"I'm Themistocles! What, do those god-blood nobles of the Areopagus sleep uneasy unless I'm driven out of Athens?!"
"Themistocles?"
"Damn it, I'm the general who led you brats and saved Athens twice!"
The old man looked at the young man tilting his head with a genuinely puzzled expression, as though he were seriously thinking it over. His pride took a hit, his breath caught, and his lion-like beard bristled strand by strand with rage as he could not help cursing in complaint.
"Where did those senile fools in the assembly hall dig up a greenhorn like you? You didn't even figure out your target before barging in to probe me?"
"Oh, now I remember. You're that unlucky guy the citizen assembly exiled."
Samael finally realized who the old man in front of him was. General Themistocles, who had once led the Athenians to agree to the Battle of Salamis while pinned against the wall. His expression eased slightly at last.
"That's not right, though. Wasn't everyone outside saying you'd been sent off to Argos to serve your sentence? Why are you still hiding here?"
But after that brief pause, the Ancient Serpent's baffled question immediately darkened the old man's mood again. The resentment he had built up over recent days made him snort coldly in irritation.
"Where I live is my business! What's it got to do with a little thief who broke into private property?"
"Private property? I was just about to ask why you're in my house!"
The two stared at each other, both wearing stunned expressions, and the atmosphere froze.
"Chi!"
Just as Samael realized something seemed to be off, the tightly shut door burst open with a low hum, and a sharp explosive sound wrapped in a purple-red ether tide tore through the air.
Samael instinctively flung aside the old general he had been holding, slid sideways, drew his sword in a backhand motion, and slashed. The crimson blade crashed into a cluster of deep violet thorns. Amid a burst of clanging metal, he barely managed to knock them aside.
The force of the impact still drove the Ancient Serpent back two full steps before he managed to stop.
But as the remaining force on the incoming weapon was finally spent, Samael smoothly curled his fingers forward, caught the crimson shaft, spun the spear with practiced ease, then turned toward the doorway and rolled his eyes in annoyance.
"I'm telling you, old friend, could you stop making every welcome this heart-stopping?"
"I wanted to test your reflexes."
Scáthach, carrying a bag of ingredients in one arm, lightly caught the crimson demonic spear Samael tossed back to her with her right hand. She answered casually, but then frowned and stepped forward, her gaze lingering on the Ancient Serpent's chest for a moment. A trace of gravity, and a hint of concealed concern, entered her eyes.
"You've gotten a lot slower. Looks like your injuries are serious. Come to my room first. I..."
"Heave-ho. Ehehe! Lord Samael! Lord Samael's back! I saw him first!"
Before Scáthach could finish, the lively, energetic pink-haired Valkyrie Hildr had already rushed excitedly into the courtyard, carrying a basket of bread, and slammed straight into Samael's arms.
Thrúd, the blonde who arrived right after her, immediately set the bundle in her arms down on the table, walked over with a dark expression, and, with fingers crackling with lightning, expertly shocked the overfamiliar ball of energy senseless before dragging her aside and stepping back respectfully.
Of course, black-haired, expressionless Ortlinde, who had been loafing her way over empty-handed while flipping through a poetry manuscript, also failed to escape the clutches of a certain gently violent big sister.
Thrúd, whose control over Thor's power had become more and more refined, pressed down on the heads of her two younger sisters and bowed to Samael in respect.
Looking at the two Valkyries, their hair standing on end and their slender bodies trembling numbly like sieves, the Ancient Serpent could not help laughing. As a fruit basket drifted past him, he casually reached in, took out a rosy, luscious apple, and bit into it with a crisp crunch.
"Samael, you bastard! You just got back and you're already stealing my food! You might as well have died outside!"
The moment Holo noticed the fruit basket had gotten lighter, the fiercely food-protective wolf's forehead veins bulged. Grinding her silver teeth audibly, she swung her fists and charged after her rotten little brother.
"Eat fewer apples or you'll get indigestion... oh? There's pastry too? Kids shouldn't eat so many snacks..."
As he dodged and weaved, the Ancient Serpent used slippery footwork to steal trophy after trophy from the basket Holo treasured like gold, enraging his older sister so much that she completely forgot her dignity, leaped onto his back, wrapped herself around his neck, and started biting like a mad dog.
After the courtyard had been noisy for a bit and the atmosphere finally loosened up and turned lively, Samael bared his teeth, pulled Holo off the back of his neck, gestured for everyone to shut the gate, sat down at the stone table, and finally got to the point.
Naturally, that old general the group of outsiders had been hiding was also invited back.
After getting a quick rundown of Athens's current situation from Scáthach, Samael briefly recounted how he had escorted the Queen of Sparta and the High Priestess, then gave his own view based on the state of Greece.
Although the earlier Battle of Salamis had seized the right moment and won brilliantly, the Persian fleet had by no means suffered crippling losses. Meanwhile, the Greeks had grown arrogant first, exiling the veteran admiral Themistocles and even dragging quite a few other commanders down with him.
As a result, the fleet was left leaderless, Athens's naval advantage was gone, and dealing the Persian fleet another devastating blow would not come easily. Even with the Viking fleet added in, that kind of victory would be hard to repeat.
Still, Scáthach had intercepted the exiled Themistocles ahead of time and hidden the old general inside Athens, which saved Samael the trouble of having to relearn the structure of the Athenian navy and sort out its command after taking over the Areopagus.
Now Thessaly had fallen, and Thermopylae was in danger. This final pass guarding the northern gateway of Greece had already become the key point that would decide the course of the entire Greco-Persian War.
As the core of the Pan-Hellenic alliance, Athens's most sensible move right now was to gather its forces as quickly as possible and reinforce Thermopylae.
But at that point, old General Themistocles's eyes flickered, and he murmured in a low voice,
"I think that instead of placing our bet on Thermopylae, we should take the initiative into our own hands. First evacuate the Athenians to the sea, then contact the Egyptians and fight another decisive battle against the Persian fleet!"
"And what about the allied armies from the various city-states at Thermopylae?"
"Since the Persians have shifted the focus of their offensive from sea warfare to land warfare, then that is fate and the oracle. Naturally, all the risk can only be borne by the city-states along the line themselves."
The old man's voice gradually sank lower, and his expression turned deeply suggestive.
"The Spartan army is the finest in Greece. Letting them suffer a little would not necessarily be a bad thing for Athens. And we can make use of the time that Spartan king buys us to perfect our plans at sea. When the time comes, Greece will remember their heroism and sacrifice."