his leisure.
Penthesilea couldn't be blamed for thinking Rider weaker.
"You'd lose." Penthesilea resumed her morning warm up, uncaring if Rider was watching. "I figure you'd even have trouble standing up against me with your lackluster attitude as a warrior."
Rider raised a brow, but he wasn't one to take a jab and then not jab back. "On the contrary, I think you have it backwards. You'd lose against me with how uptight you are as a warrior. You need to learn how to ease up and take a compliment or two."
What?
Penthesilea suddenly dropped her weights she'd been using to warm up and frigidly turned to glare at Rider.
Her, lose to him?
Smiling at her expression and loosening his own muscles, Rider did a few stretches and came up with a suggestion.
More like a death wish.
Penthesilea narrowed her eyes.
"Care for a spar? I know how you Amazons talk," Rider proposed, pressing a hand over his bicep to emphasize the size.
He was a twig compared to Heracles, but compared to others, he was a beast. Corded muscles rippled as they flexed, shaping into a defined shape that spoke of battle. Penthesilea caught herself before she was found staring, and instead hardened her stance.
Rider shifted from stretching to aerobic movement to loosen his joints. "None of you will even consider the words of a person weaker than you anyway."
More so for Penthesilea who likely never knew defeat in the Amazon.
With gleaming silver hair draping out of her helmet, the Amazon Queen seemed to bristle as she compared her own muscles.
She would never back down from a warrior's challenge.
"State the terms of the spar," Penthesilea spat. "Weapons, unarmed, or grappling, I excel in all."
"First to draw blood," Rider offered.
"Agreed." Penthesilea nodded, but silently put away her weapons when she saw Rider had no intention of arming himself. Her pride and honor prevented her from drawing a weapon on an unarmed opponent.
"Whoa there," Rider gave fair warning. "You don't have to put away your weapons. Just use what you're most familiar with."
Funny. He should be a comedian.
Penthesilea's face soured beneath her helmet. This spar came at a good time. The subjugation party was nearing the Black Dragon day by day, and stress relief that would simultaneously keep her in shape and eliminate the smug look on Rider's face sounded cathartic.
Penthesilea tightened the white cloth bindings around her chest to flatten out the ginormous mounds, and then wrapped cloth around her knuckles. It just wouldn't do, to break an ally's bones before a subjugation.
Finishing her preparations, Penthesilea gestured to one of her fellow Amazons to act as a spar proctor.
"Grit your teeth," Penthesilea said sternly, power and grace welling from her form. Her muscles and tendons were stretched taut like a drawn bow ready to snap forward.
"Hmph," Rider stood at leisure like a charlatan who knew not what was to befall him.
"START!" A fellow Amazon gave the signal, and Penthesilea did not have to be told twice.
This wasn't the first time she'd dealt with cocky men who thought too little of her abilities or overestimated themselves.
She would prove why she was an Amazon Queen right here and now.
Lunging forward, she took two fingers and jabbed them towards Rider's eyes in a bid to disorient him before he could react and show him how foolish he was being to challenge her.
Hmm?
Something wasn't quite right.
Her fingers stopped just short of touching Rider's eyes while fully extended.
Did she misjudge the distance? That's never happened before.
Penthesilea could hear the murmur of her Amazon sisters surrounding her, and inwardly stifled a growing feeling of embarrassment.
"Oh, you missed?" Rider said, seemingly standing in place. It was as if he didn't even move.
In her fluster, Penthesilea and the Amazons failed to notice the depression marks of the grass beneath Rider's feat trailing back by an inch. They never even considered that Rider had grasped Penthesilea's exact reach and location of her attack within the span of her strike, and moved just enough to not be in range.
Growling under her breath, this time Penthesilea wasn't playing.
She put aside all reservations and seriously considered this match. She found herself insulted that rather than counter attack her for her blunder, Rider just stood there.
Could he have also realized that Penthesilea hadn't been taking things seriously and allowed her to fully grasp that she as dealing with an equal warrior?
At least he had honour.
Penthesilea's expression lightened before she balled her hands into fists and took a proper stance.
