Kratos walked purposefully through the large hall, the sound of a hundred hammers banging away echoing around him in a constant cacophony of grunts and labor.
The 'Hall of Hephaestus' as it was called had been one of the first things constructed by Kratos after he conquered the city of Myr and renamed it Sparta; the hall, which could more be compared to an open field, was nearly four hundred feet from one end to the other and surrounded by a fifteen foot stone wall of pure white marble that was tiled with dozens of red clay tiles, like many of the newly built buildings of Sparta.
Built specifically to house the cities blacksmiths, Kratos had been disgusted by the 'apprentice' system that Myr had employed before and had built the hall as a sort of school where those who wished to learn the art of metalworking could enroll and learn from hundreds of different masters of the trade, thereby significantly increasing their ability, rather than just learning from one person and stagnating their growth. An extensive pulley system had been built by Kratos himself, a marvel of engineering that Kratos explained had come from his homeland ages past, that allowed the roof to be closed during bad weather; however, seeing as how Kratos could control the weather with but a twitch, it was hardly ever used.
Even the hall's name had come directly from Kratos; one day, when the building was still being built, Kratos came to check on its progress and discovered two groups of blacksmiths arguing about what the building should be called once it was completed. Kratos watched with growing agitation for several minutes as the men and women bickered back and forth about what the building should be called when, finally, one lone blacksmith turned to Kratos and asked the god who had been the greatest blacksmith of his homeland. A sad expression had come across Kratos' face then, and he had looked away to a place none, but he could see before finally answering in a soft voice,
"His name was Hephaestus; he was the greatest metal worker who ever lived, but more than that, he was a good man who died trying to save the life of his daughter…"
A solemn silence descended upon the group then, until the blacksmith who had spoken looked up at Kratos with a determined expression and replied,
"Then that is what we will call this hall, in memory of the world's greatest blacksmith, but more than that, to honor a good man."
The roar of approval from the other blacksmiths had risen like that of a storm, and Kratos half expected the entire city to have heard the ruckus; he was half-tempted to veto the idea, for he had no wish to bring Olympus' gods to Essos, their time had passed as far as Kratos was concerned. Yet the look of adoration on his people's faces made the decision for him, and Kratos simply sighed and allowed them this victory.
Nearly eight months later, when it was finally complete, many agreed that the 'Hall of Hephaestus' was one of the most beautiful buildings in the city; made entirely of white marble, the entry-way stood nearly a dozen feet high, supported by half a dozen large white columns and had a statue of a large blacksmith at work before an anvil, made entirely of black ebony stone, with his hammer held high and a regal look of intense concentration upon his face.
The first fifty feet inside the building was cool and shaded by the roof, with half a dozen individual classrooms on either side where new students would learn before moving on to hands-on training. Past fifty feet, the building opened into an enormous open area, surrounded by hundreds of large marble columns where nearly a hundred blacksmiths could all work comfortably without fear of bumping into one another.
Seeing his target, Kratos quickened his pace as he approached a large, ebony-skinned blacksmith, bald with a large beard that ended just above his bare chest. Who was hard at work hammering away at something.
"Decker…" Kratos growled; his voice somehow managed to be heard, even above the unending noise surrounding him, causing the man to stop his work as he turned to face Kratos.
"My lord," Decker replied with a bow, causing Kratos to frown,
"I've told you before, Decker…" Kratos said softly, only for the man to cut him off with a smile,
"I know, my lord. Spartans do not bow to anyone. You'll have to forgive me; too many years as a metal worker has ensured my memory is not what it once was…"
A ghost of a smile graced Kratos' face for a moment before it was gone. Decker put down his hammer, took off his leather apron, and hung it on the wall behind his station.
"It is time, Decker…" Kratos growled softly as the man turned back to face his god, his body gleaming with sweat from the heat of his forge; yet, as Kratos said those words, the blacksmith's eyes glowed with excitement. "Are they ready?"
"They are, my lord…" Decker smiled, "My men and I have spent the last eight months making as many as we could using the design you gave us."
"And their integrity?" Kratos demanded, crossing his arms over his bulging chest, "They need to do their job, not just make the bearer look good."
"I assure you, my lord," Decker replied, "Every man and woman here knows how important what they've made is to Sparta. And to our brothers and sisters who will bear them to war. They'll do their job. I'll wager my life on that, my lord."
"You would be wise to think before you speak…" Kratos rumbled as he looked down imperiously at the blacksmith. "For if your creation fails to do its job, your life is exactly what I will take as recompense."
Decker swallowed nervously at that before nodding that he understood, which Kratos returned a moment later.
"Take them to the training yard tonight," Kratos continued as he turned to leave. "I want them ready by dawn tomorrow when the troops return from their morning drills."
"It will be done, my lord," Decker replied with another bow, making Kratos sigh wearily before he turned to leave, the aged blacksmith smiling at his back.
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The next morning, when Meera and the others stepped into the training yard, they expected to see it empty, save for the heavy wooden swords that hung on their hooks on the wall.
Instead, to their collective shock, they saw thousands of bundles of red cloth, which lay in neat lines exactly where Meera and the others usually stood when they did their sword drills.
