Myr 290 AC -

Floki the shipbuilder, often called 'Floki the fool' by many of the people of Myr, sighed as he lay down among the dock slaves, growling lowly as he tried to make his pathetic straw mattress as comfortable as he could as he prepared for sleep before another day of misery began. Known for his distinctive appearance and habit of talking to himself, Floki was lean and agile. His wild, light brown hair added to his chaotic persona, made worse by the intricate dragon carved into the left side of his head, which ran from his neck up past the back of his ear and ended at his temple. His dark blue eyes, cold and haunted, unnerved most people. Added to this, Floki also rubbed charcoal under his eyes, enhancing his mysterious look and encouraging others to keep their distance from the 'mad shipbuilder.'

Once, he was the son of a master shipbuilder from a distant land he no longer remembered. One day, as Floki and his father were out at sea, testing the new ship that Floki's father had just finished, the pair were attacked by pirates; though only a boy of eight name days, Floki had put up a terrific fight alongside his father, but all for naught. His father was brutally killed by a slash to the throat, and his body was thrown carelessly into the sea soon after; Floki was quickly overcome after that and would have joined his father had the captain not stopped his men from killing the boy. Realizing that there was nothing of value on the ship, the pirate captain decided to take Floki instead, and the boy was forced to watch teary-eyed as his father's beautiful ship burned in the distance as the pirates sailed away with their prize.

For weeks, Floki's only view was a never-ending ocean as he was fed just enough to keep him alive; finally, when Floki began to believe that he would never see land again, the city of Myr appeared on the horizon. But upon landing, Floki realized that he should have prayed to remain at sea; quickly sold, Floki's life became one of constant pain and humiliation as he was quickly sold to a fat merchant within the city and forced to obey the man's every whim, no matter how degrading.

From being used as the man's personal 'fan boy' to keep the man cool during the hottest parts of the day, to cleaning out the man's disgusting bedpan. Any hint of stubbornness was quickly beaten out of the boy by the cruel merchant, who seemed to take great pleasure in watching Floki's back laid open with a whip, often not stopping the punishment until Floki passed out from the pain.

When Floki had turned twelve, the fat merchant had caught the boy drawing images of boats and recreating the ship that his father had made so long ago; at first, the merchant was enraged at the boy for daring to steal paper from him to waste on 'useless doodling,' and had Floki permanently marred for the theft, by carving an intricate dragon into the left side of the boy's skull. This type of punishment was reserved for only those slaves who had greatly enraged their masters so that all would know that they were 'the worst sort of slave.'

Soon afterward, however, the merchant came to the realization that Floki had much potential despite being a lowly slave. He'd quickly hired the boy out to other shipbuilders in order to 'gift the boy with more experience in order to increase his resale value,' and Floki had soaked up everything that he was taught like a sponge soaking up water in the desert.

For ten long years, Floki had learned everything he could from his teachers about shipbuilding, from what was the best type of wood to use, to how thick to make the hull; even the most immaterial and esoteric intricacies of shipbuilding, that no one else seemed to deem important, Floki would study until he knew them like the back of his hand.

Throughout those ten years, Floki's reputation as a madman would be cemented in the minds of most of Myr. Often, when learning something new about shipbuilding or looking over the blueprints for a new ship, Floki would talk to himself as he sought some way to make the ship even better than it already was. When the solution would finally present itself, Floki would begin giggling to himself, which seemed to unnerve those around Floki even more.

Those ten years were perhaps the happiest of Floki's life, or as happy as the life of a slave could be, and despite Floki's reputation as a madman, his reputation as an incredible shipbuilder was even greater.

But then, Floki made an incredibly costly error; he approached his master with plans for a new type of ship that would move faster through the water, hoping to secure funds to make his dream a reality. Instead, Floki had watched as his master had ripped the plans to shreds as the fat merchant sneered in derision, telling Floki, 'There was no need for new ships when the old design had served Myr well for centuries.'

After over a decade of having his master control every aspect of his life, this final insult proved to be too much for the shipbuilder to bear, and for the first time in his life, Floki struck back. Before the merchant knew what was happening, Floki's hands were around the man's neck; a savage jerk later, the man was dead with a broken neck, and Floki was staring down in panic.

