The war bugle was deafening as it urged those loitering among the chariots to clear the track. Time seemed to stand still for the briefest of moments as Thea watched a single droplet of wine separate itself from the rim of her chalice and land silently on the step. For half a moment, she wondered if it were a sign of blood to be spilled in the sands below. Then again, there was always blood to be shed when men challenged men. Even as she stepped forward, she noted the small spot out of the corner of her eye, before turning to see a hand extended toward her.

Ah, Commander Nike. One of the most curious members of their retinue - far more interesting, she thought, than the commanding General. Thea always had a love of the unknown, whether it be mysticism surrounding the will of the gods or simply someone she could not quite put her finger on. Rarely was Thea truly intrigued by someone, but in the most recent weeks, she found herself watching the Knight Commander out of the corner of her eye. He was gallant and quite a charming mystery. Of modest height and with striking features, Thea found her her mind pondering him, like an eye-catching decorative figurine that does not quite fit the decor of the room. Oh, she had tried, of course, to pry at the Commander with questions. They shared an interest in rare and unique horticulture, but apart from a handful of sentences and a few moments brushing past one another in the close quarters below decks, not much had passed between the two of them. Perhaps that could change, though. Anything could happen during the festival.

With a wry grin crinkling the gentle arch of khol at the corner of her eye, Thea accepted his hand. As he assisted her to her seat, she again noticed how close they were in height - Thea was certain that had it not been for the armor, she may have him by an inch or so. It only furthered perplexed her.

"Thank you, Commander Nike," she purred, letting her hand linger a moment longer in his before taking her seat. Lifting the chalice of wine to her lips, her eyes followed the armored man as he rejoined his retinue, snapping forward only as the first blast called attention to the starting line. As the second blast sounded, she glanced out the corner of her eye at her escort, leaning forward as if deciding the next move in a game of strategy. Nethis bore the same glance as she toyed with the outcomes of conversations held at court. This, she supposed, was quite similar, only with less ilde chatter and more....horses.

The third blast was followed by a deafening cheer from the crowd as a cloud of dust obscured the action for a moment. Then, one team emerged from the golden cloud, and Thea caught herself leaning forward to see the sun glint off the chariot laced with golden grapevines.

For Dionysus, she thought silently, almost smugly, lifting the wine to her lips as an 'amen' to her silent prayer.

Dust blew in his face and the roar of the crowd in his ears. Stephanos squinted through the sand and dirt kicked up by the other teams. He was aware of Achilleas behind him but not of the danger. Flicking the reins down onto the backs of his team, he spurred them on with a shot. The horses responded, picking up their pace and charging forward. He was much closer to the other racers now.

His heart beat fast in his chest. Under his feet, the chariot bounced, always one breath of misfortune away from either rolling on the curve or perhaps a wheel breaking off. It was the danger of the sport; that was why he loved it.

Alekos was on his feet. The majority of the chariots had moved to the other side of the arena and he could no longer discern what was happening down on the track. It was clear by the rampant gasping emanating from the crowd, however, that he'd missed quite the spectacle.

Whispers soon filled his vicinity, each one a version of events that differed from the next. One woman clamored that the prince had died rather tragically, impaled on the shaft of his own cart. The man beside her argued vehemently against such nonsense, claiming that it was instead the prince's cousin, done in after being dragged from his cart when his team of horses went wild. This immediately brought an interjection from another man in turn, who - rather disappointedly - remarked that it was just "some minor lord" and not a royal. All conjecture no doubt. The grapevine could not have possibly reached them so quickly from the far recesses of the hippodrome.

Still, that last accounting of events seemed close enough to what he knew of the facts that Alek took it for the truth. A pang of regret was the result.

His eyes were now frantically scanning for signs of confirmation, finding only a golden cart bearing a grapevine motif streaking into view. It was quickly followed by a flash of blue and white and a crescendo call of intertwined horror and exhilaration.

By the gods! What happened?

Vangelis was lent forward in his seat, using the impressive height of his torso to try and see around the crowds below as they made to stand. This was common in chariot races. As the racers headed for the other side of the oval track, the pillars in the centre of the rink gave you only fleeting glances of the drivers and their steeds - even less so when the view was clouded in plumes of dust and sand. So, in alternating waves the crowds would get to their feet, intent on leaning and staring as hard as they could at the opposite side of the track.

As Nikos of Condos came safely around the second corner, with the second Lord tight on his wheels, heading back to the start line to complete the first lap there was gasps and shifts in the audience on the other side of the stadium hinted at dangers but none as serious as the whispers in the audience pertained. Had there been any serious collision yet, the roar from the opposing side of the circus would have been ear-splitting. Now, it was just tense, with moments of drawing breath and others of holding it. Cheers speckled here and there as drivers made particular decisions or moves.

In another moment, the Prince Stephanos came racing around the corner - taking the turn a little too fast, and his chariot rising onto one wheel. Vangelis gritted his teeth and held his breath but the man seemed to have it under control. Why he had been taking the corner so fast Vangelis didn't-

And then the two who drove not far behind came around and Vangelis realised what Stephanos had been trying to do. His speed was his answer to gaining distance between himself and the near collision that was happening between Lord Achilleas and the driver with the spooked horses.

