Your eyes open, and it is morning in Trachis. Your bed is peaceful - you are reassured to find that you possess your heavily-muscled frame once more, and not the frail form of a boy.

You take several minutes to find your bearings, and steady your mind. You dress yourself in the gear that fat Eurykratides had provided you at the start of the Oetian Games – lion’s hide and club. You resolve to put the events of the dream behind you as best as you can, barring the order of Tisiphone to preserve the wellbeing of Hyperbius. Seers of all the great cities tie themselves in knots attempting to discern the rationale behind the gods’ behavior, and are no better off for it. Better to forget it entirely, if you can. You must clear your head and put aside the distracting riddles of the divines until you have time to puzzle over them at some future point - today, you and the other five competitors will meet the challenge of the “Cretan Bulls”!

Given that Eurkyratides has had twelve years to plan these games, you rather expect that each challenge will mount in complexity and showmanship, all the better to drive up his own fame and popularity. After all, building the wealth and prestige of the Trachian king is the true goal of the Games, you expect, despite the ostensible purpose of pleasing Heracles Προμαχος. As you find your way through the shabby halls of the Trachian Royal Palace, you wonder if you had misjudged the portly king entirely – you had initially conceived him to be an idiot, out of his depth, putting on a tournament that he could not actually arrange to completion. But as you turn into the entrance hall, you are immediately mobbed by servants, slaves, guests of all kinds, and among the chattering crowd, noblemen and noblewomen alike. You recognize none of these last, but their number alone suggests that the Oetian Games must be a smashing success - Eurykratides’ vault is no doubt filling to the absolute brim with guest-gifts! A clever king retains the choicest of these for his own collection and distributes the remainder to new arrivals in turn.

It seems you had slumbered somewhat later than expected, and this was the source of some consternation, although none had yet dared to disturb your rest. You are quickly bustled outside to Eurykratides’ stables, as adulating men and lusting women scream for your attentions. In a few minutes more, you are riding in your own chariot, pulled by four sons of Arion – Surf, Tide, Bounty and Plenty, and Eurykratides himself joins you in the car. You ride from Trachis down the slopes of the hills to the Malian Gulf - the waves sparkle on the horizon in the clear morning light. The roads are swamped with travelers, vagrants, Achaeans, Danaans, Hellenes, Malians and once, you think you even spot a half-civilized Thessalian, dressed in out-of-fashion robes. Your chariot can only make swift progress due to an advance team of horsemen who beat aside the road-weary with clubs and spear-butts.