The Villain of Ancient Greece

At the same moment, on the Areios Pagos, at Hestia’s residence.

The goddess of the hearth, up early that morning, looked at the niece who had appeared at her door and listened to the news she brought, blinking in mild surprise.

”You said he is back?”

”Yes. He arrived last night. Today he is taking his student, a girl named Atalanta, to register at the Athenian Academy. He should be up the hill by afternoon at the latest or early evening.”

Athena smiled and nodded, raising a hand to dab at the light perspiration on her forehead, looking for all the world like someone who had just finished a thoroughly satisfying morning workout.

It had to be said. Getting a proper hit in on that certain person was becoming increasingly difficult to arrange.

Not just the words, but the way he dodged and made himself scarce—both of those had grown disturbingly practiced.

He had clearly been putting in serious work behind the scenes to avoid getting beaten up.

This was no longer an ordinary case of operating outside the law. It required serious force. A combination attack, chained together.

Athena glanced at her aunt inside the room, whose expression was cycling through several complicated things at once, her bright eyes glimmering quietly.

Thud.

Hestia, who had caught up with the situation, slapped the table and stood straight up, fixing the air in front of her with a ferocious glare, grinding her teeth.

”Perfect timing. Just wait until tonight and see how I welcome him.”

”A welcoming dinner, yes? Me, me, count me in, I know exactly how to do this.”

Hearing the commotion from the sitting room, Circe, who had been spending a lot of time with Hestia lately, poked her head down from upstairs, waving her arms in excited insistence.

”I have been working on quite a few new recipes. This is the perfect chance to let him try them.”

”Good. We do it together.”

Hestia welcomed the half-fellow-enthusiast’s support without hesitation, then picked up the cleaver and spatula that served as her personal weapons and made her preparations with fearsome purpose.

”There are plenty of ingredients in the kitchen, more than enough for a proper dinner party tonight.

No need to go out and buy anything. There is still plenty of time before nightfall. I will handle the main dishes and the staples. Circe, you like making soups. Simmer a few pots, and make sure you use your best recipes.”

”Done.”

Given the green light, the great witch’s eyes lit up at once as she nodded repeatedly and bolted into the kitchen to claim one of the stovetops.

Just as Hestia was about to close the door and begin preparing a hearty, loving dinner, Athena at the doorway raised her hand with a smile.

”Aunt. Let me try my hand at something too.”

”You?”

Hestia was taken aback, a hint of doubt on her face. ”Have you ever actually cooked before?”

Athena pursed her lips, speaking meaningfully.

”Isn’t this even better?”

”You’re right.”

Hestia slapped her own forehead, understood immediately, and pressed the soup ladle into her niece’s hand with a deeply satisfied cold smile.

”Here then. You are head chef tonight.”

Athena accepted the cooking utensil that symbolized the transfer of kitchen authority for the evening with obvious pleasure and, under the goddess of the hearth’s guidance, stepped formally into that sacred territory.

A flame lit on the stovetop.

Hestia, having fully relinquished control, stood to one side and provided humane culinary guidance to a certain newcomer to the kitchen.

”Start with some pastry for the main course. First step: pour in the flour.”

”Right.” The goddess of wisdom, who never did anything by halves, did not wait for Hestia to finish before she hefted half a sack of flour and poured it all into the mixing bowl.

Seeing her niece already fully committed, Hestia felt a flicker of approval. ”Good. Now add a little sugar.”

Before she could finish speaking, Athena was already in motion, executing the instruction with confident decisiveness.

A cone-shaped mountain rose from the mixing bowl.

The goddess of the hearth looked at the mountain of sugar, taller than the flour beneath it, and then looked at her niece, who stood with perfect upright confidence.

A long silence passed before the words finally forced themselves out.

”A... little...”

Athena’s confident smile froze.

Her gaze drifted vaguely to the roof beams, and she coughed lightly.

”It is for him, after all. It ought to be a little special.”

”Well. All right. Go ahead and follow your own judgment then.”

The taciturn Hestia had no choice but to abandon her intention to give on-the-spot guidance, leaving the stove entirely to her niece to work on.

She herself slipped quickly out of the kitchen, intending to add something to the wine she had been privately brewing in the cellar.

There was simply no helping it.

She was the goddess who presided over the hearth and over food.

Watching someone ruin ingredients in her presence was more than she could bear to look at.

But she soon had reason to deeply regret that decision.

* * *

Boom.

Lorne, who had brought Medusa along under the pretext of catching up and was lying in wait in the grove near the Athenian Academy, jolted and looked up toward the sound.

The ground shook.

Dense smoke carrying the smell of something scorched rolled outward, accompanied by a clattering and clanging, and he caught a glimpse of what appeared to be fragments of pots and bowls.

”That is...”

”Lady Hestia’s house.” Medusa beside him answered without looking up, wearing the expression of someone who had seen it all before. ”Probably she and Lady Circe are working on a new recipe again.”

A new recipe.

Lorne swallowed and quietly retracted his neck.

Unless he was very much mistaken, that new recipe was being prepared for him.

Judging by the commotion, he could be blown to bits just by standing nearby, let alone eating it.

