Sparta (Formerly Myr) 291 AC-

Meera Shae sighed happily as she sunk her exhausted body into the warm bath, reveling in the heat that seemed to sink into her very bones. Even as she closed her eyes and felt her tired muscles begin to relax, Meera was aware of dozens of other women who were likewise enjoying the bath, or else lounging on nearby benches and gossiping with their fellow citizens.

So much had changed in the year-and-a-half since Kratos had liberated the city of Myr and renamed it Sparta, that sometimes Meera couldn't believe they had actually happened, and fully expected to awaken any time now to find her parents still alive, and Kratos nothing more than a dream.

The first thing that Kratos had done upon conquering Myr was to inform every slave within the city that they were now free and could stay and help rebuild the city, or leave and find their fortune elsewhere, as they wished. To the surprise of none, every single man, woman, and child had kneeled before the god and proclaimed their desire to stay and help him build the newly named city of Sparta.

The biggest surprise, at least to Meera at any rate, was when over a hundred Unsullied had marched through the crowd, causing many to tense as they expected the men to attack the god, only for them to drop their spears and kneel before Kratos. The leader had then risen and thanked Kratos, with tears in his eyes, for returning his manhood to him, and swore to serve the god until the end of the leader's days as payment.

Unsurprisingly, Kratos had simply shaken his head and told the man that he owed Kratos nothing, nor did anyone else in Myr for that matter. Kratos was not interested in freeing the slaves in Myr, only for them to become slaves again, even if it was willingly. That seemed to be the correct response for the citizens had loudly proclaimed that they would never be slaves again, but they would follow their new god to the ends of the earth, all the same. Meera had nearly laughed out loud at the annoyed look that had crossed Kratos' face at that, and only sheer force of will had stopped her; that, and her grandmother's raised brow, that promised punishment should Meera forget herself in such a serious moment.

After that, Kratos showed just how powerful a god he truly was when he had every single Unsullied step forward; one-by-one, Kratos touched each man on the head causing him to scream in agony before collapsing to the ground from the pain, only to rise a few moments later with looks of awe on their faces as they realized what Kratos had done to them, while the stunned crowd watched.

After nearly an entire day of this, every single Unsullied had been restored from a simple touch on the head, and they had immediately swore an oath of loyalty to Kratos until the end of their days. The first few days after that were perhaps the bloodiest that Meera had ever seen as the slaves took vindictive pleasure in slaughtering their former masters, something that Kratos allowed for a time, with the express order that children were to be left untouched. For four long days, slave owners, both male and female, were dragged to large wooden platforms that their former slaves had constructed, and executed before the cheering crowds.

On the fifth day, Kratos had seemingly had his fill of blood and ordered the executions to cease. The incredibly small number of 'freeborn' that remained alive by this point were all thrown from the city's gates and told to never return. Given that they were denied food or water, and the nearest city was nearly a week's walk, none expected them to survive the trek. Once the city had been completely cleared of all the former 'masters' of the city, Kratos ordered every single scrap of wealth within the city brought to him; when the work was done, a towering pile of gold and jewels stood before the awestruck crowd, who had never seen such riches before in their entire lives. Kratos, however, scowled at the affluence that he beheld, with barely concealed disgust at how rich Myr had become from the blood of a thousand generations.

He had immediately declared the riches the property of Sparta, proclaiming that every coin and jewel would be placed in the city's vault and that all of it would go to making the city a better place for his new people. In a single day, Sparta's treasury had grown large enough to sustain itself for a thousand years without ever needing to trade with any other city, if need be.

After that, the real work began as Kratos led the efforts to rebuild the city; however, to the surprise of all, Kratos had decreed that it would not be rebuilt in the image of Myr, but rather in the image of Sparta, the city which Myr had officially become. The many manses of the freeborn were torn down, as were the many temples to the multitudes of different gods that had once been as ubiquitous with Myr as its slave population. Kratos had tried to argue against this, saying the people didn't need to tear down the temples, as he had no wish to make them forget the gods of their ancestors, but the people had simply shouted him down, saying that they had no need for the temples anymore when they had a true god to worship, rather than ones who had never answered their prayers, and allowed them to remain in bondage.