Knowing the fate of slaves who dared to kill their masters, Floki knew he had to figure out a way to cover this up before the merchant's guards came in to check on their master. Quickly grabbing a nearby jug of wine, Floki had hastily poured the contents down the merchant's throat and on his robes before dragging the man outside and throwing him over the balcony.

Though all the evidence pointed towards the man getting drunk and falling from his balcony, the merchant's wife still was suspicious of Floki's involvement and quickly exacted her own form of petty revenge on him by selling him to the worst slave master she could find on the docks. The once revered and respected shipbuilder was now used only as a pack animal; no longer allowed to actively take part in the building of Myr's magnificent fleet, he was instead used to load and unload cargo from the incoming merchant ships, or else, help repair the ships that had been damaged due to storms or pirate raids.

That had been Floki's life for five years now, five years of being denied that one thing that had made him truly happy in a life of pain and misery. Gone in a fit of madness, all because he had lost control one time, but that one time had been enough to take everything he had left.

Yet, as Floki laid his head down on the straw and tried to force his mind to stop so that he could have a few blessed hours of sleep before he had to return to the ship he'd been tasked with repairing, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was coming. What that 'something' was, Floki had no idea, but the feeling was there all the same, like a buzzing, itching gnat that wouldn't leave him be.

With a tired sigh, Floki put the thought out of his mind and closed his eyes; dawn would be here in a few hours, and he had work to do if he wanted to make sure the ship he'd been tasked with repairing was done on schedule. Floki had no wish for another visit with the whip should he fail to meet his new master's expectations.

XXXX

Meera stood silently beside her grandmother, the two staring between Kratos' back, and the city of Myr that lay within eyesight, perhaps no more than five miles away; behind Meera, more than a hundred women and children were also standing in a large huddled mass, all equally silent as they awaited word of what their god would do.

The previous night, as she and a few others had helped Kratos skin and clean the body of the large bear that had arrived with him, Meera had asked about the Spartans of Kratos' homeland; for several moments, the god had said nothing, and Meera had mentally prepared to have her request denied. But then, Kratos began to tell Meera and the others about the former King of Sparta, Leonidas, who led three hundred of his Spartans brothers against the hordes of Persia, who sought to conquer Greece and enslave it to their rule.

Throughout the tale, Meera found herself enthralled in awe at the strength and courage of Leonidas and his Spartans, who managed to hold the gates of Thermopylae for three long days against thousands of Persian warriors. And she wasn't the only one. As Kratos continued to tell of how Leonidas and his warriors fought with the ferocity of true Spartans, his hands continuing to skin the bear with the efficiency of one who had done it a dozen times before, more of Meera's people began to group around the god, listening with awe at the courage of Leonidas and his bold three hundred, until, at last, all were listening with rapt attention as Kratos spoke.

Meera's awe was raised even further at the end of Kratos' tale when he told of how, at the end of the battle, Leonidas and his Spartans were betrayed by a fellow Greek, which allowed the Persians to get behind them, completely surrounding the heavily outnumbered Spartan army. But, rather than retreat, the Spartans had chosen to stand and fight, selling their lives dearly and buying their fellow Greeks more time to prepare for the Persians by killing ten for every one Spartan that fell. He'd then told the awestruck crowd of how the Persians were eventually defeated and driven back to Persia by a coalition of nearly all the Greek city-states, who, though ordinarily at odds with one another, had banded together in defense of sacred Greece, and through this alliance had managed to save her from falling under the yoke of Persia.

At the end of Kratos' tale, the listening crowd stood in shock, tears running down many a woman's face as they bowed their heads in respect for Leonidas and his fallen brothers. This tale, however, only seemed to cement Meera's desire to earn the right to call herself a Spartan one day, to stand alongside men like King Leonidas and his brave three hundred who had managed to survive for three days against thousands of Persians. True, they had been defeated in the end, but that defeat had not come from the Spartans being overrun, but rather due to treachery, and if not for that filthy traitor selling his brothers out to Persia, Meera would have placed a heavy bet on the Spartans coming out of the battle victorious.

That night, as Meera ate her portion of the bear that Kratos had prepared for his people, Meera's resolve was hardened stronger than a Valyrian blade; no matter what she had to endure in the future, no matter how hard Kratos was in teaching her his ways, she WOULD earn the right to call herself a Spartan.

