Chapter 5: Kratos

Upon arriving at Laccnia, the Spartans watched with ash-stricken faces as Axel is carried off on a stretcher, towards the medical wing. Tristan limped off after him. Raphael is reunited with Mikel as Raphael shared his suspicions wtih him over a cup of wine in their tent.

"Who do you suspect then, Raphael?"

"Honestly, I have no clue."

A long silence passed in the tent as the two friends considered their next move. Tristan was injured, their general barely alive, two inexperienced soldiers in the heart of the most gruesome war Greece has ever been involved in, just about the pefect combination. Raphael removed his scabbard and laid it on the ground, got up and began to pace the room. Mikel's eyes followed Raphaels's movement, only breaking eye contact once or twice to take a sip of wine.

The sun had started to set, casting a shadowy gloom over the Spartan encampment. The torches were lit and some of the soldiers, especially the wounded had retreated into their tents and were resting. Raphael's tent was exceptionally quiet. He had initially shared with Mikel, Tristan and another three soldiers. Now, Tristan was in the hospital wing, while the other three were either buried in makeshift tombs or rotting on the battlefield.

The fire within the tent crackled eerily, sending soft sparks of flames to the ground. Raphael and Mikel had not spoken since dinner. So far, they have not discovered anyone who had a reason to betray them. Suddenly, someone pulled back the shawls of the tent and entered. Raphael picked up his sword and sprang to his feet.

"WHO'S THERE!?"

"Peace, soldier, put down your weapon."

The voice which came was deep and rough. Raphael's arm remained as tense, not wanting to lower his guard and end up making a fatal mistake. Mikel lit a fire and raised it towards the intruder.

A pair of dark brown eyes. Pale skin. A bald head. A short beard at the chin, a scar beneath the left eye. Red tattos the right side of his body. Thick chains wrapped around both his wrists, thinning and dissapearing behind his back. He was very well built, his muscles well defined. His height matched that of the fallen barbarian commander, Zroma. His waist was wrapped with a piece of loincloth made out of tiger skin. It was General Kratos, recovered from his injuries.At last, Raphael's arm relaxed and he put his sword back in his scabbard.

"Tristan tells me that you have suspicions of a turncoat in our army."

"Yes, general."

"Curses!We shall find this traitor and execute him."

"With all due respect commander, how do we do that, for neither Raphael nor I have any clue as to who it is." Mikel said.

"We will lure him out. You, Mikel, is it?Grab your sword and follow me. Raphael, I leave you in command, if there are any attacks, protect Laccnia with your life."

"Understood, commander."

Mikel and Kratos left the tent , went to the stables, grabbed two horses and rode out into the forest.In the darkness of the night, Mikel could vaguely make out two cresent-like metal shapes resting against Kratos' lower back. Kratos had chosen not to wear any armour when they went out.

"What are we supposed to do, commander?"

"If it is true that there is a traitor, he will surely follow us. Axel is immobile and I am acting commander. I bring you out and leave Raphael behind, giving an impression that we are about to launch an assault. The turncoat will definitely try to find out what we plan to do. Now,stay alert!"

Kratos turned a sharp corner and Mikel followed, almost losing his balance as he made the abrupt turn. They rode for another 5 miles, and came to a stop. Kratos dismounted and went over to Mikel.

"Keep you senses sharp, I feel the presence of a third man."

The two men listened with all their concentration for a single sound that would give away the traitor's position. A snap of a twig, some 400 yards away, followed by the sound of metal boots hammering on the grass, someone was running away. Mikel drew his sword and was about to give chase when Kratos stood in front of him obstructing his path. Kratos' hands to his lower back and he drew two swords. Under the moonlight, Mikel could see that the blades were curved like the shape of a crescent, and were very wide but they were short, only half the length of a regular sword. Kratos threw his hands in a forward motion and Mikel realised what those chains on his hands were. As Kratos threw his blades, the chains extended, causing the short blades to extend a very long distance.

The steel of Kratos' blades found its target, and from a distance, Mikel saw something fall to the ground. The chains retracted towards Kratos and so did the blades. Mikel stared at the blades. All his life he had never seen such a unique weapon, nor someone who had the ability to wield swords at such a distance.Kratos saw the look of wonder on Mikel's face and smiled.

"The Blades of Chaos, gifts from Ares himself."

"Ares?"

"Yes, the God of War gave me these weapons, along with the curse. The chains will never leave my flesh, burned into them. A small price to pay for such powerful weapons."

Kratos and Mikel went towards the corpse to discover the identity of the traitor. They couldn't. It was just a regular soldier. They did not know his name, nor did they know of a motive. There was no use hoping for an answer either, Kratos' blade cut clean through his neck, beheading him.

"What now, general?"

"We cannot ponder too much now. With the traitor out of the way, we can now carry out plans without worry. And the wisest thing to do now, is to attack Hispanic again. This time, I will lead the charge.Let's return to camp. Tomorrow, before the sun sets, we shall take Hispanic, or be buried under it."