Nemesis (Sparta Online Book 1) Page 7

  “Lapis lazuli,” she said, looking at the four gems in her hand before tucking them out of sight. She then raised the mace in one hand, and patted the chestplate with her other fist. “Thank you for agreeing to let me take these. I have the Trial of Hippolyta to do next week. Without proper armor and a good weapon, I’d be done for.”

  “The trial of… what’s that now?” asked Plato

  “The Trial of Hippolyta. It’s one of the trials that hoplites have to pass,” she said. “So you’ll have to do it too, before long, though you need to reach level five first. I don’t know exactly what we’ll have to do in the trial itself. But I expect to have to fight, maybe against some kind of creature that they bring in. There will be contests against the other hoplites too, I bet. And it will all take place down at the amphitheater stadium, in front of Lord Agiad and all of the most important citizens of Sparta.”

  Skill boost! You have developed your knowledge. +5XP

  “Tell me more,” said Troy.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know what it involves exactly, because they haven’t told us. Anyway, why are you so interested? You must have weeks to go before it’s your turn.”

  “Well, I’m curious too,” said Plato. “I like to know what to focus on.”

  “Just focus on staying alive.”

  Level: Hoplite (Level 2)

  XP: 0195

  Hit points: 8/16

  Equipment: belt; bronze helmet; coin pouch; dagger; wooden club.

  Chapter 9: The Baths

  The three recruits had lapsed into silence for a moment, when Troy saw that the workers were now approaching the olive grove again. “Come on,” he said. “I think we should get back to the training camp before we are accused of thieving.”

  As they began to walk back up the slope towards the edge of the spreading olive trees, Troy heard a call from behind.

  “Wait!”

  It was the gray-bearded worker who he had given the coin to before, and Troy hesitated. “You go on ahead,” he said to the others. “I’ll catch you up.” He turned, and took a few paces back down the slope as the tall, rangy man approached. One eye appeared slightly puffy, the cheek below red.

  “Look I’m sorry about taking some olives,” Troy began, but the man waved his long calloused hands and shook his head firmly. “Don’t worry, young hoplite. I’ve seen worse, and not often that any of the recruits spare us any valuables. I thank you for the coin – it was more than I deserved.”

  “But… that warrior hit you. I feel really bad about that.”

  “Listen,” said the man, approaching and putting a hand on Troy’s shoulder, “that reflects his lack of decency, not yours. Strive to be a good citizen of Sparta. We may all need to depend on your bravery before long, but being a fierce warrior doesn’t mean you have to become a cruel person. Do you understand?”

  “I think so.”

  “Good. Then do as your captains say, keep in line, but don’t lose sight of what really matters. In your soul, I mean.”

  “I’m new to this,” Troy replied uncertainly, “but I’ll do my best.”

  Skill boost! You have developed your valor. +5XP

  The man nodded, and began to walk with Troy back up the hill towards the top of the olive grove; Plato and Clio were still in sight just ahead.

  “My name is Democles,” said the man.

  “I’m Troy.”

  Democles nodded slowly at this name, but didn’t comment on it. “You see those homes over there?” he said, pointing. “The traditional stone-built ones?”

  Troy shaded his eyes against the midday sun and looked to the east; there, not far from the banks of the river, were a cluster of small rough stone houses with a single waist-height wooden fence wall surrounding the group in an approximate circle.

  “We are of the Proteus Tribe,” said Democles, “and my people are what the Spartan citizens call Helots. We were among the first to live in what is now a great and diverse city, but our own village has barely changed since my grandparents’ time. The thing is, we are not warriors, or even citizens. Helots are poor and looked down upon – little more than slaves, in truth. Nobody listens to us, and we are only tolerated because we grow food, and produce clothing, weaving and suchlike.

  “But I tell you, boy,” the man continued, “we don’t forget the ancient ways of hospitality. If the captains are mistreating you or your friends, come to our door and we will help if we can. If I’m not there myself, just tell them that Democles sent you.”

  “Thank you,” said Troy.

  “Besides,” added the man, “I owe you. The coin you gave me was made of electrum, and much too valuable for the small service you asked. It will help to feed my family if times get hard.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. And thanks for your offer of help – I really mean it. Sometimes I feel quite alone here.” Troy reached out to shake the man’s hand with a smile, then turned and began to hurry uphill.

  As he went, he wondered what was in store on his return to the training ground. On the one hand, they had won, after a fashion. The Myrmidon was defeated, and while he and Plato didn’t have all of the loot, it wasn’t a bad haul considering that they outnumbered their opponents four to one at the start. If the others had joined with them, they would have had to compromise even further on the armor, weapons and gems.

  Overall, he had a lot more than he started with, and after just a day, that was something. He recalled Andros’s instructions about the ‘inventory’ command, and brought this up as he approached his dormitory building, reminding himself about the knife and helmet, though noticing that the gems didn’t show up; neither had the coin, he recalled. Perhaps there was a different command for valuables.

  Equipment: belt; bronze helmet; coin pouch; dagger; wooden club.

  Nice.