As Meera tore her gaze from Kratos back to the far-off city of Myr, she felt that same resolve stir within her again; Myr had no idea what was coming, but the world would never be the same by the day's end.

XXXX

Kratos growled lowly to himself as he stared at the far-off city of Myr, his bulging arms crossed over his chest. The city was eerily reminiscent of Athens from his homeland. For a moment, Kratos mentally chuckled at the irony of his plans to destroy a city that bore such a striking similarity to Athens when, in another life, Kratos had battled another god of war to save Athens from destruction.

As Kratos continued to analyze the city before him, his mind went into overdrive as he tried to find a weakness. An enormous wall surrounded the city, made of what appeared to be white stone, the same color as the long winding road that stretched across the fertile green grassland and led away from the city. Like Athens, Myr was situated on a coastline, and Kratos could see dozens of ships both exiting and entering the walled harbor. Trade ships that were no doubt taking Myr's treasures to the rest of the world, or else bringing the world's treasures to Myr.

The longer he stared at the city, the more Kratos began to realize that though he held no animosity towards the city, beyond his disgust for the slave trade practiced there, as well as the men and women who benefitted from it, Myr would make the perfect place to create the new city of Sparta. It was a center of trade, easily defendable from both land and sea, and could easily be transformed in a matter of years into the image of Sparta that Kratos held in his mind. The only question was how to take it without destroying the city, which would require many years of hard work to rebuild it.

The people behind him were not warriors, not yet at least; they would be, in time. But for now, they were all but useless to him, and as such, Kratos would have to take the city alone. With a grimace, Kratos closed his eyes and breathed deeply, feeling the well of power that resided within him; he had been shocked upon waking that morning to discover that his already impressive power had nearly tripled in the night, with no explanation as to how.

His only guess was the power of the belief that the people he had saved held for him; even as he slept, he was still aware of everything that was happening around him. Every prayer to him, veneration, and ounce of worship sent his way was like a constant unending buzzing in his mind that sought to drive him mad and yet made him feel more powerful than he had felt since his days as the Olympian god of war.

Slowly opening his eyes, Kratos looked up toward the sky, wanting to test his new power; to his surprise, nature seemed to obey his unspoken command as the sky darkened. Thunderclouds as black as night began to appear overhead. At the same time, the people behind him watched with awe. The only indication the event was also shocking to Kratos was the slight twitch of his brow as he watched the once sunny sky darken in mere moments as violent flashes of light ripped across the once peaceful sky.

"Hmmm," Kratos growled softly, causing Meera and her grandmother to turn to look at him,

"My lord? Kara asked, "Have you an idea on how to take the city?"

"Perhaps…" Kratos growled, "How many slaves did you say resided within Myr?"

"No one knows, my lord," Meera's grandmother responded, "As I said, the official tally is three slaves for every freeborn."

"And where are the majority kept?"

"In the slave pens," Kara replied scornfully, "In the southernmost part of the city. I saw them once as a young woman. Once was enough."

"Interesting…" Kratos replied, running a hand under his beard as a fierce wind suddenly joined the black sky.

Suddenly, a plan began to form in Kratos' head, and he smirked unseen beneath his beard before turning back to the watching crowd; a torrential rain began to pour down at this point, yet, to the surprise of all, not one of Kratos' people seemed to be getting wet; something that made many of the watchers laugh out in shock and delight.

"Kara, I have a task for you…"

"Anything, my lord," Kara said at once,

As Kratos told the old woman his plan, Kara couldn't help but smile at what her god had planned. There was no doubt in her mind that it would work, and it would catch the defenders of Myr completely by surprise.

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Author's Note:

I'm not gonna lie, I was caught off guard by how many followers this story gained so quickly; I didn't realize I had tapped into a market so many enjoyed, lol.

In the next chapter, Myr will be destroyed, and I will do my absolute best to make it as amazing as I can. As seen in the last chapter, the worship that Kratos is receiving from his people is already on its way to making him stronger, so what do you think will happen when that number is multiplied by several thousand? I decided to add Floki to this story because the day will one day come when Sparta will sail to Westeros, and who better to build the boats they will need than my personal favorite mad shipbuilder? I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and if not, tell me what I can do to improve the next one.