The War Council
The dawn broke red over Thryon, painting the cliffs like spilled wine. Leontis summoned his captains,
the city's elders, and the priests of Athena to the great marble hall. Myron, his loyal commander, spread
a wax tablet showing the coastline.
"Three fleets - Theron of Sparta, Damas of Thessaly, Kypros the warlord," Myron said.
"Their ships will be in the bay before dusk."
Some elders urged negotiation. Others demanded the gates be sealed and the sacred grain stored in the citadel.
"Words will not stop a spear," Leontis answered calmly. "And hunger will not make cowards of lions."
Preparing the City
Thryon's narrow streets rang with the sound of hammers as smiths forged spearheads and arrowheads.
Women carried stones to the battlements; even children fetched water for the soldiers.
Priests burned incense at Athena's altar, calling for wisdom and courage.
On the cliffs, Leontis placed sentries with polished bronze mirrors to signal the fleet's movements.
The city was small, but its walls were Cyclopean - blocks of stone so massive that men whispered they
had been placed by gods, not mortals.
The Omen in the Harbor
By afternoon, black sails dotted the horizon like crows. Fishermen pulled their boats ashore and dragged them
into alleys to deny the invaders any landing craft.
An old priest of Poseidon came forward, trembling. "The sea god is angry," he said.
"Last night I cast wine into the surf, but the waves spat it back. Poseidon will favor those who honor him."
Leontis frowned. "Then we will honor him more than our enemies do." He ordered a great bull brought to the
cliff
altar and sacrificed it to Poseidon, praying the god of the sea would calm his wrath - or at least steer it
against Thryon's foes. The waves hissed as the blood ran into the water, but no sign came.
The First Assault
Before sunset, Theron's fleet drew close. Spartan marines in scarlet cloaks leaped into the shallows,
shields high, attempting to storm the narrow beach. Arrows rained down from Thryon's walls,
and rocks crashed upon their ranks. The first wave broke, leaving bodies on the sand.
But Leontis knew this was only a test - a probing strike, not the real assault.
The Secret Messenger
That night, as torches flickered along the battlements, a hooded figure slipped through the city gates.
It was Lykaon, a wandering bard who had once shared wine with Leontis.
"Three kings have sworn by Ares," Lykaon whispered. "They will not rest until Thryon burns.
But Damas of Thessaly distrusts the others. Strike there, and the alliance may crumble."
Leontis gripped his shoulder. "Then I will hold my walls by day, and weaken them by night."
Cliffhanger
From the tower, Leontis watched enemy campfires sprout across the darkened shore like a field of stars.
Fifty, a hundred - too many to count.
The siege of Thryon had begun.
The lion would have to roar louder than ever before.
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To Be Continued...
Next Week: Episode 3 - The Lion's Oath