Admetus received his bowl from the vendor and, without a second's hesitation, began taking hearty bites of the roasted lamb. He was starving. The vendor chuckled softly, observing his fervor, and asked,
"Sire, why not sit at one of our benches? They're mostly empty."
"Hmm?" Admetus looked up mid-chew, processing the suggestion. His gaze shifted to the empty space between the food vendor's stall and the grain merchant's. Two men sat on a bench further back, overlooking the vast meadows beyond the marketplace. A cool breeze flowed through the alleyway, channeled by the stalls' tents.
"Oh, right. Yes, I'll take you up on that," he said, his words slightly muffled by the food. The vendor nodded respectfully.
Balancing the bronze bowl in his left hand and a small piece of lamb in his right, Admetus walked to the bench. Juices dripped from the meat onto his fingers, which he slurped clean as he sat. Guards stationed at the foot of the town hall staircase observed from a distance, patiently waiting as he finished his meal, unnoticed.
The two men on the back bench, backs to him, spoke quietly but distinctly enough for Admetus to catch a word:
"The shrouded women…"
He listened, attentive but discreet. They discussed the events from the previous day.
"Oh, you saw them?" one asked.
"Of course. They went everywhere announcing their warnings. I think no one in the city missed them."
"I was passing by the Alkmanis house. Huge crowd. I had to peek in."
"Strange, isn't it? Ominous news, yet the city remains calm."
"Don't be ridiculous," replied the other. "Arcadia destroyed? Laughable. Eden protects this city. Everyone knows that!"
"I know, but still… the guards never arrested those women."
"Perhaps they missed them. They moved fast, that massive carriage… and those horses. Unusual breed."
"True. Could be that."
Admetus finished his meal and rose, returning the bowl to the vendor.
"Brother, that was excellent. I'm satisfied."
The vendor smiled. "It's an honor, sire."
Admetus seized the moment. "Did you see the… shrouded women yesterday?"
"Yes, my lord. I was at the front of the crowd when they came to the Agora. I despised their message."
Admetus nodded thoughtfully. "Only black robes? No other colors, no jewelry?"
The vendor hesitated, then spoke carefully. "I may have noticed one detail others missed. The leader wore a heart-shaped necklace with pale golden engravings. She spoke, and she was… beautiful."
"Beautiful? You saw her face?"
"Yes. She removed her hood during the announcement."
Admetus felt a lead forming. "Can we have an artist draw her likeness?"
The vendor shook his head. "I… can't recall her features clearly. Most who saw her can't. Strange, isn't it?"
"Huh? But you remember she was beautiful?"
"I… honestly don't know, my lord. It's strange."
Admetus exhaled, a mix of frustration and amusement. "Nothing? Age, height?"
"I believe she was a witch—or an occultist. No one can remember her appearance. Sorry, sire."
Admetus raised a hand, stopping the vendor from bowing further. "Your food was delicious. You helped more than you realize."
He turned toward his guards at the bottom of the stairs, keeping an eye out for carriages. The muscular soldier approached.
"Anything wrong, my lord? What was the vendor telling you?"
"Oh, nothing major. Asking about the mysterious women from yesterday."
"You didn't see them—" the soldier began, but an elbow from a comrade reminded him: the general had been away on the Holy War, crossing mountains. No one expected him back in time to witness the occultists.
"I was exhausted from travel. Slept most of the day. The mayor called an early meeting, so I'm just on time," Admetus said with a hearty laugh.
The guards exchanged wry smiles, silently noting their general's carelessness.
"Alright! Let's see what the mayor has to say." Admetus ascended the stairs, the guards following dutifully. The golden doors swung open, and Admetus stepped inside. The guards remained outside, closing the doors behind them.
***
Inside a well-decorated chamber, the mayor, Khnouphis, sat at a large desk. Dark-complexioned, with short black hair and sharp eyes, he adjusted his posture and dipped a quill into ink, writing on an agreement. Footsteps approached, then halted. Without looking up, he said,
"You sure took your sweet time. What took so long?"
Admetus pulled out a chair. "I believe I'm right on time." The chair, foreign and luxurious, seemed out of place among Arcadia's usual décor, yet comfort made up for the oddity.
"So, what's happening?"
"They might be true," Khnouphis replied, finally glancing up. "The prophecies of the shrouded women from yesterday."