You were walking through the halls of Scyros’ castle. It was a grand site, to be honest. There were gold accents and colourful banners all along the pure white building, with some statues of gods littered around the building in isolated corners or outside places deemed special, holy.

The heart of the castle, as well as the entire upper west wing, was dedicated and renovated to suit the tastes of Pyrrhus- the prince. Two years ago, after conquering Troy, he returned. Out of joy and celebration, everyone decided to give him this gift. He’s turned 16 a month ago, signs of the feast that accompanied the event still linger in the dining room- and even more so in the kitchens.

While you continue your stroll, you run into a statue of Pyrrhus (the prince rather liked having these grandiose tributes of himself in his special areas of the palace), and right under it, sat the real Pyrrhus- drinking some wine and chilling.

He’s not the nicest, far from it, maybe approaching him wouldn’t be smart. But he seems to be in a good mood?