Location: Larissa, Aeolia
Time Remaining: 1 Year
Just south of Mt. Olympus, the nation of Aeolia prospered. Its food was abundant, and sitting on the doorstep of the gods ensured they were well attended to. In Pthiotis, the southernmost province of Aeolia, the city of Larissa sat at the base of a peninsula, between the Pagasaean Gulf and the Malian Gulf. The Pagasaean Gulf harbored fishermen and merchants, and the much rougher Malian Gulf was home to the reclusive but benevolent people commonly known as the Nereids. For a time, the Aeolians and the Nereids had lived on the edge of war, the Nereids feeling that the Pagasaean fisherman were taking more than their fair share. The tension between them came to an end when the Nereid princess, Thetis, fell in love with the Aeolian prince and naval hero, Peleus.
The star-crossed lovers had endured considerable strife because of the conflict between their nations, and so Peleus had prayed to his grandfather, Zeus, to intervene. Zeus had responded by coming to Thetis with a bargain – if Thetis carried his child, Zeus would give her the means to remain on land for as long as she wished. Thetis agreed, and bore the child Achilles. Peleus was somewhat uncomfortable with the arrangement, having been excluded from the decision, but he loved Thetis, wed her, and raised Achilles as his own child. With a Nereid queen on the Aeolian throne, the two nations overcame many of their differences, developing a strong trade and military alliance. Their peoples had prospered as a result, and much of that prosperity was credited to Zeus’s intervention.
The marriage had so greatly changed the political and economic landscape of central Greece, that Peleus and Thetis hosted an annual celebration in which they renewed their vows. It was attended by royalty from all across Greece – allies and even rivals sent their princes and princesses to network with the other future rulers of Greece, negotiating trade deals, sharing knowledge, and generally promoting strong alliances between the Greek city states. Of course, given Zeus’s role in arranging their marriage, every year, the Olympians were always included in the invitations issued.
One year, they accepted the invitation.
Peleus and Thetis had been holding court in their palace in Larissa, hearing their people’s concerns, arbitrating disputes between townships, and receiving tributes when a thunderclap rattled the palace. In the blink of an eye a tall silver-skinned figure appeared before them. He was at least seven feet tall, towering over the mortals in attendance, and the ground behind him smoldered from the friction of his sudden deceleration to a hard stop. If that hadn’t been enough for Peleus to recognize the god Hermes, the iconic wings adorning his helmet, sandals, and staff would have settled it. Peleus and Thetis immediately fell from their thrones and prostrated themselves before the deity, as he shifted to a more approachable flesh-tone.
“Thetis, sweetheart, it’s been a god’s age,” Hermes said, “How you doing? You look great! Fantastic! Are you using a different moisturizer or do all Nereids have such a healthy complexion after fourteen years of motherhood?”
“Th-thank you lord Hermes,” Thetis said, “I simply use olive oil…”
“Olive oil? Really? I can do better than that – snake oil, that’s what you really need; high quality, grade A snake oil, pressed from the finest snakes you can find in Greece. I know some vendors in Lesbos that have amphoras full of the stuff. Remind me later and I can hook you up with a free sample.”
“Y-yes my lord.”
“Now come on, you two, back on your thrones – I’m the guest here after all, aren’t I?”
Peleus and Thetis returned to their seats. “Have we done something to offend Olympus, my lord?” Peleus asked.
“Gods no!” Hermes said, “If you were in trouble it’d be Ares knocking on your door. Or maybe Aphrodite if it’s that time of the month, you know what I’m saying? No? I’ll lay it out for you – she says she’s a colossal asshole for about four days out of every lunar cycle. Blames it all on Artemis, too. But really, she’s a catty bitch all the time, she just likes to give herself an excuse to pop a mortal’s head off every few weeks.”
Peleus didn’t dare show any disrespect, but the conversation at hand was admittedly making him uncomfortable, “How can we serve you then, Lord Hermes?”
“Ah you guys are great, just so great. Really, here I come flying into your throne room out of the blue, and you’re asking me what I need. Such good hosts, really. But all of us on Olympus know what a stand-up guy you are Peleus – your granddad, especially, he just goes on and on about what a great guy you are, marrying his baby mama and raising his kid. Such a great husband – and a good father too. That’s why I’m here! Zeus wants to reward your fantastic goodness! He regrets that he’s been unable to attend any of your previous celebrations, but has sent me to formally respond, as you please, and inform you that this year he’s coming, and he’s going to bring the kids, too!”