A moment later, Kratos stepped through the door on the opposite side of the training yard and crossed his bulging arms over his chest as he stared at the group with a frown.
"Well, what are you waiting for? Take your places!"
As one of the recruits began to walk towards the wall where her sword hung, Kratos suddenly spoke again, his growl echoing off the walls of the training yard and stopping the woman in her tracks.
"I did not say retrieve your weapon; I said take your place! Now, move!"
The collective group suddenly exploded into action as the discipline that Kratos had spent the last year-and-a-half beating into them took over; rushing forward in a mad scramble, they quickly took their place in the yard before slapping their hand to their side and standing at attention, eyes locked forward.
After a long look at the trainees, Kratos nodded satisfactorily before stepping forward. He stood before them, his arms locked behind his back as he gazed at the twelve thousand before him.
A moment later, Kara stepped up next to him, a look of immense pride on her weathered features as her eyes found her granddaughter's before she spoke in a firm voice that carried to every corner of the training field, with Kratos' help, of course.
"The time has come…"
Meera's eyes widened as she heard her grandmother's words, and she felt her pace quicken as she looked down for a moment at the large red bundle that rested at her feet, hardly daring to believe that it could be what she thought it might.
"This will be the last time I expect any of you to ever kneel again…" Kratos' voice rumbled out, "Now do so."
At once, all twelve thousand sunk down onto one knee and bowed their heads before Kratos, who looked down at Kara expectantly; at the unspoken signal, Kara raised her weathered hands to the sky and called out,
"Repeat after me: I swear to defend the city of Sparta with my life, to uphold her laws and the traditions of my ancestors, and to never yield in battle. I swear that my loyalty will only ever be given to Sparta, her people, and her god, Kratos. I vow to shield my brothers and sisters, stand strong in the face of danger, and fight with honor and courage. I will not falter, I will not flee, and I will not betray the trust of my fellow warriors nor the god of her people. I will be a warrior of Sparta, fierce and unyielding, and bring glory to my family and city. By the god of the Spartan people, I swear it!"
As twelve thousand voices called out as one, the ground shaking beneath them from the strength of their words, Kara felt as though her heart would burst with pride; when Kratos had given her the sacred duty of creating the oath of Sparta, the oath that all future generations would swear, she had accepted fully aware that she would need to create something truly magnificent. Something that would survive for hundreds, perhaps thousands of years. For the past years, she had devoted herself fully to that end, spending an uncountable number of hours poring over parchment as she tried to create something truly worthy of her god and his people who would one day be known the world over with awe and fear.
"You knelt as individual men and women…" Kratos rumbled, "Now rise… As Spartans."
As Meera rose to her feet, her legs shook, and she thought she might collapse as the true weight of her oath seemed to settle upon her; she was a Spartan and would remain so until the last breath left her body and she rejoined her family in Elysium.
"Now, you may unwrap the bundle at your feet," Kratos continued, an unseen smirk dancing on his lips as he watched the people before him kneel down to see what Kratos had brought them. A moment later, cries of delight echoed throughout the training yard as thousands gazed down in awe.
Within the red cloth lay a complete set of armor, including bracers, greaves, and a large helmet, all made from the same glowing silver metal that seemed to emit power all on its own.
As Meera bent down and picked up the helmet, she couldn't help but stare in awe at it as though it were the most valuable thing she had ever been given, which, to her, it was.
The helmet was made from the same silver metal as the rest of her armor. It featured an open face with a nose guard that created a Y pattern that would allow her to see while at the same time protecting her face and neck. But the thing that drew her gaze was the prominent omega symbol stamped in the direct center of the helm, just above the nose plate, the symbol of her god and the symbol that the whole world would know and fear one day.
"This armor is not yet yours…" Kratos rumbled, bringing attention back to him as the recruits stared in confusion, "You have yet to earn it. That will come when you have faced the army that the Triarchy has sent against us. When you have stood against them, and their bodies litter the ground while you stand victorious over them… Then that armor will truly be yours. But know this: When you wear that armor, I expect you to honor the name you bear with it. If you fall in battle, your armor will be burned with you and will accompany you to Elysium. But if you run, if you abandon your brothers and sisters to save yourself… I will have that armor stripped from your body, and you will be left for the crows."
A sense of foreboding yet determination fell upon the group. As Meera looked back down at the silver helmet clutched between her hands, she made a silent vow to herself and to her god that she would never run and that this armor would be with her when she died. Looking around, Meera could almost sense the same promise being made all around her and felt her heart swell with pride; these were her people, her fellow warriors, and together, they would make Sparta's name legendary.
"Tomorrow at dawn, you will return here dressed in full armor," Kratos rumbled, "And we shall march to war…"
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Author's Note:
I hope this chapter satisfies you all. I tried to make the Spartan armor look like it did in antiquity. Still, if you want to imagine how it might appear, you can Google 'Spartan Armor' and then imagine it in silver instead of bronze. The helmet is similar to the ones seen in 300, except in silver and with an Omega branded into the center. The oath that I had them make is one of my own creation, and it took me a while to perfect it; given that this is the oath that all Spartans will make for generations to come, I wanted something truly magnificent, but let me know how I did.
In the next chapter, we see how Sparta does in its first battle. Will they run? Or will they fight? Let's find out!
