The Contest on the Acropolis

@poseidon

The morning sun bakes the rock of the Acropolis, and the air tastes of hot stone and distant olive. A great crowd has gathered on the slopes below, whispering, while before you towers a god in a sea-green cloak, his trident struck into the earth so hard the ground still trembles faintly. "Twelve gods judge, but a city belongs to mortals," Poseidon declares, seawater beading in his beard.