He’d been lured here by the promise of the stadium. Not without a competitive spirit, Achilleas had agreed to making the trip out to Argothia, and it was true that they’d had an enjoyable day at the circus. He’d won a little, eventually lost to Zacharias but that seemed a given and he couldn’t begrudge his cousin the overall victory. The man had some gods given talent when at the reins of a chariot, even racing unfamiliar horses as he was here. It was a little awing, if he were honest.



What he could be less pleased about was the fact that somehow the Crown Prince had managed to entirely vanish, and having left Stephanos in some raucous card game some hours ago, Achilleas was now at rather a loose end.



The town of Argothia was not a place he’d spent a lot of time. His interests didn’t lie in gambling - he was terrible at it - nor drinking - he didn’t often- and so that set him apart from the crowds that were usually drawn to the Kassotis barony. It was a strange place: the Mikaelidas silently thought it a little gaudy and gauche, but there were others who only had good things to say about the place. His brother for one.



But for the elder of Irakles sons, there was not a natural affinity with the bustling taverna his party had found themselves in. He had been nursing the same cup of wine for over an hour now, not much liking the fogging of his thoughts that came with over-indulging. Without Zacharias to stand with him on the side of sensible, Achilleas had spent most of the night sitting off to one side and spectating the strange breed of person that frequented the card tables or politely denying any of the undeniably spectacular women that sought out his company.



It certainly wasn’t that he was immune to their charms, the Heterai were very good at what they did that was much was true. Had he been less determined, or less sober, he could not say he would have resisted the temptation to follow one of them somewhere more secluded. But Achilleas had already resolved to leave early the next morning, some barony business of his own to attend to, and so he had made the decision much earlier on to keep a clear head this night. Not to mention that things with Stephanos involved had a tendency to dissolve into chaos and he’d learnt his lesson.



Now though, the Mikaelidas Lord felt thoroughly abandoned by his older, more responsible cousin and he was debating calling in a night altogether. At least he would not need to explain himself to Stephanos and be talked out of it. And so he’d pushed to his feet, set the cup of wine down and begun threading his way toward the tavern door. They had been granted use of a fine house toward the outskirts of the town that Achilleas hoped he could remember his way to as he used his broad shoulder to carve a path through the lively crowd. A more sober group would have the sense to part ways for the goliath figure that the Mikaelidas man presented, but this lot were far from that, and Achilleas was tired and growing impatient with the jostling. When a man whose close acquaintance with an amphora of wine gave him the misguided notion that he might pick a fight with the Mikaelidas lord, Achilleas did consider laying him out.



Considered it, but restrained himself, even when the oaf dared to push at the solid, immoveable force that was the Taengean Commander. This was one of the many reasons he avoided large groups of wine-soaked individuals. There would always be one who thought they were invincible, and despite the fact that the Mikaelidas man tended towards the reserved, the sheer size of him tended to draw attention from those fancying themselves the next Hercules. “I suggest you step aside before you find yourself in an impossible situation,” Achilleas said, irritated at the gall of the man.