Let's head back to B.C. and see how Rider's doing...

P.S. As is true of much of Rider's storyline in B.C., some events in this scene are loosely based on and inspired by Greek myths - but of course with some twists ;)

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Scene 7: Aim

2020 B.C.

When Rider stopped, he did not like to stop for long. Passing presently through the realm of Larissa, where athletic games of great renown were to be held today, he could not have cared less for such events, such pointless nonsense. He paused only to buy food and drink to replenish his company's depleted supply. Only these, the barest of necessities — for Argos awaited, not far from this place, and Rider had no desire to delay the vengeance he would find once he arrived.

Lachesis was afraid of the determination in his eyes, but regardless of how fearsome it was — and despite the fact that, ever since Rider had become suspicious of what she had told Chrysaor, he now ignored her more than ever before — still she walked by his side.

"Pretty wife you got," a local remarked as the couple passed by.

Rider strode on through the marketplace right past the stranger, an adolescent boy whose searching gaze exuded mischief and a love of danger. Lachesis blushed to notice that the boy was following them as they approached the village baker. His eyes dropped from her face down to the heavy purse of coin that Rider gave as payment for the loaves he needed, agleam to see such fine gold spilled upon the baker's palm, then darted back up to the bashful bride again.

"Great wealth and a wife who resembles a princess — the famed princess Andromeda, no less, if the descriptions of her beauty are to be believed," the boy observed aloud, his gaze shifting to Rider. "Are you by any chance the man whose fame has swept across the land?"

Rider ignored the boy, almost as blatantly as he ignored his wife.

For her part, Lachesis regarded the boy with a curious glance. "Fame?"

"No doubt you've heard the tales of Perseus, the hero who soared high upon a flying horse and slew the monstrous Cetus? Who thereby won the hand and dowry of a princess?" the boy asked. "Rumor says it all transpired only recently, but rumor travels fast."

"Oh! I see," Lachesis smiled and felt her heart swell up with pride, to stand by her heroic husband's side; he was famous! "Well, that's—"

"Lachesis, why don't you go buy yourself a dress," Rider abruptly suggested, taking her hand up in his for a moment, just to press a few spare coins into her palm and nod toward a nearby tailor's stall.

And her heart swelled even more, at that — just at the momentary contact, at the words he spoke to her, the deep blue of his gaze for the few seconds that it lingered... this one morsel of the attention she would always crave from him... then as soon as it started, the moment was over, and she blinked away the happy trance to do as he had asked.

As she turned and went toward the tailor, she overheard the next few words that the boy uttered to Rider. "Deny it if you wish, but I know in my bones that you are Perseus. And I happen to know a secret which I reckon you might find to be of interest..."

Once Lachesis had purchased the prettiest dress, a lush garment of dark purple fit for a princess, she returned to her husband.

The boy had just disappeared into the crowd — after accepting a handful of gold for the secret he'd told — and Rider was currently speaking to Dictys.

The old man scowled, deep furrows forming in his brow. "Competing in the games, today? For what purpose?"

"For victory," Rider responded simply, though the darkness and the distance of his gaze betrayed an ulterior aim. "What else."

And he would give no further answer. Lachesis was just as perplexed as his elderly mentor, as was the rest of Rider's band upon learning that they were set to stay here in Larissa for the day. It made no sense; the man who would not stop for anything, intent upon his mission, had all of a sudden decided to stop to indulge in a frivolous sporting event. No one in his company had any clue what it meant.

In this final hour before the games began, it turned out that discus was the only event with an opening remaining for a new contestant. As fate would have it, one of the throwers who'd been planning to compete had fallen ill this morning and withdrawn. Rider had a good arm, but he had never thrown a discus in his life — Dictys knew this, having raised him ever since he was a small child.

But inexperience did not stop Rider from enrolling. It seemed that nothing would.

"Has Rider ever competed in athletic games before?" Lachesis asked Dictys as the two of them took seats among the spectators.

He shook his grey head. "Never had an interest. Even today, I doubt he does. Haven't the slightest idea what he means to accomplish."

Lachesis smoothed the sumptuous skirts of her new purple dress. She hoped that its rich, vivid color would catch Rider's eye where she sat in the audience. "Didn't he say that he wishes to win?"

Dictys stared out into the arena, absentmindedly watching the footrace that was taking place. "Rider seeks and values victory. But not in sport, in nonsense of this sort. Only in what matters to him."

Unsure what this was supposed to mean, Lachesis dropped the line of inquiry and waited patiently, hands clasped in her lap in anticipation of the discus event. The event that she was sure would be her dear husband's moment of glory. Heart full of certainty that there was no challenge, no feat, in which Rider would not succeed.

Beside her, Dictys watched with dread as the meaningless games carried on, heart uncertain and burdened by the growing sense in his gut that something was about to go terribly, inexorably wrong.

"Do you reckon he's going to do it?" a voice from just behind them butted in.

Both Dictys and Lachesis blinked, turning to see that the boy from the marketplace had settled into a seat nearby.

Lachesis creased her brows. "Do what?"

"Fulfill the prophecy. Against Acrisius," the boy stated, pointing across the arena toward a lonely old man seated in the stands. "The idiot's sitting right where he always does."

Dictys echoed the name as if it were a curse. "Acrisius?"

The boy nodded. "Everyone knows that he tried to escape the prophecy, by fleeing Argos once he learned his grandson was alive. Hoping that if he stayed hidden, then he might survive. But the old fool should've known: fate is a force from which no man can hide."

The backstory surrounding Acrisius sounded vaguely familiar to Lachesis, yet she remained rather confused, in all of this.

"A few of us here in Larissa came to know his secret," the boy explained. "He hid his true identity well, but not well enough. I'd always found his cowardice despicable, and his attempts to outmaneuver destiny reek of hubris — thus, once the legendary Perseus stumbled upon this realm, it was my pleasure to expose Acrisius."

So this was the valuable secret that he'd shared with Rider, in the market...

"For some payment, of course — but trust me, the price was well worth it. Competing in the games was my idea, you know," the boy continued. "I told Perseus that it would be his best shot. He can kill the old fool with impunity — just pretend it was an accident. Will have to have great aim, though... javelin would've made for an easier throw..."

As the boy spoke, Dictys was trembling, head shaking. "Oh, gods — oh, no..."

The discus event was about to begin. And from where he sat in the stands — voice muted by the clamor of the audience and path obstructed by the crowd, unable to reach Rider in time even if he tried — the poor old man was powerless against whatever was set to happen.

Watching Rider set foot in the arena, the boy's face lit up in a broad, knowing grin. "I guess we shall see if the power of the prophecy directs his hand today!"

Slowly, then, realization dawned on Lachesis as she reflected on what she had heard. Acrisius — the king of Argos who had locked his daughter and her child in a box and cast them off to likely death, for fear of a prophecy that the child would someday kill him. Surely Rider resented the man greatly for his mistreatment of Danaë, and today... she understood now. Rider wanted victory, but not in the arena. This was not a game.

He stepped up to take his turn. To take his aim.

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... Any thoughts? Predictions?  o_O

Next scene, we'll check in with Prof and Charliese in modern-day Greece...

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