Lion Head Mesa Pólemos

Arsénio the misthofóros returned. Germanikos, he repeated to himself. It was a curious name for the man, but he was not to question such things.

The silvered wolf went on to speak of a brewing war. Curiouser still, the auburn wolf wondered what tensions had risen to cause strife in the land of the mesa. Beyond that, Arsenio wondered what their numbers looked like, should a war take place upon their lands. Germanicus was a soldier, or so he revealed to the Greek easily enough. The cut of his figure and the unbroken features was a good indicator of that.

The soldier spoke of a queen to the wolves, a kind-hearted woman who did not deserve the tides of war that licked at her heels. Arsenio smiled. He bowed his head in understanding. The woman was to be guarded and watched after at all hours. Any activity that occurred was to be relayed to the soldier.

Curious indeed, but the misthofóros was won. It was a job fit for him.

Katalavaíno, Arsenio answered with a swift and toothy grin. Who is the queen, stratiótis?