Themis shook her head humbly, her gaze turning toward her companion with even greater respect.
"Compared to your breadth and depth, I am merely a trivial introducer."
"And in reality, truth itself is my teacher."
Samael quickly waved his hand. Faced with a true master of law, he naturally dared not posture, and half-jokingly complained.
"Let's not call it teacher. As friends, sharing ideas is much more relaxed—and far less lacking."
"After all, a student like you is impossible to teach. You're far too clever."
The goddess of justice smiled serenely, radiating elegance and poise, as she reached forward with a graceful hand and teased in return.
"Then, I look forward to your guidance from now on, my friend."
Samael laughed freely and shook hands with this hidden master, their relationship taking another step forward.
After discerning Themis's identity, the ancient serpent played to her interests, introducing the early seeds of natural law—destined to flourish in Greece centuries later—during their leisure games of chess.
Of course, to present these concepts convincingly in the Age of Gods, Samael had prepared extensively.
He drew from Solon's reforms, which declared, "Laws are made for all, without distinction of person; all are equal before the law, so that each may receive their due," to discuss the ideas of codified law and judicial equality.
From Plato's "philosopher-king" and rule by the wise, he shifted to weighing the pros and cons of cultivating professional jurists versus relying on public referendums swayed by emotion.
From Aristotle's assertion that the rule of law surpasses the rule of man, he explored where exactly law's superiority lies.
...
Yet ideas alone could not serve as references for arbitration.
Thus, Samael also brought forward specific legal provisions during their daily tea discussions, presenting half while leaving Themis to refine and systematize the other half.
To highlight loopholes and exploitable gaps through debate, Samael more than once played the role of "The outlaw who defies justice."
Naturally, the examples he cited were chosen with care, avoiding concepts too far ahead of their time.
The Roman Twelve Tables, sharing roots with Greek jurisprudence, and the early codes of Mesopotamia all became topics of their debates.
And Samael himself had the rare experience of serving nearly a year as king of Uruk, granting him deep familiarity with Sumerian law—knowledge that would later shape the Code of Ur-Nammu and the Code of Hammurabi.
After all, he had once escaped judgment before Gilgamesh by exploiting those very legal loopholes.
For months, the two sparred fiercely in debate, each time parting with satisfaction.
Themis triumphed in sharp intuition and innate brilliance, while Samael wielded sly cunning for finding loopholes and a breadth of knowledge far beyond the age.
The contest between the goddess of justice and the outlaw was nothing short of spectacular.
...
As one such lively arbitration ended, Themis, greatly enriched, tidied the parchment where she had recorded her insights.
Yet nearing the final notes, her thoughts lingered on the tragedy of the Mycenaean queen and prince. Regret crept into her voice as she murmured.
"To prevent such tragedies, private vengeance must be forbidden. The brutal act of taking a life should be punished by penalties decreed by the gods."
To deny the legitimacy of private revenge and vest judgment in a "divine court" akin to a state?
Indeed, such an arrangement could curb the spread of violence and bring stability.
A beautiful idea—but...
Samael pursed his lips, shook his head, and gave Themis a long, meaningful look.
"If the gods are to judge, then who will determine whether they are fit to uphold the law?"
Themis started, immediately understanding his meaning.
The Titans of Mount Othrys were hardly paragons of virtue. Judged by true law, most of them would be sentenced to death outright.
Rulers who ran rampant at whim—what right had they to judge others in the name of justice, when their own sins outweighed the accused?
And as the goddess of justice herself, she could not claim the authority to try her brothers and sisters. At most, she could speak a few words of fairness, nothing more.
A wave of helplessness washed over her. She whispered softly.
"Then is it truly impossible to establish order through justice and law?"
Samael gave a small shake of his head, then smiled lightly to console her.
"Don't dwell on it. Your ideas are far ahead of this age."
"By the primal nature of Titan blood, it is easier to silence the source of problems than to resolve the problems themselves."
"The so-called law cannot restrain the essence of this age. It must bend to its times."
"And besides, the gods are busy. They have no time to meddle in mortal disputes."
"In short, arbitrate when necessary, offering solutions within your power. If unnecessary—don't seek trouble."
"That is what 'no complaint, no judgment' means."
Enlightenment dawned across Themis's expression. From behind the black veil, her gaze held newfound admiration and warmth.
"With your talent, I believe you should go to the palace of the goddess of justice, become her attendant, and practice law and fairness."
Here we go again. Another one wanting me to play judge? Do I really look so stern and righteous?
Samael instinctively raised a hand to his cheek, a strange thought flickering through him with a wry sigh.
Then the ancient serpent leaned forward, hands pressed to the table, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial whisper at her ear.
"Actually, I'm far better suited to being an outlaw—one who slips through the gaps in the rules!"
Why be a judge? Being an outlaw is far more enjoyable.
A villain must have the refinement of a villain!
But as he drew back, ready to savor her reaction, what he saw instead froze him in place.
A crimson blush bloomed across Themis's ears, rapidly flooding her cheeks with intoxicating color. Samael's heart lurched into a frantic rhythm.
Only then did he realize how ambiguous—how outright irreverent—his action had been.
After so long together, he had somehow forgotten that this was no ordinary maiden to tease, but one of the Twelve Titans of Mount Othrys.
A single wrong word, a single wrong gesture, could mean death.
Not even Tiamom could save him now.
"Aaa?"
Just as the heat on Themis's face reached its peak and the tension seemed ready to burst, a clear, curious syllable suddenly broke the charged silence.
Tina's pure and innocent face appeared between them.
"Hungry, aren't you? I'll go find you something to eat."
Samael turned, gently stroking the soft hair at the back of the young goddess's head. Speaking softly, he took Tina's hand and led her toward the nearby forest.
Thank you, Tiamom, for saving my life! Tiamom is the best!
...
(50 Chapters Ahead)
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