Chapter 709: Volume Twenty: Wolf in the Mediterranean - Sixteen: Traitor
The racer who had once stood loftily upon the chariot like a deity now seemed rather odd, entangled in a tattered fishing net—it took a closer look to realize that it was actually a cape of fine quality. His face, which would remind one of the forging god Vulcan, was smeared black and grubby, with only the whites of his eyes and his teeth making it discernible as a human face. Wisps of smoke still trailed from his curly hair, the very image of a man who had just narrowly escaped a fire with his life.
The absurd and comical figure of the racer, intertwined with the eerily peculiar skeleton horse, left the audience in the Grand Arena feeling as if they were in the midst of a nightmare, until Komer’s distinctive appearance finally drew raucous laughter from them, breaking the spell and causing an uproarious awakening throughout the stands.
When the racers from other city-states and countries crossed the finish line, the spectators in the stands were horrified to find that two Spartan competitors—one had been speared to death against the carriage, and the other was paralyzed by a stone that had come from seemingly nowhere, slumped over next to the track. The subtle signs of conflict and blood that had emerged through the clouds of dust made the Spartans aware, for the first time, of the brutal dangers inherent in chariot racing, their pleasure usually built upon the sorrow of others; now, at last, they too tasted the bitter aftermath of grief.
The first to cheer were the people of Piraeus, witnessing their surprising victory over the Spartan racers and claiming the laurel wreath of the horse race. Regardless of the racer’s questionable identity, no matter how ridiculous his appearance, he had ultimately won the championship. This was an honor Piraeus City State had never received since its founding. Even if he wasn’t a representative of Piraeus, the mere fact that he had knocked the ever-proud Spartans off their decades-long monopoly was cause for jubilation.
Cheers erupted from every corner of the arena, from the crowds of the Southern Mediterranean’s various nations and city-states. Their excitement and ecstasy were a stark contrast to the despondent Spartans, who, accustomed to witnessing the downfall and death of others, were now keenly aware that their own nation was not invincible. It took this loss to shatter their beautiful dream, one they had believed unbreakable.
Enraged Spartan spectators began to unleash their dissatisfaction. Despite being surrounded by fully armed guards, they did not hide their disappointment and frustration. The mood quickly ignited, with the flames of discontent pointed, intentionally or not, at the kingdom’s government, complaining that the government had not valued the horse race sufficiently and had been lax and overly confident, causing the laurel to fall into other hands.
The Spartan guards, caught unprepared, were also at a loss, forced to stand guard passively against the stones and trash hurled by the frenzied crowd. They had never anticipated a defeat in a sport their nation consistently dominated, second only to gladiatorial combat. Now, the gold trophy in the shape of a horse-drawn carriage would have to be taken away by the people of Piraeus, to be displayed in their City Hall until it was returned four years later at the next Olympian festival to determine its fate. The widespread gloom and dejection spread instantly throughout Athens City.
The city was filled with drunken men causing chaos; the typically commendable discipline of the Spartans was now nowhere to be seen. They vandalized public infrastructure, attacked foreigners, and overnight, Athens became a veritable hell. It wasn’t until the guards received explicit orders and urgently deployed to apprehend the offenders that order began to be restored.
"Very good, this turmoil is exactly what we like to see. The confidence of the Spartans has been severely shaken—they’re no longer self-assured and no longer believe in Athena’s protection. Of course, this is just the beginning. The Gladiator Competition in two days will be when we truly destroy their confidence. We need to make them utterly disillusioned with Athena, enveloping the populace entirely in confusion and disappointment. That will be the perfect time for the Dark Lineage to make their move."
Komer stood by the window, coldly observing the noisy tumult on the streets below the hill, with occasional flames rising high—those were the rioters burning down public structures. The guards, clearly not yet in control of the situation, faced off against the public, fueled by alcohol and armed with stones, clubs, and even crudely made spears and axes, their weapons of choice against the fully armed soldiers.