The Scythian is not a vary hard woman to find. Her villa near the largest harbor is always a bustle of activity, mostly women. She is always in it too, being the mistress of the Daughters of Athena.
Alexius saunters to a guarded gate in his usual drunken stride. He stopped to slump next to a woman overlooking a cart full of supplies. He checked through his shaggy and unkempt hair that no eyes were on him before he hissed to get the woman's attention, she glared over her shoulder at him.
“Do you know the lady that owns this place?” Alexius slurred while meeting her eyes.
She stared at him for a moment before she nodded, “she is the late masters only child.”
Alexius checked for curious eyes again before he tugged the collar of his tunic down enough to show a gorgon tattoo over his heart, “I know her cousin.”
“How are they related?” The woman asked, now doing her best to look busy while giving him her full attention.
“Great aunt,” Alexius slured, “I think. Oh, she gave a message for her.”
“Was no one else available?” She asked.
“I was passing by,” his slur started to disapeer. “She also doesn’t like marching feet.”
The woman draws three symbols on a box in chalk and leaves them there for a few heart beats. She then erases them as Alexius disappears into the alley that circles the villa.
Alexius’ gate evens as he walks into the shadows of the alley, he pauses at the first corner to carefully peered around it. The dark shadows of the cavernous alley eb away to reveal a cluttering of discarded planks and rotted crates. He slips around the corner as he recalls the markings the woman showed him, a set of coded directions for the hidden back door of the villa. From the corner he inspects portions of the wall that have had the plaster flake away with age, wear, and more than likely purposeful intent. On the third patch of exposed brick he finds what he was looking for, the sigil for the Daughters of Athena, a simple circle with a vertical line running through it.
The markings use this brick as a starting point. From the brick he counts two up and knocks once, the brick sinking into the wall slightly. Back to the symbol he counts one down and three left and knocks twice. Again to the symbol and right five and down two for four knocks.
The brick with Athena’s symbol is pulled away and replaced by a set of blue eyes, “who sent you?”
Again Alexius tugs his shirt down to show the gorgon over his heart, “my mistress sent me with a message for the Scythian.”
The brick returns to its place and the bricks he knocked on are pushed flush with the wall again. To his right a small part of the exposed brick sinks away to show an opening big enough for a small man or a large woman to slip through. With a sigh Alexius goes to his knees and wiggles his way into the villa.
The room he enters is full of ten women with long and very sharp knives. None of them were wearing typical women's clothes, none of them had head coverings. They dressed like soldiers, with chainmail and pants, and each wore their hair in tight and intricate braids that clung to their scalp. With their long knives and scarred faces it was not the warmest of welcomes but Alexius was not surprised given the reputation of these warrior-women amongst the rest of the Amazons.
“What’s the message?” The largest of the women asked tersely, the jagged accent had to be Hunnic.
“I don’t know about the other Sisterhoods,” Alexius said calmly as he stood, “but when my mistress tells me to deliver a message to someone she expects it hand delivered to who she wants to know. I am not allowed to give it to an intermediary.”
The woman takes a step to him and it becomes obvious just ho
much taller she is to him. In response Alexius gives her an unamused look only to pinch his nose in frustration.
“You are obviously new to the city,” Alexius says calmly, “The scar on your chin looks fresh, and your accent is thick enough for me to guess that this might be your first time speaking Greek. That would mean that you arrived last month, that was when the Daughters of Athena swap out their garrison here.”
“Message,” the woman growled.
Alexius sighed and looked to the other women in the empty room. He immediately sees a smaller woman with green eyes by the door.and recognition dawns on him, “Medea, my mistress wants me on the other side of the straight by days end. Can we please move this along?”
“You’re no fun,” Medea wines.
The large woman breaks out in a laugh and clasped her hand on his shoulder, “you do not even flinch!”
“I’ve been at this too long for you to intimidate me,” Alexius says.
“Come.” the short order from Medea is enough to end the conversation.
