As they enter the giant walls, their senses are bombarded, tthe smell of burning wood, sweat, and iron in the air, mixing with distant screams of people fighting and clashing bronze. The streets themselves were full of people, traders bartering loudly, warriors sharpening their weapons, slaves carrying jugs of water, and nobles draped in the finest embroidered linen and jewelry.

  Mel kept a close eye on the others, making sure no one were to attack them on their way to the king, but no one did, no one even bat an eye to them, it was strange.

  Raquel muttered under her breath, arms crossed. "This place smells like a barn."

  Cairos shifted his gaze sideways and remarked, “This place reeks of war.” His voice was softer than usual, and his eyes were glued to a bunch of soldiers in a nearby open space rendering their spear thrusts with intensely purposeful savagery. Every action was automatic and precise—these men were not merely getting into combat; these men were seasoned fighters.

  Mel was not so sure what to think as her heart began racing and her fists clenched. She anticipated some hostile looks, perhaps some questions like trying to discern who the two of them were. But no such thing happened, no-one showed any interest whatsoever, including looking towards the direction they were coming from.

  The feelings she had were not satisfaction. Rather, they were discomforting.

  "Is there a reason no one is looking at our direction?" she quietly asked Theras, who was currently guiding us further into the city.

  "Because nobody is interested." His reply was curt, bordering on irritated. "This is Mycenae. If as a person you do not have value, then you are nothing."

  She did not expect those statements to hit that hard.

  Under silence, Hollis walked, still clutching on his bag tightly. Ever since seeing the lion, he had become more tense, the way he kept glancing towards every man in a weapon in the vicinity. However, he was not the only one looking so stiff as it seems.

  A few steps ahead, a couple of men were pulling a bound soldier through the streets. His tunic was torn, his face was swollen by bruises, and a thick lace rope was wrapped around his neck like some ferocious animal. In front of him a soldier yelled some random orders while pulling him forward, the poor man's future was a mystery but my word, it was indeed grim.

  Liora could not help staring "this place is brutal."

  "Welcome to the worlds greatest kingdom," theras said, pride in his voice as if this was a utopia.

  They walked higher and higher through the city, past stone buildings, open air forges, and wide courtyards filled with men and women who had long accepted this life.

  Eryx, aion, and myron seperated from them, going to send word that lysandra had died, as well as selling whatever else they hunted.

  Finally, then the city opened up, the palace which could have been seen from afar was now apparent.

  The great palce atop the citadel.

  It loomed over them, its massive columns rising into the sky, decorated with red and gold murals of warriors, chariots, and gods. Torches lined the entrance, their flames flickering against the painted stone walls. At the very center stood two great bronze doors, guarded by men in polished armor, spears at the ready.

  Theras stepped forward without hesitation. "We bring a prize for the king."

  One of the guards, his helmet’s cheek guards framing a stern face, eyed the group before his gaze landed on the severed black lion’s head.

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  A beat passed. Then, without a word, he turned and pushed open the doors.

  "Enter."

  The palace swallowed them whole.

  Inside, the palace had a thick scent of oil, spicef wine, and thick aged stone. The flickering flame from the torch cast a long shadow against towering columns, their surfaces adorned with murals of warriors past, figures forever locked in battle.

  The palace was built for people, it was built to show the owners power and wealth.

  Their footsteps echoed against the far too polished stone floor, as mel and the others followed theras the ceiling loomed high above, dark wooden beams stretcing across its vast expanse, slaves stood against the wall, some standing some bowing, but they all have the same look in their eyes. Guards watched them in full bronze armor, silent, spears in hand.

  At the far end of the hall, a massive throne sat atop a raised platform. Gold and ivory adorned its frame, but its grandeur did nothing to soften the man seated upon it.

  Agamemnon.

  He was larger than life broad-shouldered, draped in embroidered robes of crimson and gold. His dark beard was streaked with gray, his eyes were sharp, cold. A king forged in war. He did not look pleased.

  Mel swallowed hard. This was the man who led the Greeks against Troy. A conqueror. A flawed king. And they were about to stand before him, out of place and out of time.

  "Speak," the king said, his voice deep and commanding. It wasn’t a request.

  "I return with a prize, my king," Theras answered, stepping aside to reveal the massive, severed black lion’s head.

  Gasps rippled through the court. Even some of the guards shifted, whispering among themselves.

  The kings gaze flickered over the lion’s head, then toward the strange group of outsiders standing behind Theras. His expression didn’t change.