No more playing.
"I'll end it with this-"
Penthesilea moved her leg and stook a step forward until she was right within range of Achilles.
A good blow comes not just from the upper body, but through the rotation of the hips with legs planted firmly into the ground.
Bracing her weight on her back knee, she chambered her other leg forward to swipe into a debilitating jab, only to grow confused when her forward foot crashed into Achilles shin mid-step and caused her to destabilise her momentum.
A feeling of vertigo quickly assailed her as her punch missed entirely, and Achilles once again remained standing in place. The only difference was that he'd also taken a step that coincidently mirrored Penthesilea's own movement. In contrast, she was knocked off of her feet and landed face-first on the ground.
W-What?
Penthesilea blinked back with utter confusion.
"Sorry, I should watch where I step." Rider winked, practically stifling a laugh. "I didn't know you were this clumsy."
T-This bastard.
What he did to not strike back at her before wasn't honour, it was, it was- he was making fun of her!
Wiping the dirt off of her helmet, Penthesilea was very much conscious of the stares her fellow Amazons were directing at her. The hushed whispers and the growing shame inside Penthesilea were causing her face to flush from beneath her helmet.
Her reputation felt like it was crumbling away stone by stone.
Her shoulders started trembling, shadows cast over her eyes.
Rider felt the change and spoke without meaning to.
"Easy now, the woman I knew was- I mean you shouldn't lose your composer." He quickly changed course, but lost himself to a hint of melancholy.
This Penthesilea wasn't at that level yet, but she was gradually working there. The best Rider could do was help guide and tease her along.
"Don't patronize me." Penthesilea hissed while getting back into a fighting stance. "Again."
It was a demand, and Rider was more than willing to oblige.
.
.
.
"Ooh, you're glaring."
"AGAIN!"
.
.
.
"Sense, don't just react."
"Y-You!"
.
.
.
What was this?
Penthesilea was once again in the dirt, eyebrows twitching incessantly. Fingers clenching, she pulled out several grass roots as she hissed and glared up at this, this, charlatan of a warrior!
By now, the voices of her Amazon sisters were deathly silent.
"Scary." Rider raised the pitch of his voice. He was enjoying this. "I'm trembling in my boots."
Just once. JUST ONCE.
Silently, Penthesilea stood up and charged the smug bastard again and again until it was time for the subjugation party to march once more.
She needed to punch that face in.
Ais knew she wasn't supposed to be here, but she still went anyway.
Loki was sure to disapprove of her actions, but Ais insisted on this first rebellion and would ask for forgiveness at a later time. Her goal wasn't the defeat of the Dragon, but to look for anything that Caster could use as a medium for her parents who'd perished in the first Grand Subjugation raid.
Bell had been instrumental in bringing her along, and if that meant stowing away in a supply's carriage, then she would do just that.
Groaning, Ais quietly massaged the ache in her back and waited for Bell to sneak her more food.
Her legs felt cramped in the limited space, and she was itching to move her body after several days of staying in place while the wagon pulled her along. The only reprieve was in the night when everyone was out sleeping and Bell would help sneak her to his camp where she could stretch and do a light workout.
In the end, was all this worth it?
What was she going to be able to do in this battle except shirk away from the collateral damage?
No!
Ais clapped her cheeks while listening to the rickety rolling of the carriage wheels. She swore, this was the bumpiest ride she'd ever been in and her butt was starting to blister. Another bump and she felt like exploding.
Instead, she changed position to reduce the pressure on her tailbone. It didn't help that she was wearing armour.
But she had to persevere. No one else would be able to search for the right signs to locate the remains Caster would need. It was only her because she was a special existence.
Ais mother was a Spirit, of which not much was known of their existence, but Ais just knew that if there was something related to her mother or father, only she would be able to sense it.
Still, there was the question of whether or not Caster could revive her mother too?
Ais never got the chance to talk to Caster and inquire about the nature of spirits from such an accomplished doctor.
"Is it just me, or do you hear metal in the wagon?"
