Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby

Chapter 239

Chapter 239: Supreme Judge Solon

Solon, son of Execestides, was a man who stood between abyss and precipice... and chose, instead of falling, to build a bridge. To know the man, one must first grasp the burden of the lineage he bore, yet ultimately transcended.

His family, the Medontidae, traced their nobility to the dawn of Athenian kingship. His father, Execestides, was a man of fading fortune but impeccable pedigree. Through him, Solon’s ancestry reached back to the last semi-mythical king of Athens, Codrus.

The legend told that when the Dorians invaded, the oracle proclaimed Athens could only be spared if its king were slain by the enemy. Codrus disguised himself as a commoner, provoked a fight, and was killed... saving his city through his own blood. Codrus was Solon’s great-grandfather.

And the lineage reached deeper still. Codrus was the son of Melanthus, himself a descendant of Triton, the sea-king, and of a princess of Athens. Thus, Solon’s bloodline flowed with mythic sacrifice and supernatural royalty: a heritage of kings and legends.

This was the inheritance Solon might have claimed. He chose, instead, to forge his own.

Solon was an archaic Athenian statesman, lawmaker, poet, and political philosopher... counted among the Seven Sages of Greece, and remembered as the man who laid the first stones on the path toward Athenian democracy. His reforms, bold yet measured, overturned most of Draco’s brutal laws and sought to arrest Athens’ descent into political, economic, and moral collapse.

debts they could never repay; their very bodies and

sole Archon in 594 BC, entrusted with extraordinary power to save the city from tearing itself apart. His genius lay not in siding with

for loans. Yet this was only the beginning. He reorganised the citizen body into four property classes... pentakosiomedimnoi, hippeis, zeugitai, and thetes, each with distinct rights and military obligations, replacing birth with wealth as the measure of political standing. He established the Council of Four Hundred (the Boule) to prepare business for the general assembly (Ekklesia), thus curbing the

all, he introduced the right of appeal to a popular court, the Heliaia, giving every citizen the power to challenge a magistrate’s verdict. He drafted laws on inheritance, land tenure, trade, funerary rites, and the export of agricultural

that he had

ten years, and then he left the city... not in disgrace, but in deliberate withdrawal. For Solon believed that if

itself. Having bound the Athenians by solemn oath to uphold his laws for ten years, he chose exile... not out of shame, but as an act of service. His absence was as necessary as his laws. He knew that if he remained, the people would look to Solon the man, not to the laws he had inscribed. Justice, he

seeking the truth of his inheritance while carrying Athens’ name into the courts of kings. His journeys became a catalogue of the ancient world’s empires, its wisdoms, and


echo of his ancestors beyond Attica’s soil. He sought out hidden clans... keepers of lore and bloodlines half divine, probing for the truth of his own heritage. In Egypt he grasped both the immensity of time

city. The king, honouring his wisdom, renamed it Soloi. Though the dialect of its people would later be mocked

Croesus, the golden king whose wealth dazzled the world. Herodotus preserved their meeting: Croesus, robed in splendor, asked Solon whether he had ever seen a man so happy as he. Solon, unmoved

affronted, dismissed the old lawgiver. But years later, when he was bound upon a pyre by the Persian conqueror Cyrus, he remembered Solon’s words. It is said he cried out, "O Solon, Solon, Solon!"—a testament to the

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