Against the roar of a hundred thousand voices, Kratos had no choice but to allow the people to do what they wished, even if it annoyed him to no end. With each torn-down building, something new and better took its place, making Myr, now Sparta, even grander than she ever was before; aqueducts to bring fresh water to the city, a new sewage system that helped clean away the filth and stink, gymnasiums, libraries, healing centers. But perhaps best of all were the bathhouses. Declaring it mandatory for all citizens of Sparta to bathe regularly to not only keep sickness away, but also to keep themselves from stinking, Kratos had ordered more than a dozen bathhouses built across the city, all of which were free to any citizen of Sparta who wished to use them. Each bathhouse was the same, made with pure white stone, and containing half a dozen large baths, both hot and cold, as well as a steam room to relax in, should one desire to do so.

Those who had been trained in how to operate their master's bathhouses were placed in charge of maintaining the newly built ones, with the only difference being that now they were being paid to do so, rather than forced. Six months later, the city of Myr had been completely transformed, and unless one knew what the city looked like before, one would never have guessed that Spart and Myr had once been the same city. Hundreds of new buildings spread throughout Sparta, all built using the same style of white marble and towering columns that Kratos had called 'Greek architecture.'

The largest of these buildings was still under construction, built in what was once the slave market, where so many had their lives and futures stolen from them; the old tower that was once the slave pen had been completely obliterated and in its place, the citizens of Sparta had built a monumental temple of the purest marble that could be found, and dedicated it to their new god, to Kratos.

Kratos had at first refused to allow the temple to be built, declaring that he would reduce it to rubble should the citizens build it. God, though he may be, he had no wish for his new people to bow and scrape to him, Spartans were above such demeaning forms of devotion. Only when Meera's grandmother had taken the god aside and spoken to him had he finally relented and allowed the temple to be built; however, he had made sure that the citizens knew that while he would allow the temple to be built, he still had no wish for them to bow and debase themselves in his name. If they wanted to be Spartans, then they had to act like it, not like the slaves they had once been. No one knew just what Meera's grandmother had said, but all were thankful for changing Kratos' mind, and many were now viewing her as their god's high priestess as a result.

Day and night, the best sculptors and architects worked on the temple to ensure that it would not only last for many generations to come, but also that it would stand as a monument to the god who had come and set them all free. Even after a year, it was still far from complete, but when it was finally finished, Meera knew that it would be an awe-inspiring piece of architecture that many would travel the world to see.

However, a month after Kratos had freed Myr, an army had arrived on their doorstep, sent by the two remaining cities of the Triarchy, Lys, and Tyrosh, to conquer Myr and return it to how it was before Kratos had freed it. Nearly twenty ships filled with mercenaries had sailed toward Sparta intending to kill all those who resisted and return the survivors to slavery.

Meera had expected a large-scale battle to take place, but instead had watched in awe as Kratos simply waved his hand and created an incredibly powerful storm that destroyed nearly every ship and sent the few remaining ones running back home. Since then, Lys and Tyrosh had seemingly decided on a change of strategy and Meera had heard that they had sent out a call for every available mercenary to come to their city to be trained for the upcoming war against the newly dubbed city of Sparta. If the rumors were to be believed, the two cities had gotten their wish as nearly twenty thousand mercenaries had flocked to them in the last year, with more coming every day; which was why Kratos began the next phase of his plan to transform Myr into Sparta.

Once the majority of the city had been rebuilt, then came the next task that Kratos viewed as vitally important: transforming his people into true Spartans.

Ordering every single citizen to present themselves to him, Kratos had carefully inspected them all, examining them from every angle with a careful eye as he noted those who would be eligible for service in Sparta's army and those who would serve her in other ways. After over a week of this, Kratos had finally separated those who would be warriors from those who would serve Sparta in a different capacity, such as blacksmiths, healers, traders, etc.

