The Villain of Ancient Greece

Northern coastal plains of the island, by a forested trail.

Two ”foreigners”—one big, one small, who had successfully snuck ashore, glanced toward the tall city walls and towering gates in the distance, then ducked into the shade of the trees to rehearse their story.

”Once we’re inside, what do you call me?”

”Lorne…”

Whack!

A dull thump landed on Medusa’s little head. Lorne’s face darkened as he corrected her:

”Brother. You call me brother! From now on, you’re my little sister. We’re siblings who go out to sea to make a living as merchants in Serifos, Got it?”

”…Oh..”

Medusa half-heartedly replied with a single syllable, rubbing her sore head, clearly not taking it too seriously.

How much of that actually sunk in? Only she knew.

Forget it, even if brothers and sisters call each other by their names directly, there is nothing wrong in theory.

Lorne raised his hand in dismay, rubbed his swollen temples, and spoke again after a wave of self-comfort.

”And what about your name?”

”Anna!”

This time, Medusa’s answer was prompt and decisive, her tone far more spirited than before.

It was clear she liked her new name very much.

The name ”Anna” originated from Greek, meaning ”grace,” ”kindness,” or ”blessing”, carrying hopeful, beautiful meanings.

Hearing her words, Lorne nodded in approval and gave the little one a gentle pat on the head as a small reward.

In the Age of Gods, a true name often revealed the origin and essence of a being and held mysterious power.

Whether it was a curse, prophecy, or spell, one’s true name was often the key medium.

Therefore, if this kind of thing that concerns life and property is easily exposed, it is likely to bring unnecessary danger and trouble.

So to avoid unnecessary trouble, Lorne gave Medusa a fake identity before entering the city.

Well, he had no choice.

After all, the fame of the Gorgon sisters and the Blood of Medusa was just too overwhelming.

To mortals bound by age and death, she was practically walking treasure.

As for Lorne himself, he didn’t need a disguise.

For one, his real divine name, which was Dionysus, was still unknown to the world.

And second, ”Lorne” (Λέων) came from the Greek word for ”lion,” a nickname given by his late mother.

Aside from his adoptive mother and teacher Circe, his gambling goddess partner Hecate, and the little Medusa before him, no one else knew.

Not even his so-called father, Zeus, had a clue.

—He didn’t wait for his lover to speak and deliver the news; he acted first.

Heh. Guess he got what he deserved.

Thinking back to that stormy night, and that god-king who thought he had everything under control, Lorne let out a mocking laugh and shook his head.

Little Medusa looked up at the face that was a little gloomy for some reason, bit her cherry lips, and spoke softly.

”You… are you okay?”

Lorne snapped out of it, gave a light chuckle and shake of his head, then quickly sorted through his thoughts and continued asking questions to refine their fabricated backstory.

Perhaps because of the strange mood earlier, Medusa was surprisingly cooperative this time, and they soon completed the basic rehearsal of their story.

After finishing up the prep, Lorne still felt uneasy and reminded her again:

”Remember, once we’re inside, stick close behind me. Don’t wander off. This isn’t like the Invisible Isle — you know how outsiders see you.”

”Mm!”

Medusa’s little face turned serious as she gave a firm nod, after all, she clearly understood her situation.

Seeing this, Lorne patted her head gently with a warm smile to encourage her, then let his fingers drop and took her small, icy-cold hand as they followed the crowd toward the city gates at the end of the road.

Along the way, listening to the chatter around them, Lorne squinted his eyes in comfort, enjoying the breeze and admiring the island called Crete.

This was the cradle of ancient Greek civilization — full of mountainous terrain and deep valleys, picturesque scenery, dramatic cliffs, stony capes, and sandy beaches.

Its typical Mediterranean climate meant warm sunshine, generous rainfall, evergreen forests, blooming flowers, and fertile fields brimming with olives, grapes, and citrus.

In addition, surrounded by the endless blue sea, from a distance, the island looked like a paradise garden.