Luckily, he was smart enough not to go straight up and walk into the trap after dropping off Atalanta.

Instead, he dragged Medusa along to stake out the outskirts of the Academy of Athens, waiting for Chiron to finish school in the evening so he and the previous teacher, Mr. Horse, could go over.

”Come to think of it, today’s dish seems to be making quite a lot of noise.”

Medusa stared at the residence, continuing to billow smoke in the distance, and muttered with quiet puzzlement.

* * *

”My kitchen!”

Hestia, just returning from the cellar, looked at the roof that had ceased to exist, felt the world go dark before her eyes, dropped both jars of wine she was carrying, and ran into the kitchen with a wail.

Through the billowing smoke, her once clean and orderly sanctuary was completely unrecognizable, craters of various sizes scattered everywhere in the aftermath of the explosion.

Just as Hestia stood there with fury and grief battling inside her, a hand shot out from beneath the rubble and seized her ankle.

”Help. Help me.”

Something covered in soot, trailing a pair of badly singed wings, let out a miserable sound, eyes glistening with tears.

”Circe? Who did this to you?”

Under Hestia’s grief-stricken question, Circle tremblingly raised its hand, pointing to the epicenter of the explosion.

As the smoke and dust dissipated, a goddess of wisdom, clad in cyan-gold armor, one hand holding the Aegis shield and the other resting her chin on her hand, gazed at the deep crater in the ground, her brows furrowed in deep thought, muttering to herself.

”It should not have happened. My ratios and conversion formula were essentially correct. Where exactly did it go wrong?”

Hestia, seeing this, suddenly realized the problem and felt a chill run down her spine as she weakly raised her hand to advise, ”Athena. It is just dinner. Perhaps you should take a break and let me handle it?”

”Absolutely not. When I decide to do something, I see it through properly.”

The latter shook her head without hesitation, her eyes bright with unshaken confidence and pride.

”Besides, what situation have I not handled? It is just cooking. What could possibly be beyond me?”

As she spoke, the goddess of wisdom at the stovetop traced out lines of Hermetic script through the air.

The craters in the floor filled themselves in swiftly, and the shattered cookware and utensils restored themselves to their original state.

In the span of a moment, the devastated kitchen reconstructed itself back to normal.

With the workspace successfully rebuilt, Athena gave a satisfied nod, then turned to wave Hestia toward the door. ”Aunt, you two go and rest outside for now. I will take care of everything for tonight’s dinner.”

Hestia opened her mouth to speak, but seeing Athena already flipping through the recipe book by the stovetop and relighting the fire to begin a fresh round of culinary research, she thought better of it, grabbed the half-dead Circe off the floor, and fled the kitchen in haste.

As the two of them ran, they glanced back at the kitchen flickering with an unnatural glow of red, blue, teal, and violet, with lightning, smoke, and sparks appearing at unpredictable intervals, and felt a chill run down their spines.

The original plan was just to give that certain person a small lesson he would not forget.

But somehow it felt as though something considerably more dangerous had been set loose in the process.

* * *

Early evening.

Chiron had barely stepped through the gates of the Athenian Academy after classes when a figure burst out of the nearby shrubbery and grabbed him on the spot.

”Professor Horse, all done for the day? Come on, come on, time for dinner.”

Lorne, who had been waiting there, beamed with enthusiasm, pulling Chiron along the mountain path leading to Hestia’s mansion without a word.

His impatient manner made Chiron somewhat puzzled and hesitant.

”Should we not bring Atalanta along for the home visit? She has not come out yet. Should we wait?”

”Medusa apparently made plans with her to go somewhere else this evening. Let us go ahead; no need to worry about it.”

Lorne explained this briefly, then put on a suitably serious face and offered some gentle persuasion while continuing to steer Chiron forward.

”Everything on the mountain is already prepared. It would be a shame to let it go cold after everyone went to the trouble.”

Having had it put to him that way, the mild-natured Chiron could not politely refuse any further and followed Lorne’s lead up toward the goddess of the hearth’s residence.

Seeing that he had finally managed to trick the centaur onto his side, Lorne secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

Originally he had planned to bring Atalanta along as well, introduce her to the goddesses over dinner, and play on everyone’s affection.

But while he was waiting, the building on the hill had proceeded to explode seventeen or eighteen times in succession, each one louder than the last, and Lorne felt his nerves fraying with every blast.

This was not the small, corrective punishment he had estimated.

This was a mountain of blades and a sea of fire, with very poor survival odds.

For safety’s sake, it was better to let Medusa take Atalanta and make themselves scarce in advance.

Grown-up matters were not for young eyes.

Would you not agree, Professor Horse?

Lorne muttered to himself, then cheerfully hooked an arm around the centaur sage’s neck, and the two of them crossed the cracked stone steps together and carefully pushed open the door to Hestia’s residence.

”I am back.”

”Good. Come in, come in.”

”Quickly, quickly, get inside.”

Two voices rang out from inside, filled with unmistakable excitement.

Hestia and Circe burst out of their respective corners, faces beaming with radiant smiles, rushing to usher Lorne inside with every appearance of welcoming a beloved guest home, with no sign whatsoever of anyone preparing to settle accounts.

(End of Chapter)