Even after making his decision, Meera was shocked to see that the number of citizens ordered to the Spartan army had easily reached over ten thousand. Meera was sure that Kratos would have balked at having to teach so many, his ways, but to the surprise of all, it seemed he actually relished the challenge. The smirk that he had given that day still brought a chill to Meera whenever she remembered it. The Unsullied, after learning just what Kratos expected of them, had been placed in charge of training the children between the ages of eight and eleven, everyone else was taught by Kratos himself.

Despite her excitement about learning how to fight like a Spartan, Meera quickly learned that any romantic ideas of glory should be put out of her head; Kratos' training was as hard as the man himself, and he would not tolerate any weakness, no matter the age or gender of the offender. For the first three months, Meera had simply been one of thousands who were forced six days a week, at dawn, to run to a large marble pillar that Kratos had built, five miles from the city. Not used to such strenuous activity, Meera had spent the first month of her training in abject misery, and more than once had thrown up her breakfast as she gasped for air, alongside thousands of others.

Once the men and women reached the pillar, Kratos had each of them form companies with twenty-man fronts, and each was given a large, heavy shield, and an equally large and heavy spear; then, they were ordered to practice the same maneuvers repeatedly until they could perform them by sheer muscle memory. Again, and again, Meera and the others were forced to stand in neat rows and move between interlocking their shields defensively, to wielding the harmless 'sticks' that Kratos had given them in place of real spears, as one cohesive unit. At first, Meera had been one of a multitude who questioned why they were learning what Kratos had called 'the phalanx,' when the traditional battle was to charge forward and kill as many of your enemies as you could.

The answer had come several days later when one foolish individual had asked exactly that, only for Kratos to order ten men and women, the fool who asked the question among them, to step forward. Once they had done so, he ordered them to interlock their shields as they had been taught; upon doing so, Kratos had ordered another fifty men and women forward and ordered them to attack the phalanx. To the surprise of all, the ten had managed to withstand the charge almost effortlessly and when the fifty had worn themselves out, those ten had found themselves just as strong and ready to fight as before.

"That's why Spartans use the phalanx," Kratos had growled, "Because the phalanx is what built Sparta her empire. One unbreakable brotherhood of shields." And in that moment, Meera and the others knew just what Kratos was teaching them; by creating one impenetrable wall of shields and spears, Kratos was effectively creating an army that would be virtually unstoppable. The hardest thing that Kratos had tried to impart to those learning, however, was to conquer their fear and not run and thereby break the phalanx.

Kratos had warned them all on the first day that if they wanted to call themselves Spartans then they would have to earn the right, and he would not allow any cowards or weaklings to shame his people's name. On one of the first mock battles that Kratos had forced those learning to perform, several had dropped their shields when the charging group approached and ran.

Kratos had the individuals stripped in front of the watching others and given ten strikes to the back with the wooden sticks that they used as their spears; he then told them that this was their last chance. They were no longer slaves and could leave if they wished, but if they stayed then they could not run again; doing so in battle would cause the phalanx to crumble and thereby cause their fellow warriors to be killed without mercy. Such a dishonorable action was unbecoming of a Spartan, and if they could not conquer their fear, then they had no place in his army. Risking the disappointment of their god had seemed a far worse fate than death, it would seem, for no one had run since then, though Meera had been sorely tempted a few times.

After six hours of drill, the men and women would then run back to the city with their spears and shields, a strenuous task the likes of which Meera had never encountered before. Upon reaching the city, the men and women would drop their equipment to the ground, where they would be loaded into carts to be taken back to the pillar, the next morning, where the whole process would begin again.

Once they had safely dropped off their equipment, they would move to another training yard, this one inside the city, where they would be given wooden swords that were twice as heavy as a real one would be. This was to build up their strength, so that when the day came that they were issued real equipment, they would actually have the ability to use it, rather than save their enemy the effort, and do themselves an injury.

