It was the day of the feast. Suggested by his mother, ordered by his own instruction and prepared by his sister and sister-in-law, the festivities of the evening that drew near were designed to be a celebration of new birth. An honourable means of declaring the last king gone forever and the new to now be in control and to hold the loyalty of his peerage. The entire charade had Vangelis feeling mildly sick.
Not that he should call it that: a charade. It wasn't a facade or false. It truly was what it set out to be. Vangelis just personally felt that the parades that the nobility carried out in order to show glory or respect or loyalty were all slightly grotesque in how they were then twisted by attendees to curry favour or sway political connections. The original soul and purpose of the communion was often lost in the personal vendettas or ambitions of those who took the rare opportunity of so many powerful people in one place to deal and manipulate.
The entire thing was just something he could have done without.
Yet, it was necessary. Of that he was certain and he did agree with his mother. The Kotas had to show their strength, their power, their unified solidarity between the brothers and the next generation that - while not of his own direct line - was an heir to the throne regardless.
But first... first, Vangelis sought to aid and guidance of those more powerful than he. Normally, that would have been his father. But, when you were the monarch of your kingdom, there was only one source of support and help you could seek without it being seen as a weakness.
In the company of a half dozen guards that he would have preferred to deal without, Vangelis visited the Hall of the Gods that morning, seeking a peace that had been missing within him since he had landed on Colchian shores.
A man of great strength, power and victory on the battlefields, he and his family were devout to the God of War and Vangelis had offered many a sacrifice each time he returned to the Kirakles isles between his campaigns. He ensured that his men were all given coins on the eyes upon their demise for the lord of the underworld. He made certain that each of his ships hung a sacred marker for Poseidon. A man who was successful because of his dedication to detail on the battlefield, for Vangelis, the wars begun at home - with the support you secured before you set sail.
Vangelis' first stop within the Hall was to the statue of the great Goddess Athena. The guiding warrioress who offered wisdom and strategy to leaders, it was at her feet that Vangelis knelt and offered several pieces of fruit from his own table and an olive tree branch in sacred respect. He bowed his head and sent up his thoughts of insecurity, his concerns for his skills in leading a kingdom and making the best decisions and judgements for his people. He offered up his guilt for having thrown away his birth right in Taengea, regardless of the fact that he thought it best at the time and he had been ignorant of what was occurring in his native land.
He knelt there for a while, allowing his doubts and fears to flow through his mind, never showing on his face, in the hope that Athena's healing grace would offer him some kind of path or understanding.
When he felt his mind calm and his anxieties drift to a manageable hum in the back of his head, Vangelis rose back to his feet and headed from Athena's shrine to the doorway to the Naos of Ares.
A place he knew well, Vangelis came without sacrifice this time - he would deliver something more substantial if and when he sailed to war - and instead simply approached the main statue of the great God of War and knelt before him. Removing his sword from its sheath and laying it horizontal just before the carved marble toes of his patron God, Vangelis left it there as he bowed his head and offered up thoughts regarding the war with Egypt, surmising his plans, cementing his ideas and his determination to be victorious in the lands to the south if he was indeed summoned to honour the treaty between the kingdoms.
When he was done, he took the sword that he hoped would have been blessed by the God of violence and pressed the edge of the blade against his palm. Rivulets of crimson bloomed across his hand and ran towards his little finger. Splatters of scarlet blood hit the stone at his feet and he mentally offered the blood sacrifice in a promise that vowed his victories to be completed in the name of Ares.
Once the blood had ceased to flow, Vangelis cleaned his blade and returned it to its mooring at his belt. He rose to his feet, bowed low to the marble figure and then left the temple with his conscience a little clearer and his determinations high for the future of his people.
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