Alexius follows the order with no hesitation, his strides bringing him a step behind her. He then follows her through the villa and around many right hand turns. Occasionally he would see a woman in armor or a servant of some kind cleaning, but Alexius has seen enough of warriors and soldiers to see that they would put up more than a fight if need be. The stronghold of the Daughters of Athena is truly a terrifying thing.
When they finally entered the Scythians office it was a cluttering of parchments stacked a foot high on each and every surface, with the Scythian herself standing with her back to the door by a shelf full of scrolls. When she looked at who had entered Alexius examined her with a cold look, this was not the Scythian he remembered. The Scythian he knew was like the woman from before, tall and sturdily built with scars she wore with pride. This woman was shorter than him and looked young and fresh faced. Not only that but she didn’t look like any kind of person from the empire or surrounding lands. The most strikingly different aspect of her that was different were her eyes, wider than they were tall. He’d heard of an envoy like her once, his party was from an eastern empire past the Indus and in the home of silk.
Alexius gave a short bow, “I was not aware that there was a new Scythian. I am sure that my mistress will be pleased to learn this.”
“Medea, who is this man and why was he allowed into my chambers?” The Scythian asked, Alexius noted that she barely had any kind of accent.
“He is a finger for a Daughter of Nyx,” Medea said. “He serves as a spy for us and he has come to give you a message from his mistress.”
Alexius stayed silent as the women discussed him, it wasn’t his place to speak unless spoken too. Daughters of Athena are known for their short tempers. To his surprise the Scythian walked up to him and offered him her hand.
“May I know your name?” She asked.
“I have many,” he said and took her hand, noticing the scars that criss-cross her knuckles, “and none are worth remembering.”
“Very well, what is the message?” She asked.
“Be ready for Troy comes again.” he told her. “Pieces are falling into place for the Amazons to leave the shadows and secrets.”
“Be ready?” The Scythian repeated. “Is that all? And what's this about Troy?”
“Troy is one of the most pivotal moments in our history mistress,” Medea said. “It was the largest war the Amazons have ever fought in. It lasted six years and much of our society changed in that time. The only more significant event would be the diaspora to escape Bloody Alexander's March East. We now use that event as a code for great change. The last time any Amazon invoked it was when the last remnants of the Western Empire fell to barbarians.”
“So we are looking at the start of a new war?” The Scythian asked.
“Not so much a war as an overthrowing of the current political status quo,” Alexius corrected. “From the information that my mistress allowed me to learn, maybe a riot or small revolt. Now, if there is nothing else you wish to ask I must depart.”
“Prepare for a revolt,” the Scythian nodded, “if there is nothing else you need to tell us then you may go. Medea stay here, I’m sure the spy memorized to way out.”
Alexius gave another small bow and quickly left the room. Medea watched him go and when she turned to the Scythian she found the small women sprawled over a chair and resting sideways on an open palm.
“This is not the best first day,” the Scythian sighed and looked over the cluttered mess of room. “How in the name of the goddesses did my predecessor get anything done in this chaos?”
“I am not sure she did, mistress,” Medea admitted. “The previous Scythian was more of a warrior than a leader. I’m the one who did most of the clerical work for the sisterhood.”
“How many sisters do we have ready?”
“Six thousand in the city, fifty thousand training with the Huns, and another fourteen thousand testing their metal against the Veneti, there is another twenty thousand throughout the empire in groups of two hundred with Alexandria having the next highest number of sisters at three thousand,” Medea said. “These are all rough numbers of course.”
“Seventy thousand fighting women in total,” the Scythian hummed in thought. “In Zhong Gou such numbers would be considered a small army. Call ten thousand from the Huns and have them ready near the city. What were the spies called again?”
“The Daughters of Nyx,’ Medea answered.
“Yes,” the Scythian nodded, “work with them to keep them secret and ready to move if need be. Send word to all the sisters in the city to be ready.”
