An outsider was challenging a divine trial, offering a sacrifice to the war god Ares in exchange for the Golden Fleece.
When this explosive news spread through the city, the reactions were mixed. Some were stunned or faintly regretful, others openly delighted at the prospect of disaster.
From experience, most people assumed this was just another arrogant fool dreaming of instant fame, utterly ignorant of the danger involved. His end would likely be no different from the foreigners before him—dying in the trial and becoming fertilizer for the soil.
Even so, there was little worth anticipating these days besides such spectacles. Before dawn had fully broken, hundreds of thrill-seekers gathered outside the city at the infamous sacred field. They leaned against the earthen ridges with folded arms, waiting for the show to begin.
The shrewdest opportunists in Colchis went even further. Seizing the moment, they set up betting stalls, placing a statue of Hermes, god of commerce and travelers, on display as they opened wagers on how long the challenger would last.
With the city's rugged customs and long familiarity with such events, participants poured in nonstop.
Before long, the King of Colchis arrived in person with his guard. Whether it was the vigorous King Aeetes standing tall upon his chariot, or the ranks of heavily armored warriors lined up in stern formation, every face bore the same malicious amusement. To them, this was nothing more than a diversion to relieve the tedium of daily life.
At dawn, beyond the city walls, the sacred field.
The challenger arrived exactly on time. Sword and shield in hand, accompanied by several companions, he pushed through the dense crowd and stepped solemnly onto the ridge of the field.
The sacred field covered a full four acres, yet the soil was barren and hard, scattered with stones. Even an ordinary spear thrust into the ground would sink only a few inches at most.
At its center stood an enormous yoke and plow cast entirely of bronze. Both sides were carved with dense divine runes and scenes of slaughter and sacrifice, standing there with a chilling presence.
The challenger, named Jason, stared at the contraption that looked exhausting just to steady, and couldn't help groaning to himself. His resolve wavered.
...
The day before, at the suggestion of Theseus, foster son of the goddess of wisdom, the captain of the Argo had finally steeled himself. Bringing several companions and carrying Athena's olive branch, symbol of peace, he went to the royal palace of Colchis.
When he met the king, Jason did not conceal his intentions and explained his purpose in full.
The King of Colchis smiled warmly and appeared surprisingly accommodating, stating only one condition: Jason must complete two trials, and then the Golden Fleece would be handed over without protest.
"First, the Golden Fleece is a sacred offering to Lord Ares. You must perform the sacrifice to Lord Ares in my place and earn his approval.
"Slaughter and blood, whether that of enemies or your own, are the finest offerings to that god of frenzied war.
"The process is simple. I possess two divine oxen. Their hooves are bronze, their nostrils breathe fire, and their ferocity is unmatched. At dawn on the day of sacrifice, I drive them to plow the four acres of the sacred field.
"Once the soil is turned, I scatter the poisoned teeth of a dragon.
"By nightfall, vicious warriors sprout from the furrows. They rush at me from all sides, and I must cut them down one by one with my sword.
"I preside over this ritual every time. I do wonder whether Athena's protégé, relying on that eloquent tongue of his, can somehow survive to the end.
"Second, if you live, the Golden Fleece hangs within the sacred grove of Lord Ares, guarded by a dragon that never sleeps. If you think you have the ability, go and take it."
Jason, acutely sensitive to danger, gradually grasped the implication behind those words. His heart hammered wildly, half-afraid the guards nearby would suddenly surround him and strike him down.
In truth, the frenzied war god worshipped by the King of Colchis was laughably weak in actual combat. However, his temper was violent and his pride immense. Whenever he believed his honor was at stake, he would insist on fighting it out—losing again and again, yet never learning his lesson.
Ares and Athena were both gods of war, and long-standing enemies.
Yet here was Jason, sailing the Argo from the war god's own domain, holding Athena's olive branch, and seeking to take away the Golden Fleece meant as an offering to Ares. It was blatant provocation.
Even if King Aeetes wanted to simply drive the Argonauts away and refuse them outright, the matter concerned a chief god's pride.
Ares would never swallow such an insult. Instead, he would issue divine oracles to pressure his followers, using the chance to teach Jason a lesson and suppress the arrogance of his rival, Athena.
What's more, slaying the followers of an enemy deity and offering them in sacrifice to one's own patron god promised rewards beyond measure.
So, in the King of Colchis's eyes, Jason was nothing more than a perfect sacrificial offering to further his own agenda.
The more awkward and ridiculous this fool acted, the more pleased the god of war, Ares, would be, and the greater the rewards he would bestow.
As for the Golden Fleece? With Jason's abilities, how could he ever hope to claim the sacred relic of Colchis?
Having laid out two perilous conditions, the King of Colchis was supremely confident in his victory, just waiting to watch this follower of Athena make a fool of himself.
At that moment, Jason could feel the growing tension in the air. His eyes darted around, trying to locate the treacherous friend who had "advised" him, but after scanning the entire crowd, he couldn't find him anywhere.
Seeing this, the captain's unease grew. If not for all the eyes upon him, the overwhelming sense of danger building in his mind might have driven him to run for his life.
"Woo—woo!"
Moments later, with a cold, dismissive wave from the King of Colchis, the priests of Ares's temple blew the war horns. The eerie, ominous sound drowned out the noise of the crowd, and the priests moved to lift the spell sealing the distant cave entrance.
"Moo! Moo!"
Before Jason could complain further, two thunderous roars, like rolling thunder, echoed from the cave, sending shockwaves through the air and intimidating everyone in sight.
"Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!"
The ground of the sacred field trembled as two divine bulls, seemingly forged from bronze, charged toward Jason, their horns raised like deadly weapons.
Flames blasted from their nostrils with every breath, scorching the air around them. Their eight bronze hooves hammered against the sacred ground, turning the stones in their path to dust.
Seeing the Colchis guards, stationed around the sacred field to monitor and seal off the area, already in position, Jason took a deep breath. He resigned himself to his fate, drawing his sword and shield, gritting his teeth as he braced himself against the searing heat of the flames, and charged straight at the two divine bulls.
Theseus, you better have known what you were talking about. Don't you dare screw me over!
Under the stunned gazes of the crowd, the challenger, his skin now gleaming with a metallic bronze sheen from the intense heat, skillfully dodged between the two raging bulls, emerging completely unharmed.
It works!
Jason sidestepped the bulls' charges with ease, feeling the Ether swirling around him and the protective layer forming on his skin. His face lit up with a grin.
Now that he could tell the ointment had made him far stronger—he could withstand even several blows from the divine bulls without feeling any pain—his fear melted away. As the danger grew, he found himself handling the situation with increasing confidence and skill.