Ais inwardly hissed in alarm as the voices of the supply workers entered her ears.
"It's supposed to be sleeping supplies in there like pillows, linens, and camp gear. Maybe it was a camping stake?"
Shortening her breath, Ais pulled her armour away from the wood and sunk deeper into a pile of cotton-stuffed pillows to mute the noise of her attire.
Fortunately, the workers were too lazy to check, and Bell's frantic arrival solved the issue altogether.
All that was left was for Ais to remain silent until the party reached the Dragon.
Bump. Bump. Bump.
Ugh, Ais's lips quivered as she felt her bones ache.
Put up with it. Put with it.
Loki would surely force her back if she was discovered!
What Ais failed to realize was that it wasn't simply Bell that warded the workers away, but Loki herself who gave them a subtle stare not to pry into a supply wagon marked with the Loki Familia.
Loki had noticed Ais long ago, but was choosing to keep silent out of helplessness now that she was already here.
Calling her out now would no doubt lead to another argument that would blow up in front of everyone and reveal the internal tension currently present in the Loki Familia.
Loki couldn't have that, not with all the other Gods and Familias around that could spread gossip in Orario.
Grumbling under her breath, she instructed Finn to prepare a third helping of provisions to give to Bell who would then give it to Ais.
Besides, Loki wasn't presently alone.
"What's gotten you so quiet for so long?" Loki asked Freya.
It wasn't like Freya. Not with her twisted personality and all the potential heroes around. There was even that Bell kid that Freya had been showing an interest with, and here she was still lost in thought.
Freya opened and closed her folding fan, and slowly glanced over at Loki.
"Nothing that you have to concern yourself over." Freya said.
"As if I'd be concerned about you." Loki scoffed.
The two fell into silence once more, but both of their gazes trailed after Ortlinde's form leading the subjugation party at the front.
There was a question in Loki's mind.
What was the white titan?
Who was Sefar, and why did her divinity shake at the mere mention of the name? That just wasn't possible.
In truth, Loki had gone to question Odin on the matter, but the All-Seeing God looked stricken at the name and refused to elaborate.
Meanwhile, Freya was mulling over something and making Loki feel like the only one out of the loop.
That much was certain, but Loki wouldn't pry into it now. Not when the priority was the One-Eyed Black Dragon whom even the Zeus and Hera Familia had failed against.
Loki had no choice but to prioritize.
There would always be an after.
Besides, she'd never seen Riveria or Finn sweating so hard during training under Heracles.
Their levels were noticeably increasing.
Loki puckered her face as if sucking on a sour lemon.
Maybe she should have brought Gareth too?
The subjugation party had now passed through the lands surrounding Kuru and were en route to the heart of the disaster plaguing the city; the direct cause of draconic corruption mutating the local wildlife and fauna that battered Kuru's walls as they spread outward.
With tension growing day by day, the inevitable clash against the One-Eyed Black Dragon was coming at hand.
Word was that Rider, Ortlinde, Shirou, and Archer's comrades were within reach, barely a couple hours away.
Which meant to say, this was the final stretch.
All around, the land was turning baren or corrupted with black magic energy coursing through leaves and in the veins of animals that drank tainted water.
The jubilance in the party had waned, replaced with solemnity.
This was the same even for Penthesilea whose mind had grown more and more composed by the day and its annoyances.
"How's your stay in the subjugation party been?" Rider acted natural as he seamlessly invaded Penthesilea's personal space, stopping just as they were practically shoulder to shoulder.
"Good," Penthesilea said flatly.
"That's not much of an answer." Rider grinned good naturedly.
"What more do you want? This isn't the time for jokes." Penthesilea scowled, unable to drive Rider away because she'd yet to even hit him in their numerous spars. At the very least, letting Rider interact this closely with her revealed that she'd at least acknowledged him. "But there is one thing that's been bothering me."
"What?" Rider asked in confusion. There was actual unease flickering across Penthesilea's eyes.
"That." Penthesilea pointed stiffly, a visible tremble as goosebumps ran up her skin. "That right there."
