The 8th Olympic Century is nearing its end, and the Mediterranean is as peaceful as it can be. The free city-states have not engaged in all-out war with one another in decades, and at times, their relations can even be called friendly. Crops are bountiful and trade thrives. The barbarian nations of the far east and west are as they ever were, snarling beasts fighting for scraps at the foot of Olympus Mons. The life of a free citizen is a decadent existence.

Naturally, it is not enough. The climb to the peak of the divine mountain is one wrought with ruinous tribulations, yet men climb it all the same. Wealth and pleasure in outrageous quantities are all too often cast off like dead weight from a man’s back as he reaches, perilously, for the next handhold. It is a mad thing. It is utterly against the will of the Fates.

It is cultivation. And it is what separates men from beasts.

Our story begins in the city-state of Álikos on the coast of the Ionian Sea, home to the Rosy Dawn Cult of Greater Mysteries. At its heart is the vast personal estate of the Rosy Dawn’s kyrios. His name is Damon Aetos, and he is the father and head of the cult.

On this night, his honored son is throwing a party—a dazzling symposium with some of the cult’s most promising initiates in attendance. The night sky is clear and bright with starlight, a half-moon bathing the courtyards in its silver glow. Spirit wine flows freely, and laughter fills the halls of the estate. The young men of the Rosy Dawn Cult are in high spirits.

Our story begins with a slave fighting for their entertainment.