According to legend, there were nearly a hundred ancient cities scattered across Crete, with the most important being its capital, Knossos, known as the ”City of Cities,” located on the northern coastal plain.

That was precisely the city now standing before Lorne.

Following the crowd and mimicking their actions, the two paid the entry tax and successfully blended into Knossos.

Past the towering gates, a wide road paved with bluestone cut through the heart of the city, connecting to countless main roads and alleys.

Buildings stood in dense rows along either side, mostly made of stone — solid and enduring.

Looking around, one could see residences, palaces, villas, inns, public baths, workshops, everything one could need, all fully functional.

The marketplace was bustling.

Stone carvings, gold and silverware, jewelry, pottery, bronze goods, seasonal fruits and vegetables, and humble street food, everything imaginable was available.

And beyond the flowing crowd, standing tall at the end of the main road, was a grand rectangular palace occupying a massive 22,000 square meters.

With its rigid axial symmetry, signature column structures, and central courtyards for lighting, it exuded a uniquely Greek aesthetic.

This was the cultural and political heart of Crete — the Palace of Knossos.

And this towering residence belonged to one of the most famous figures in Greek mythology:

—The lord of Crete, one of the future three judges of the underworld, the son of Zeus and Europa…

As memories surged, Lorne’s thoughts touched on that final title and the corners of his lips curled in amusement.

…And the famous victim of the Minotaur — the wise king Minos.

Legend has it that Minos did not ascend to the throne rightfully. He usurped the kingship from his brother Rhadamanthus and drove him away, thus becoming the new ruler of Crete.

In order to whitewash the sacredness of his inauguration, he prayed to Poseidon for miracles to prove that his usurpation of power was legitimate.

In response, the sea god gifted Minos a magnificent white bull, demanding that it be sacrificed in his honor.

But the bull was so stunningly beautiful that Minos couldn’t bear to kill it. Instead, he secretly substituted it with another bull for the offering.

Furious at this deception, Poseidon cursed Minos’s wife, Pasiphaë, afflicting her with an unnatural desire for beasts.

To cover up the shame, Minos hired Daedalus to build a wooden cow, realistic enough to deceive the white bull, and hid Pasiphaë inside it.

But the replica was so lifelike that the bull was fooled as he fell in love and mated with it.

As a result, Pasiphaë became pregnant and later gave birth to a monstrous creature with a bull’s head and a man’s body, the Minotaur, which literally means ”the bull of Minos.”

Eventually, the scandal couldn’t be concealed.

To contain the monster, Minos ordered Daedalus and his son Icarus to build an elaborate underground labyrinth, the Labyrinth, where the Minotaur would be imprisoned.

However, once the task was completed, to ensure that no one would know if this secret, both Daedalus and Icarus were themselves imprisoned by Minos

and that led to their later attempt to escape across the Oceanus Sea using Icarus’s wings.

Of course, according to Lorne’s interpretation, Minos’s decision to imprison the father and son was likely due to personal grudges.

After all, Daedalus had built the cow a little too well, which ended up with his own wife getting… well, ”cowed” by an actual bull.

He did not dare to take revenge on Poseidon after all, the sea god was too powerful, and technically, Minos had broken his promise, so Daedalus became the perfect scapegoat: just the right size and shape to vent his frustrations on.

So you see, in ancient Greece, the golden rule remained:

Strength makes right.

After a brief moment of silent mourning for the poor victim on Crete, Lorne casually pulled Medusa along, speaking to her about their next steps as they walked.

”We’ll find a shop to sell off the fish and other goods first, then look around a bit, maybe grab some supplies and a nautical chart. After that, we’ll figure out our next move…”

But beside him, there was no reply. In fact, the weight pulling on his hand was getting heavier.

Lorne turned to look and there was Medusa, staring wide-eyed at a nearby food stall packed with local delicacies: creamy milk, grilled bird eggs, fruit wine, and more.

At time moment, her gaze was locked in a daze, and a glistening drop of drool had unknowingly slid down her rosy lips… and was stretching longer by the second.

(End of Chapter)