“The gods are coming to Larissa?” Thetis asked, not quite believing what she was hearing.
“Probably a bit scary, am I right? I mean a bunch of mortals trying to host a party worthy of the gods sounds like a pretty tall order – especially one that’ll last six months.”
“Six months?” Peleus asked.
“Anything worth doing is worth doing thoroughly, right? So many people have to travel so far to get here, it seems a shame not to make it worth the trip. And there’s a lot of people coming – I did the rounds and when I dropped the line that Zeus was coming, well even Priam’s planning to send some of his kids. And man, has that guy got a lot of kids! It’s like, learn to pullout Priam! But that’s neither here nor there.”
“My lord,” Peleus said, “I’m sorry, but I’m not sure our little kingdom can provide the sort of entertainment Lord Zeus will be accustomed to. I mean no offense, of course!”
“Of course! None taken! We know you’re mostly mortal – you only have so much time in the day, and so many casks in the cellar right? But don’t worry, this will be great for Aeolia. People will come to Larissa from all over for a chance to rub shoulders with your divine celebrities, and that means trade, income, dough, money. And you don’t need to worry about the planning – I’ve brought along someone to help you set the whole thing up!”
The clip clop of six hooves sounded from outside, and a goat-legged man entered the throne room, leading a small donkey burdened with a rider of godly stature.
“May I present Zeus’s son, your master of ceremonies, wine, revelry, and bad decisions, DI-O-NYS-US!”
Dionysus stumbled down from his mount, shook his head as if to clear it of some mental fog, adjusted his clothing, and strode over to stand by his brother. He curtsied dramatically.
“Did you have to ride that beast in here?” Hermes whispered.
“I couldn’t very well leave him parked outside,” Dionysus whispered back, “I don’t know what sort of neighborhood this is.”
“My brother will see to organizing the celebration, ensure that all of our family’s needs are met, and make this a celebration Greece will never forget!”
Dionysus inspected his surroundings, “Is this the largest throne room you have?” he directed his question to Thetis.
“Yes my lord,” the queen answered.
Dionysus made a face as if he were slightly pained, “Well, it’s cozy. It will serve for the more intimate gatherings of the party, and if we need more room we can knock out the eastern and western walls, open this whole thing up. Yes, that might be the way to go either way – knock out those walls and you’ll be able to see the sunrise and sunset. It will be beautiful, don’t you think, Pan?”
The satyr holding the donkey inspected the ceiling, “Seems a shame you can’t see the stars.”
“Yes,” Dionysus said, “Perhaps we should open up the roof too. Aeolia has many shipwrights, I’m sure they can fashion an awning.”
“We also have many gardens and common areas on the palace grounds, if my lord wishes to host dinners outside,” Thetis said.
“We should have a full walk through of the venue tomorrow morning,” Dionysus said, “Pan, please ensure that the servants have my breakfast order prepared.”
“Breakfast, boss?” Pan asked skeptically, “How early are you planning to get up.”
“Hm, yes,” Dionysus nodded, “make it brunch.”
Dionysus walked up to the thrones and picked up the carafe next to Thetis. He sniffed it, wrinkled his nose, swirled the carafe, and sniffed it again. Finally he upended the carafe, guzzling down the contents.
Dionysus set the carafe down and studied the aftertaste for a moment. “King Peleus,” he said, “wine has two purposes: to delight the palate, and to inebriate the mind. A good wine accomplishes one of these things, a great wine both. This wine is among the worst I’ve ever had on both counts.”
“My lord,” Thetis said, “That was salt water.”
“Oh, yes, you’re a Nereid. Of course. Well as salt water goes it was passable. Did I detect some lime in there? Anyway, this might suit your family when they visit, but the rest of us are going to need a finer vintage. Bring me the best of your cellar, and let me see what we have to work with.”
“My lord,” Peleus said, “Our wine cellar is not small, but even serving the cheapest wine we could not satisfy six months of revelry with such a large group attending.”
“Oh, bless your heart,” Dionysus said, “Don’t worry about the cost – when it comes to making things stretch, I’m a miracle worker.”
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