  Which also meant, of course, that Leon and Canis would have come home empty handed. Well, what could he do about that? He hadn’t told them to run off down towards the amphitheater.

  Troy patted the new coin pouch as he moved on. If there was some way to spend the gems he had gained, then he might be able to get a better weapon than the dagger. Or perhaps he could trade the cumbersome bronze helmet, too. What had Democles the Helot said about producing clothing and crafts? Perhaps he should return to visit sooner rather than later.

  Either way, it was certainly progress towards being fully equipped as a hoplite.

  * * *

  That evening, Troy and Plato set out for the Feasting Hall a little after the others from their dorm, and they reexamined their newly-acquired gear as they went.

  “Are you going to keep the wooden club?” asked Plato?

  Troy looked down. The long weapon was still tucked into the loop on his belt, and it bashed against his knees as he walked, he had quickly realized.

  “It probably seems pointless when I have a dagger now,” he replied. “All the same, it has a kind of special significance now, you know? I won my first victory with it.”

  “And a little help from us, man.”

  “Yeah. Of course.”

  He stopped in the large training area, pulled the club out, and swung it through the air a few times. “It does have a nice balance.”

  “Why don’t you stick it under your bunk? You might want a backup weapon at some point.”

  “Yeah. I guess. But it wouldn’t be hidden there, and I don’t like the idea of the others finding any of my gear, not even this.” He looked sideways; they had just passed the House of Healing, and it had thick thorn bushes growing at the back of it. “I know – I’ll hide it in there among the bushes.”

  Skill boost! You have developed your survival skills. +5XP

  After Troy’s detour to hide his club, the boys proceeded to the Feasting Hall. It was a long, thin and dimly lit building, leading to a slightly soporific atmosphere; after their recent exertions, most of the hoplites were eating in silence, and a few had slumped backwards and were starting to look sleepy. They saw Clio at the far side, sitti
ng at a small table with three other female hoplites. After a brief scolding about punctuality from Captain Theseus, Troy and Plato grabbed the two remaining bowls which were on a table at the front, and seated themselves on an unoccupied bench along one side.

  The meal was a swordfish stew, and had large white chunks of fish meat along with tomatoes and onions. It was the tastiest thing that Troy had eaten since their arrival in the camp, and he and Plato ate in silence for a moment, sipping from clay cups of water and occasionally glancing around the dingy room. Most of the others had seated themselves in fours, but Troy felt comfortable and companionable with Plato at his side.

  “Attention, hoplites!” called a voice, and Troy looked around to see that Andros was standing at the front of the building, just inside the door. “I wish to speak to you all outside. Take another minute to finish your meal, but don’t linger. Remember – a Spartan soldier must be ready to march to war at any time of day or night.”

  There was some nodding. Quickly, eager to impress, the hoplites shook off their lethargy, taking not more than another bite or two of food before getting up. Soon they were all outside, and were staring at Andros eagerly, ready for further information.

  “There is a message I have been asked to relay from the captains,” the guide continued. “Today, in battle, some of you won trophies and others did not. But that is the nature of the training. You will gain multiple opportunities to excel, and to upgrade your skills and equipment over the coming days and weeks.”

  As he was speaking, the captains walked over and stood a few feet back from Andros, looking warily at the hoplites.

  “Yes,” put in Captain Theseus, folding his arms. “This is a process of weeding out the weak, and if you didn’t get a sword, that’s just tough.”

  Andros looked behind him, gazing for a moment at the two captains, and then nodded. “Indeed, Spartans are lean, hungry, hard-working,” he said. “We don’t crave comfort. We are eager, striving to be better every day. We work for each other and coordinate as a unit.

  “Now,” Andros continued, “after a day of battle and feasting, all soldiers must bathe. It is time for you to be properly introduced to the Bathhouse.” With that he turned and pointed at the low reddish-colored building at the far end of the training area.

  Troy and Plato looked at each other. “Baths?” murmured Troy. “This is a simulation – why would we need to wash?”

  “Because you stink!” jeered Captain Theseus. Troy cursed himself – he hadn’t intended his comment to be audible, and now the other hoplites were all looking at him, and snickering.

  Soon, Andros and the hoplites were walking over towards the Bathhouse. Troy was happy to let the others move on ahead so that he was no longer the object of their gaze. As such, he and Plato soon found themselves at the rear of the group.

  As he had noticed from further away, the Bathhouse building was red in color, unlike the white or sand-colored marble of most of the structures in the training ground. As he got closer, though, he quickly realized it was not made of sandstone – like some of the old red buildings back home in Technoburbia – but rather of a kind of deep-pink marble, very smooth and with thin claret-colored swirling patterns that had looked uniformly red from a distance.

  Andros had stopped at the door to usher the hoplites inside, and gradually they all filed in into a room that was roughly square, with two doors further on. Troy looked around him. The interior had a domed ceiling, and was much more elaborately decorated than the other buildings that they had seen so far; the walls were adorned with paintings of lilies and roses, anemones and crocuses. Higher up, frescoes showed naked gods engaging in sport and war, riding chariots and battling with weapons and flames.

  “Male hoplites to the left, females to the right,” called out Andros from the back. “You will find towels and soap within.”