Following the direction Penthesilea was pointing towards with his eyes, Rider fell utterly short of words at the sight of his own starry-eyed mother watching the two with hawk-like eyes and clasped hands.
It was like flowers were perpetually blooming around her. The dopey smile on her face was such that even Peleus who stood near the woman appeared flustered from all the stares. The woman was making no effort to conceal herself, or was too lost in her machinations to realize her expression.
Like father, like son.
For the first time, utter embarrassment clouded Rider's features as he recognized the two, his own mother flashing him a quirky thumbs up.
"A battlefield fairy." Rider coughed quickly, steering Penthesilea's gaze away. "She means well but, I-Ignore her."
Penthesilea opened her mouth, realizing this could be her chance to finally get back at the bastard, but it wasn't to be.
The sound of a Dragon's roar echoed, the reverberations creating a shockwave of wind that forced many to shield their faces.
The mood turned grim.
The Dragon had likely sensed their approach and would prepare itself. It was one thing for a small unit to investigate the location of the Dragon, and it was another thing to be marching towards it was a veritable army of elite personnel.
Everyone gave pause, a somber air pervading as even Rider, Archer, and Shirou felt the sheer magic energy being emitted in the distance.
Dragons were always the very embodiment of power in all mythology. They stood at the pinnacle of Phantasmal Species that possessed various abilities.
Wise Dragons, Cursed Dragons, Elemental Dragons, Evil Dragons, Righteous Dragons, there were many many legends, all of which denote the type of adversary ahead.
Even Heracles had to give pause when faced against Ladon in the labor of the Golden Apples.
Expectedly, the cry of the Dragon was followed by a stampede of hundreds of panicked beasts and monsters headed in the direction of the subjugation party.
However, the subjugation party's reaction was vastly different from what Penthesilea had envisioned. The same was true of the Ares Familia that joined the raid.
The entire party from Orario remained unguarded yet tense. They didn't get into formation let alone do anything else.
A single name was called to handle the issue.
"Rider."
Hearing the name that echoed out, for the first time Penthesilea widened her eyes as the implication of what was happening set in.
"Madness," She sneered, gripping fast to her favoured spiked ball and chains.
Even more maddening, Rider made no motion to deny this suicide request and got started doing light stretches.
"Are you worried about me?" He even had the gall to joke.
"You insufferable, egotistical, maniac- there's a difference between concern and rationality! A warrior should know better." Penthesilea said with genuine emotion.
Even if Rider could understand where Penthesilea was coming from, it was her who couldn't yet understand him.
"Then you just haven't seen one like me. I was the champion of an entire army, you know?"
Souring visibly, Penthesilea glared not only at Rider, but then at the audacity of the party subjugation members who made it look like it was normal to send a lone warrior to his death.
She should have never joined such an honourless party. Even Ishtar Familia was better than this.
And Rider! What was this? More baseless bravado?
"Witness the might of the finest of the Myrmidons!" Rider declared while mounting a chariot that seemed to appear out of nowhere.
There wasn't even time for Penthesilea to question everything before Rider was off.
"Wait!" She screamed.
That man, what was he thinking?!
As much as she was annoyed with him, she found that he was actually helping her find her faults while sparring. He was surprisingly genuine in his actions despite all the aggravation. That sincerity was something Penthesilea had never had directed at her from anyone.
Rider was…a good man and warrior.
Why were they just letting this happen?! Did they have no comradery?
Let it be said that the Amazons never forget favours or friends.
"Amazons!" Penthesilea began a call to rally, but the words died in her throat even as her sisters prepared for battle.
A flash of light suddenly covered Rider's body up high, and then -
Penthesilea's eyes widened.
Golden armor?
Rider, the man she'd been bickering with for the past few days-
'And the third Demi-God known for his speed and golden armour…'
He was Achilles, son of Thetis.
Thanks for reading! More of a character building chapter here to set up for later plot development down the line.
Free web novel :[The Apostate in Grim Fantasy] (For those that asked, the web novel is available on webnovel and the patron main page, leave a review if you'd like! New goal is 20 reviews)
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