For three hours, Meera and the others would repeat the same movements over-and-over again, just as they did with their phalanx training, until they achieved muscle memory; only allowed to stop for fifteen minutes every hour. Anyone who stopped before Kratos gave permission would find him behind them in an instant roaring into their ear to keep going; how he managed to keep an eye on so many at once was anyone's guess, but somehow, he managed it. When the end finally, and blessingly came, the men and women would stack their weapons back on the racks in the training yard, and head to the final part of their training for the day: learning to read and write.

For the final three hours of every day, Meera and the others were forced to sit together in a large open area, while hundreds of 'learned men' attempted to teach them literacy. At first, many didn't understand why Kratos was demanding they learn to read and write,

"A warrior's mind needs to be just as sharp as his blade," Kratos had growled to those who dared question his order, "Any fool can swing a blade, but it takes far more skill to outthink your opponent than to stab him."

Even the most stubborn could see the logic in Kratos' argument, and within three months Sparta had achieved something that no other city in Essos could claim: nearly every single one of its citizens could read.

When finally released for the day, the multitude of bathhouses in Sparta would become choked by the thousands who wanted nothing more than to wash themselves and relax before heading home for the night, eager to sleep before the whole thing started again the next day.

This had become Meera's life, six days a week for the last year; on the seventh day, the men and women were free to do whatever they wished, but many of them spent the day recovering from the unbearable training routine that their god was putting them through. A few of the more dedicated, or insane, depending on who you asked, would use their day off to train even harder at one of the city's many gymnasiums; wrestling in the soft sand that made up the floor.

After a year of the same routine, Meera and the others had built up an incredible level of stamina, that few would have believed themselves capable of before; they could now run the entire five miles without stopping once, and only the few who had aged out of the Unsullied's training and had joined Kratos' group were now forced to stop during the run back at the end of the day, though each day was bringing them closer to being equal to those who had been with Kratos from the start.

They could also move as one cohesive unit, seamlessly moving from one formation to another without even having to think of it, the moment that Kratos screamed out the order. Their strength, too, had grown in the year since their training had begun; their bodies had become hard and lean under Kratos' grueling training regimen, and the fat from their bodies had been quickly replaced with muscle; on more than one occasion, Meera had stared at her reflection in shock, unable to separate the powerful women she was becoming from the scared girl she had once been.

As she slowly opened her eyes, Meera gazed around at the other women who, like her, were all enjoying the heat of the bath. For over a year now, Meera and the others had done nothing but train to bring glory and honor to Sparta, and to ensure that when the armies of the Triarchy finally arrived, they would all leave in pieces. Yet, even after a year of training, of pushing her body to its absolute limit, she and the others had STILL not been given their armor, or any real weapons for that matter! It was maddening! Meera trusted Kratos and knew that he would give them to her and the others when he felt they were ready; but all the same, it still hurt that after a year, her god still refused to allow them to train with real weapons.

With an aggravated sigh, Meera rose from the hot water and made her way to the steam room, the water dripping from her naked body as she strode towards where she heard voices talking, hoping the heat would burn away her growing impatience.

XXXX

Under an unusually large tree that sat atop a hill overlooking the city of Sparta, Kratos was seated, eyes closed, as his thoughts raced and raged with all the fury of a storm. It had been nearly two years since Kratos had been sent to this new world with no indication of who had sent him here or for what purpose. In those two years, he had conquered a city, freed its slave population, and begun to fashion them into an army that the Sparta of old would have been proud of. They still had a long way to go before they could actually call themselves Spartans, they hadn't even seen a real battle, and until they did, until he knew for certain that they would not break in the face of the horrors of war, they would never truly be able to call themselves Spartans.

