Ever since he had been promoted to Captain, Damocles had found that his time had been spent heavily between the busied metropolis of Midas and the chaotic maze that was Magnemea, usually summing a considerable number of visits to the capital as per days expected. Honestly, for as frenzied and difficult as travelling in the capital was, it was still far better than the hellhole that had been his province of birth. Compared to the lands in that miserable, dark demesne, the core of Colchis was thriving with diverse activity and all sorts of different businesses, a sight that made him enjoy the presence of the place…for the most part.



He was not going to delude himself into believing that he wasn’t aware of the horrors that happened beneath ground, the same horrors he had once toiled and labored under through whip and chain against his bared shoulders and once-gaunt back. He still carried the scars of those days, those bygone moments of unbearable horror that still, from time-to-time, frightened him into a cold-chill between slept hours beneath the starry skies of the ebony nights. Thankfully, despite their presence, the Silver-eyed man was able to always justify his scars by means of war wounds that he had suffered in defense of the homeland, a cleaver little deception that spared others from digging too much into his past. If it was up to him, he would leave all memory of those infernal days hidden away as much as possible. Well, almost all of those memories, save for the ones compounded by those hateful, Crowned bears of false presences and selfish obsessions.



This was the primary reason why, whenever he stayed at the capital, Damocles had made it a point to ask his Baron if he could stay in his own urban manse, provided it was empty. Over the years, he had developed a more-than-close relationship with the old, senile fool, wrapping him right around his finger like a precious, little ring. It was true that he did not always get what he wanted, for that obstinate, dimwitted imbecile still had some modicum of individuality to spare, but that did not stop him from eventually getting all he wanted in the long-run. Thus, given his past, he was more than happy to ask for his lodgings whence he made his acquaintance with the people of Midas. Besides, who didn’t love sleeping in a soften, feathered pillow?



Still, for as much as he disliked mingling with the lower levels of the capital, he still could not completely falsify his surroundings and make away all that he was. Whatever he wished to attain for his own personal use had to, more-often-than-not, be procured by means of coin and banter down the buzzled streets of the deepest rings of the metropolis. As it was, he had no particular reason to spend much coin on himself, for he had already more than enough for himself. Yet, he was not completely here for himself, for an anniversary of sorts was fast approaching. True, he had not always been the most accurate for these affairs, with his affinity for gifting being quite laughable at best, but that did not dissuade him from procuring an object of sorts for his brother. Hence, with a casual stroll to his sandaled feet, the darkly dressed militant wondered around the corridors and alleys of the core, delving unto markets and shops in the pursuit of an appropriate object.



Eventually, after wondering about for hours, the Herculean man stumbled upon an inviting shop of sorts. It wasn’t luxurious or opulent, but it wasn’t humble or rundown either. Instead, it was pleasantly well-organized and maintained, showing the level of attention its keepers displayed when dealing with their wares. His grey stare scanned the content of the place, musing quietly to himself as he considered his options. As far as money went, he had not to worry much for the prices, but when it came to taste, he had little to show for. Maybe Daedalos would have appreciated a new pair of sandals, or possibly a pair of boots. He was always complaining about his feet after all, so perhaps that might’ve satisfied him. Then again, he presumed that he had to keep up appearances in Court, so mayhaps some jewelry would inspire him better. Blast! He really had no idea. Still, he was not known for being a quitter. Thus, he turned to a woman, whom he presumed was an employee at the shop, and began to seek her advice.



“Excuse me, would you mind sparing a moment and help me with your wares? I need to buy a gift for a close friend of mine, but I have no idea where to start.” He proposed, smiling captivatingly charmingly at the woman as he softened his pleasant features to an inviting level. “I fear your shop is too filled with all-too-good objects, and so I cannot possibly choose!” he teasingly called in a slightly flirtatious manner so as to offer up a small compliment.