Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby

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.

the sixth century BC, Athens teetered on the edge of civil war. The city was riven by staggering inequality. The poor were crushed beneath debts they could never repay; their very bodies and their land were collateral. Across the countryside stood horoi stones... grim markers that signalled bondage, monuments to the living

crisis, Solon was elected sole Archon in 594 BC, entrusted with extraordinary power to save the city from tearing itself apart. His genius lay not in siding with rich or poor, but in raising the idea of

year as Archon was a storm of legislation. The Seisachtheia... the "shaking off of burdens", was his most dramatic act, cancelling debts and forbidding the enslavement of citizens 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

rites, and the export of agricultural goods... inscribing them on revolving wooden axles (axones) displayed openly

their ancestral privileges cut down and weighed against money. The poor seethed, furious that he had not gone further... had not seized and redistributed the estates of the rich. Solon himself likened his position to that of a wolf at bay,

laws, he stepped away from power. He bound the Athenians by oath to keep his constitution for ten years, and then he left the city... not in disgrace, but in deliberate withdrawal. For

began to uncover fragments of his ancestry, whispers of a bloodline older than Athens 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

Athens as both pilgrim and envoy, seeking the truth of his inheritance while carrying Athens’ name into the courts of kings. His journeys

a story that stirred his blood, for it was the first 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 and the fragility of civilization, how mighty kingdoms crumble into sand

the dialect of its people would later be mocked as corrupt... giving rise to the word "solecism", the city itself stood as a monument to Solon’s repute as

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 by treasure, replied, "Count no man happy until he is dead." For happiness could not

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