That time was fast approaching, it would seem; for many weeks now, Kratos had been receiving word from his scouts that the army that Tyrosh and Lys had spent the last year assembling was nearly ready to make its way toward Kratos' city. He could very easily defeat them all himself, his powers had made such a thing quite easy, but he had no intention of using them. When the Triarchy's army arrived, Kratos would send his Spartans out to face them, giving them their first true test, and seeing if they were worthy of bearing his people's name, or if he had spent the last year wasting his time.

Slowly opening his eyes, Kratos stared down at the city that lay beneath him, as he felt the power within him that rested just below the surface, just waiting to be unleashed.

Truth be told, the power that Kratos held, scared him at times, he felt more powerful than he had ever felt in his life, even when he was the Olympian god of war, he never had this much power at his disposal, and once again he wondered just how he had become so powerful so quickly. Almost two years ago he had unleashed a storm of lightning on Myr that had nearly razed the entire city to the ground, then he had created a tidal wave with the wave of his hand that had destroyed a veritable armada of invading ships; how was he able to do these things?

He had been a god once before, but his dominion had been war, and even with all the wars happening in Greece at the same time, he had never commanded such power as he did here in this world. And that was why he was wary of it. His father had been the king of Olympus, powerful beyond belief, and had ruled for millennia; but all that power had given Zeus a monstrous level of arrogance, and worse made Zeus afraid of losing his power to the point where he committed an entire plethora of atrocities to ensure that none ever challenged him. In the end, Zeus' fears were justified as his crimes had resulted in his death at the hands of his own son.

Kratos sighed softly as the memory of that fateful battle came back to him, of the monster that had destroyed all of Greece for no other reason than his own anger and lust for revenge against his father. A philosopher from Greece, whose name Kratos no longer remembered, had once said that all power corrupts eventually, and absolute power corrupts even quicker.

Was that his fate? To become the same monster that he had been in the past? To become a mere shadow of his father Zeus? Kratos had come a long way to freeing himself from the shackles of the man he once was, but there was always the danger of falling back onto old habits, of returning to old ways. Uncrossing his arms from over his chest, Kratos rubbed his left hand over the scars on his right arm, feeling where the Blades of Chaos once were attached. Even now, the memory of the monster he once was threatened to disturb the peace he was feeling, as the sky above him began to darken with storm clouds.

Releasing a weary sigh, Kratos slowly raised himself to his feet and willed the clouds away, once again bringing out the sun as he crossed his arms back over his chest and stared down at Sparta.

"I will be better, Faye…" Kratos whispered, not knowing if his wife's spirit could even hear him in this far-off land, "I swear it…"

"My lord!" A voice suddenly called out, making Kratos sigh in irritation as he realized that his peaceful day was at an end, "My lord Kratos!"

"What is it?" Kratos demanded as he turned to where Kara was climbing the hill towards him, quite effortlessly despite her advanced age.

"One of our scouts has returned, my lord," Kara replied as she stood before him, "He reports that the army of the Triarchy has departed. They will be here in less than a week."

"Hmmm," Kratos growled as he rubbed his chin, "Then the time has come for our army's first true test…"

"They will not fail you, my lord," Kara assured her god, "I can promise you that."

"Then you are a fool," Kratos sneered, "There can be no such promises in war. Even the most seasoned army can be defeated, and ours hasn't even seen a battle yet."

"They fear disappointing you far more than any army from the Triarchy," Kara replied in a tone that brokered no argument, "And you have given them a year to prepare themselves, my lord. I promise you that by the end of this battle, the whole world will know and fear the name of Sparta."

"We shall see…" Kratos replied, staring down at his city one last time before turning and making his way down the hill, Kara marching resolutely behind him.

XXXX

Author's Note:

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and if not, please tell me what I can do better in the next one. I tried to make Myr, now Sparta, look how I think a city in Ancient Greece would look, complete with marble buildings and a large temple to their new god, Kratos. I hope I did it justice. In the next battle, the whole world will learn the name of Sparta, and I hope you all enjoy what I come up with.