The host himself came forward to mediate. Atalanta and Caenis exchanged a glance, then simultaneously stomped their feet and stepped back.
"Ladies, was there something lacking in our hospitality? Please, tell me!
All I ask is that you spare what little Calydon possesses. I'm counting on these very stores to reward the hero who slays the Demon Boar."
Prince Calydon was the first to take responsibility, his wry smile carrying a hint of self-mockery as he offered his gentle plea. Jason, standing beside him, quickly echoed the sentiment.
"Ask her."
Atalanta casually pointed at Caenis, outing the dark-skinned troublemaker who had started it all.
"Why're you looking at me? I couldn't sleep, so I went out for a walk—and while I was at it, I decided to give a little wake-up call to some people who were way too relaxed."
As everyone's eyes turned to her, Caenis—showing at least a trace of restraint—frowned and snorted.
Samael rolled his eyes, a fake smile tugging at his lips.
"So what, are we supposed to thank you for that?"
"Of course… it was just a small favor."
Her tone softened slightly when she noticed the white owl perched on Samael's shoulder, though the arrogance in her eyes hadn't entirely faded. Then, catching the collective "are you serious?" looks around her, she turned abruptly and disappeared into the nearby shrubs.
A moment later, amid the rustling wind, two figures came flying out from behind the bushes—bound together and dumped unceremoniously at Prince Calydon's feet.
When he saw the bruised yet still recognizable faces of the two old men, the prince froze, his breath catching. His expression darkened, and his veins nearly bulged.
"Lady Caenis… are you saying—"
"Oh, I was just taking a stroll when I overheard these two plotting to ambush your guests and 'teach them a lesson.'"
The dark-skinned beauty casually pointed toward Atalanta's group as she spoke, her voice carrying a lazy snort.
So you beat them up, tied them together, took their place, and then decided to test our vigilance?
If I say you meant well, you really did us a favor. But if I try to thank you, you go and pick a fight with the victims instead.
Seriously, how does your mind even work?
Samael was caught between laughter and disbelief, utterly speechless.
"My apologies, everyone," Prince Calydon said at last, bowing slightly. "This was Calydon's failing. Allow me to deal with this first, and I'll offer my apologies afterward."
Unable to endure the awkward air any longer, Caenis stretched lazily and turned on her heel, strolling off as if nothing had happened.
Prince Calydon, visibly uncomfortable, forced a tight smile before signaling for servants to carry off his unconscious uncles. Leaving an attendant behind to guide the guests, he followed soon after.
As he turned, Samael could faintly hear the sound of teeth grinding in frustration.
"Meleager really can't catch a break," Jason muttered softly, watching the prince's retreating back with a look of sympathy.
Samael feigned mild curiosity, prompting Jason to explain further.
In truth, Meleager had left the feast early precisely to apologize to Atalanta and her companions. But when he heard the sounds of combat, the already anxious prince rushed over with Jason, fearing his uncles were up to something foolish again.
When he arrived to find that the "battle" was merely Caenis and Atalanta sparring—a clash that, while destructive enough to leave the corridor half in ruins, was still more a test of skill than true hostility—he had still managed to smile.
But the moment Caenis dragged his two bound uncles out from behind the grove, the poor prince nearly had a stroke on the spot.
All his caution, all his planning—and he still couldn't stop his own idiot relatives from ruining everything.
It was safe to say that Meleager wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight.
"Every city-state has its arrogant fools. We haven't really lost anything—it's not his fault."
Hearing Jason's sigh, Atalanta couldn't help but feel a trace of pity for the unfortunate prince of Calydon and replied casually.
The golden-haired youth's face lit up at her words. He showered the huntress with praise for her wisdom and composure, but seeing Atalanta's growing impatience, he quickly excused himself under the pretext of delivering the good news to Prince Calydon.
Samael rose to see him off. When they reached the corner, the ancient serpent spoke in a low, amused voice.
"You're the one who told Meleager to come and apologize—and the one who warned him to watch his two uncles, right?"
Jason blinked, then turned with a grin full of admiration.
"I didn't think you'd see through that. Impressive, old pal Theseus! No wonder you've got so many beautiful women around you—you're something else!"
Then, the golden-haired youth tapped his temple and said candidly,
"I don't have many talents, but I do get this strange feeling whenever danger's near. After Meleager kicked his two uncles out of the banquet, my eyelid started twitching—it just felt like something bad was coming.
So I figured, might as well grab him for a drink and check things out while we're at it."
Samael nodded slowly, finally understanding how everything had unfolded.
Then Jason, completely dropping the topic of drinks, smiled and urged him cheerfully,
"Anyway, go get some rest. Big day tomorrow."
A quarter of an hour later, standing at the door of his assigned quarters, the ancient serpent finally understood the real meaning behind Jason's knowing grin.
The Calydon Hunt had gathered heroes from all across Greece. With so many guests, the palace had limited rooms—so most of them were shared, two to a room.
That silly bird Circe had been paired with Caenis. As for Samael, his roommate was Atalanta.
Sharing a room was fine. The problem was—why was there only one bed? And a double, at that.
Samael stared at the lone spread-out bedding, his lips twitching slightly.
After a brief silence, he spoke in a subdued tone.
"Big Sis, I just remembered—Jason and the others asked me out for drinks."
"That smooth-tongued fool? Don't get mixed up with them," Atalanta replied, frowning as she arranged the bedding.
"Then… should I go talk to His Highness? Maybe have them bring in another bed?"
"Forget it. It's late, and Meleager's probably up to his neck in trouble already. No need to bother him over something like this."
"I see. Then I'll go for a walk—you go ahead and sleep."
"Don't wander off. He's got more than just two uncles."
Her tone carried a hint of care that didn't escape him. Watching the graceful huntress bent over the bedding, Samael felt a strange warmth rise in his chest.
What are you waiting for? Just go for it!
"Then we…"
"I'll take the floor. You sleep on the bed. Even Heracles is here—looks like that Demon Boar won't be easy to handle.
Didn't you say you wanted to compete with me? Then rest up and save your strength for tomorrow."
Atalanta tossed a set of bedding onto the floor, patted Samael's shoulder encouragingly, and spoke with her usual calm determination.
The ancient serpent's smile froze. He nodded stiffly and sensibly crawled into bed. When he glanced back, Atalanta was already lying down, fully dressed, her breathing steady and relaxed.
Within minutes, she was asleep.
Big Sis, you really are something else…
Samael turned onto his side with a sigh, resting his head on his arm.
Man, I really want to pet a cat… in every sense of the word.