Cheers went up around the crowd as they watched two drivers handling themselves at impressive speeds while trying to turn a corner but Vangelis recognised that the horses controlled by the other lord had still not fallen into step and were still on the brink of bolting.

Then, in a moment that had Vangelis's head swivelling to try and catch the action on both sides, two accidents happened at once!

Those wild stallions that the inexperienced Lord couldn't seem to get a handle on finally bolted, their steps going completely out of sync, their movements tugging the reins from the grip of their driver and their sudden step change sending the cart they were leading bouncing angrily over the sand. There was an ugly sound and then suddenly the cart stopped thrashing. With the dust plumes everywhere, Vangelis couldn't quite tell but it looked as if the right-hand wheel of the Lord's cart had becomes caught on the axis of Lord Achilleas'. All eight horses were running together now, four out of control, and the other four in danger of being injured by one of them. The carts were dragged along behind, one of two wheels the other only on one and while Lord Achilleas desperately tried to keep control of his steeds, the other scrambled over the front of his cart in dismay, attempting to crash the reins that flung about in the wind.

At almost the same time, as the Lord in white and blue - Yullas, Vangelis remembered his name to be - shook out his reins and employed the whip to move his horses faster but suddenly seemed to lose control!

Vangelis didn't know if the man had hit his horses too hard and spooked them, or if his wheels had clipped a stone at the wrong angle, but suddenly his cart was swinging from left to right and back again. He was shifting at high speeds and very dangerously behind his team and before the Lord could get it under control, one of his wheels was taken under.

In a matter of moments, Lord Yullas's cart flipped entirely, the man was flung into the sand and his team of white stallions continued to race forward in fright, dragging the upside-down chariot cart behind them. The rough cargo being pulled through the sand sent up damning and blinding clouds of dust and Vangelis looked back towards both Prince Stephanos - who was approaching the prone driver on the ground and the driverless carriage at great speed, and then at the two chariots behind him who would be in even greater danger if they couldn't detach themselves before they reached the same point.

"You ladies might want to look away..." Vangelis warned the Lady Selene, her sister Olympia and the Lady Thea.

This was not going to be pleasant...

Alypius was hot, the sun beat down on him, yet to make matters worse the armour he stood in only served to cook him. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead under his helmet as he raised his hand to block out the sun. Due to no battles needing to be fought, or his services needing to be used, Alypius was placed on guard duty for these up coming events. Deep down he rolled his eyes at the notion, the lieutenant obviously did not enjoy it, yet he also knew it was the best way to make use of him. These events were filled with royal blood, and those of high class, and when everyone's attention was focused on one thing, such as the chariot races, it was far too easy for someone of ill intention to strike, like taking candy from a baby.

However it wasn't all bad of course, ever since he was placed on this job, he had got a chance to watch all of the events prior, and now, standing at the back of the huge crowds, using his impressive height to his advantaged, he watched the chariots. He knew just who was racing, and in all honesty he was rooting for his commander Achilleas. He had a bond with the man, and if anyone should show the audience the might and skill of Taengea, it should of been that man.

Yet that only served to give a strong sense of irony, as Alypius' head whipped to the race tracks as soon as he heard the gasps and breaths of the crowd. The Singing Blade's eyes widened with shock as he watched Achilleas' chariot move out of control. Then at the same time, splitting his attention in two, the lieutenant watched as another competitor was thrown out of his chariot entirely. Adrenaline ran through his veins as with one hand on his helmet, he looked over the crowd, attempting to gain a better view as carnage and destruction seemed to be near.

For all the battles and bloodshed Alypius accident like these were not fun, or remotely easy too look at, yet for some cruel reason, Alypius couldn't take his eyes away from the ensuing chaos.

The crowd roared and gasped in quick succession. He would not risk glancing up at them but he didn’t have to. He knew what they looked like; a sea of indistinct faces veiled in dust, on their feet, pale arms pumping in the air. For now he was driving nearly blind. The bend appeared and he grit his teeth, balling the reins in his fists, the veins cording out on his arms as he and his team surged around the corner.

For a heart stopping second he felt one side of his chariot lift off the ground. Impulse told him to fling his body to that side for stability but experience made him ease his weight down gently, so as not to shift the balance too quickly. All at once he heard a resounding crash. A collective cry from the crowd and a great plume of sand and dust was all the warning he had before a hazy, humanoid figure rushed into view.

There was no time to think. Stephanos jerked the reins, snapping the heads of his horses to the side but it wasn’t good enough. Rather than trample the man dead on, one of his horses clobbered him while the wheel of his chariot bounced over the man’s legs. The chariot rocked harder, vibrating as Stephanos fought for control. At his side now was the man’s upside down chariot and his horses, slowing without their driver to spur them on.

“Achilleas!” Stephanos roared even though it was unlikely his cousin would hear him intelligibly. “Watch it!” As badly as he wanted to, he did not dare to look back to check. There was too much risk of not spotting danger in front of him; exactly like what had just happened. Instead he kept his bright eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched, body tense as he rode up on Lord Nikos and another driver.