Five years before, Aeschylus dragged his battered body home after a lifetime of service in Aegina's navy. He'd hoped for a place to curl up and forget. Instead, he'd found himself the city guard's captain and in the middle of a political firefight with Aegina's rival and nearest neighbor, Athens. Aeschylus had stopped the municipal kidnappings and made a berth for himself. A loveless and monotonous berth. No one with any sense would join the guard. Young hoplites itching for glory and gold joined the Marines or were hired as mercenaries. There was always a war somewhere. Aeschylus needed a decent guardsman. Someone who understood that everyone deserved the same level of protection. Aeschylus knew prayer was as dangerous as poking a hydra with a stick, but he was out of options. Aeschylus asked Ares, the god of war, to send him an old hoplite weary of fighting. Ares sent him Thêritas of Thrace. A young soldier on a divine labor. A handsome young soldier eager to learn what he could from Aeschylus. Gods sent men on labors to punish or prepare them for a glorious death. Aeschylus told himself there was no reason to borrow sorrows that hadn't yet happened. Mysteries were piling up. It would be up to Aeschylus and his appealing young guardsman to sort the mysteries from the genuine miracles and do their best to ensure Aegina didn't go straight to Tartarus. Aeschylus hadn't asked for a miracle. But as a result of his prayer, he got the whole miraculous ball of wax.