  "Who are these?" he asked, voice calm but edged with curiosity.

  Theras did not hesitate. "They are hunters."

  Mel forced herself to stand taller, even as her heart pounded. She couldn’t let him see weakness.

  Agamemnon’s eyes landed on her. Studying. Measuring.

  "You," he said suddenly.

  Mel flinched but she kept her voice steady, she had to. "yes my king."

  A pause. Then, with a slow delibarate voice, he asked.

  "Tell me, child... are you hunter? Or are you prey."

  The words hung in the air like an axe, waiting to fall. The room was silent eerily silent. Even the whispers of the court had stopped. All eyes were on her.

  She forced herself to meet Agamemnon’s gaze, though every instinct told her to look away. His stare was sharp, heavy with expectation. This was a test. Not just for her—but for all of them.

  Hunter or prey?

  She couldn’t hesitate. Hesitation was weakness. Weakness was death.

  Mel straightened her back, puffed her chest, pushing down her fear. "A hunter," she said firmly.

  The king’s expression did not change. His gaze flickered to the others, measuring them as well.

  "And the rest of you?"

  Raquel stiffened beside her, shifting uncomfortably. Liora looked down at her hands. Cairos swallowed hard. Hollis looked about ready to cry.

  For a terrifying second, Mel thought they would be executed for not answering.

  Then, Cairos stepped forward. His hands were clenched at his sides, his knuckles pale, but his voice was steady.

  "A hunter," he said.

  Mel let out a sigh of relief. 'No one's gonna die.'

  Hollis let out a shaky breath. "A hunter," he echoed, though doubt was evident in his voice.

  Liora sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "I mean, at this point, yeah. A hunter."

  Raquel looked around, then hesitantly answered with a nod. "A hunter."

  The court murmured again, a few warriors chuckling among themselves.

  Agamemnon leaned back in his throne, his fingers tapping against the armrest. His eyes had not left them.

  "And what have you hunted?"

  Mel’s mouth felt dry. A lion. That should have been enough. They killed the Black Lion of Taygetos. That was proof, right? But she could see the contempt in Agamemnon’s eyes.

  It wasn’t just about what they had hunted. It was about why.

  She exhaled slowly. Say the right thing. Say the truth.

  "We hunted because we had no choice." Her voice was even, steady. "We hunted because we wanted to live."

  A pause.

  Then, to her surprise, Agamemnon smiled.

  "Good."

  It wasn’t a kind smile. It was knowing. Calculated.

  Mel’s stomach twisted.

  Agamemnon looked to Theras. "They have the instincts of hunters. But instincts are not enough."

  He raised a hand. A guard stepped forward, bowing.

  "Take them to the barracks." The king’s voice was final. "If they wish to call themselves hunters, let them prove it in the trials."

  Mel barely had time to process his words before guards surrounded them.

  "Wait, trials? What trials?" Raquel asked, panic creeping into her voice.

  "You will learn soon enough," Theras muttered. He didn’t look at them as they were led away.

  Mel’s pulse pounded. What had they just agreed to?

  And more importantly—what if they weren’t hunters after.

  The guards led them to a large open roofed terrain, the floor was covered in marks of fights, the ground stained with blood.

  Wheat dummies lined the edges, ridden with gashes from swords and arrows.

  Other warriors were already there, some young, some old but they all stared at them. Some with amusement, some with boredom, but a few looked... eager.

  "I don't like this." Raquel muttered, she has her arms crossed.

  "I don't think we're suposed to." Liora said, shifting uncomfortably

  A man stepped forward. Tall, bald, built like a stone pillar. His brown tunic was dirty covered in dirt and blood, and his arms were covered in scars too numerous to count. This was not a man who merely survived, he thrived in battles.

  "New recruits?" His voice was like gravel, and he eyed the group, like a butcher looking at meat.

  "Trial initiates," theras corrected.

  "Truly?" The man looked unimpressed. His gaze flickes towards mel, raquel, hollis, liora, and cairos, and for a moment, his lips curled slightly, barely hiding his disdain.

  "You want to be hunters?" He asked, stepping closer.

  No one answered.

  "I said do. You. Want. To. Be. Hunters?"

  Mel forced a nod. "Yes."

  "Then fight."

  Before any of them could react, the man grabbed and hurled a spear towards Mel.

  She barely had time to react, the weapon spun through the air like a bolt of lightning, whistling towards her chest.

  **END OF CHAPTER 6**