Andreas, Theron, and Coridan are traveling to Corinth and thence to Delphi. Along the way they must pass Agamemnon's ancient fortress of Mycenae, now the abode of thieves.
The brooding bulk of the Mycenaean hill fort stared down on them, sizing them up like goats waiting to be sacrificed for its splendor. The weight of the cyclopean stone wall, haphazardly darkened by fire, threatened to bow his back permanently.
Andreas had never seen anything built on this scale with, of all things, giant stones. In his experience, homes were made of mud brick and wooden palisades protected villages. Even Tegea's stone walls couldn't rival what he saw before him now. How imposing must the city have been in all its glory?
He doubted Perseus had known when he forced the Cyclopes to build his ramparts to what end his kingdom would come.
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