A beautiful morning in Syracuse, where everyone was busy preparing for a very important feast. Spearmen and soldiers gathered in the grand temple of Athena. There was no tension in preparing for a war though.
“Haste, haste! Lord Amiran is already heading to the altar! Quick!” Said the old wise man, Apollodorus, while patting away the dirt on a shield of a soldier near him.
The soldiers were all a little panicked. They rub oil on their skin, while the servants helped them to put up their bronze cuirass. Those plates were formed into a handsome shape of brawny abs, a symbol of the human bodily ideal.
“Teacher, we just won the battle against Argos! Why can’t my troops be presented as the best?” Catching after the old man, Arete questioned him.
“My Lady, why are you here? You are supposed