  The group obligingly divided up, making their way through the indicated doors with the others from their dorm. Troy and Plato were last to enter the male side, and found that the room contained a long rectangular pool of water at floor level, lined with tiles of a deep jade color. Steam was rising, and the rest of the room was accordingly blurry, but Troy could make out further decorations on the walls. A pile of basic-looking towels lay in one corner.

  Ahead, Canis had stripped off completely, and was leaning back against the edge of the large communal bath, and the other hoplites were preparing to get in. Soon Troy, too, was in the water up to his neck. It was very warm – at the upper end of comfortable – and had a pleasant smell that reminded him of spices. He stretched his arms out under the water, and arched his back.

  “Ahh… this feels damn good on the muscles, right?” he said to Plato, who was the last of all to enter.

  “So true. Hey, did you just get a boost to hit points?”

  Troy saw a notification just moments after Plato spoke.

  Health update! You have gained 2 hit points.

  As he leaned back against the tiled wall of the bath, Troy looked to his right and realized that Canis was glaring at him. “What’s up with you?” he asked.

  Canis sniffed, looked balefully around at a couple of the others, and then glared at Troy once again. “That was our Myrmidon, Troy,” he said.

  “So?”

  “So!” He pointed at the side of the pool, where Troy’s new dagger was visible on top of his light armor and other gear. “That’s not fair. It was a shared target, and you and Plato took all the loot to yourself. Selfish bastards.”

  ”Yeah, well,” put in Plato, glowering at Canis, “we took all the risks, too, man. We took the guy down.”

  “And you gave some of the loot to a girl.”

  “Clio played her role in the fight,” replied Troy, scowling and gritting his teeth as he glared right back at his comrade. “Every bit as much as the two of us – and much more than you and Leon.”

  Skill boost! You have developed your grit. +5XP

  “Yeah,” said Plato, moving closer towards the pair. “A lot more than you did. Frankly, she is a better and smarter warrior. You two ran off in the wrong direction. That’s not our fault!”

  “Liar!” called out Canis, in a high-pitched voice. “You tricked us.”

  Ajax and his closest companions Nabis and Glaucus were watching this exchange from the far side of the bath, all of them leaning against the bath’s side, smirking and looking very relaxed. “Punch him,” called out Ajax, and his friends snickered.

  Canis now had his finger pointing in Troy’s face, less than an inch from his nose. “You ought to give us our fair share,” he said. “You owe us.”

  “That’s crazy. Why should we hand this over to you when we fought for it?” Troy replied, his own voice rising in pitch. “Didn’t you hear Andros? This place is a tough contest. We’ll get lots of opportunities to get gear. Some you win, some you lose.”

  Canis scoffed, and then moved away from Troy, again leaning back against the edge of the pool, but still scowling deeply. “You’ve shown that you can’t be trusted. Next time I have the chance to stab you in the back, you’d better watch yourself.”

  Ajax was looking curious now.

  “Think what you are saying man,” said Plato. “We are a team. Everyone is going to get a bad break now and again, but we can’t start hating each other over it.”

  Canis had by now closed his eyes; he did not reply, merely shaking his head.

  “He’ll get over it,” muttered Plato.

  Troy nodded as he, too, moved away and leaned back in the warm, rejuvenating water. But a nagging part of him kept suggesting that perhaps Canis had a point.

  Level: Hoplite (Level 2)

  XP: 0210

  Hit points: 10/16

  Equipment: belt; bronze helmet; coin pouch; dagger.

  Chapter 10: The Race

  The next day, the recruits lined up just as before. Captain Theseus seemed less interested in picking on particular individuals, now. Indeed, he stayed back, walking from side to side and glanci
ng at them in silence for several minutes.

  Soon, the boys were getting restless. Troy glanced over at Plato. Was this a test of some kind? Having to stand in silence and do nothing? Plato was looking confident, however, perhaps buoyed by his newly-acquired sword, which he was patting gently.

  Troy had his new equipment too, including the helmet which was already weighing uncomfortably on his head. He was momentarily glad that they had stowed the club in the bushes; now that he had a dagger, he wouldn’t need it, and it was just another thing to carry around.

  Glancing around further, Troy noticed that Clio and the other female recruits were similarly lined up, not far away, standing in front of their own dormitory building. Their captain, the formidable red-haired woman, was stalking from one side to another, but like Captain Theseus, she wasn’t calling out any instructions.

  Was this really all part of the program?

  When the captain caught his eye, Troy faced the front again. “Hoplites,” barked Captain Theseus at last. “You have a simple task here at Nikodisia training ground: rise up, until you are ready to serve in the Spartan army. Now, as you know, your progress until that point is indicated in levels.” The bald man stopped, staring at them all with a slight curl of his upper lip. “Anyone who has yet to reach level two cannot join today’s task.”

  Troy and Plato glanced at each other. Troy felt momentarily relieved – after all, he had recently risen up a level. But Plato looked outraged. And on reflection, Troy could see why. Barring lower-level players from tournaments would prevent them from increasing their experience, and this in turn would stop them progressing to future events.