The System Sent Me to Breed an All-Female Amazon Tribe

Chapter 416: Sara Looks like Artemis

What a strange and interesting race the Amazons are.

However, the stereotypes are just that: stereotypes.

They do not capture the full picture or complexity of who these women are and where they come from.

"Does my face excite you so much?" Marina suddenly pointed out, her voice cutting through my reverie with dry amusement.

Ah, I may have started protruding my stupid neck towards her in examination, leaning in closer without even realizing I was doing it, my face nearly inches from hers as I studied her features with an intensity that was definitely everything but subtle.

"Ah, no, no, nothing sketchy here!" I quickly waved my hand and moved my neck back to its normal position, feeling a flush of heat spread across my cheeks. I had been caught.

Tsk. Completely and utterly caught.

"You... definitely are one beautiful woman, and I was naturally captivated. Anyone would be, looking at you. But I was also thinking about something: I noticed that Sara looks like a Zephyrian?"

"Oh? You knew about the three original Amazon clans?" Marina then showed me the very first signal of interest since I had ventured into her room uninvited.

Her eyebrows raised slightly and her posture shifted almost imperceptibly.

It was the first genuine expression of curiosity I had seen from her since I arrived, and I felt a small thrill of satisfaction at having sparked it.

"So you are not all usele..." She paused, catching herself, and I could see her mental gears turning as she rephrased her thought. "I mean, so you are capable of learning so much?"

"..."

Of course, naturally, I was speechless.

I had been so proud of myself for getting her attention, and making her show interest in something I had said.

But then she had to go and say that. The implications were clear.

[W... Wait... does Marina think I am dumb...?] [Ben]

I mean, she was very shocked that I was "capable of learning," and that I had actually paid attention to the history and culture of the Amazons, that she had almost slipped and indirectly called me useless.

Damnit!

"Ah, I must explain that," Marina went back to professional mode, her expression smoothing over into its usual composed neutrality. "It is not a precedent that an Amazon must look like their clan folk. Many things play a role into why a Clan Amazon would end up looking like the stereotype. Genetics, environment, intermarriage with other clans, the simple randomness of inheritance. And simply because they do not look like it does not mean they do not have pure blood. Appearance is not always a reliable indicator of ancestry, especially among people who have been mixing and mingling for as long as the Amazons have."

I nodded slowly, still healing from the emotional wound she had given me with that almost-slip about being useless.

The sting of her words lingered in my chest like a bruise, but I forced myself to push past it and focus on what she was saying.

I understood where she was coming from, at least intellectually, even if my pride was still smarting from the implication that she thought so little of my intelligence.

"Amazons have a very strong gene," Marina continued, her voice settling back into its usual calm and explanatory tone, as if she were delivering a lecture to a student who needed things spelled out clearly. "So basically everyone they receive a seed from—especially normal humans—it would most definitely have more of the Amazonian print. They would almost always give birth to an Amazon.

"The Amazonian genetics are dominant, overpowering, almost impossible to dilute. That is why we are almost always brown-skinned and long-lived, regardless of who our fathers or other ancestors might have been. The traits of our people persist, generation after generation, because they are simply unnaturally strong.

"But there is something different about Sara in particular," she continued, her voice dropping slightly, as if she were sharing a secret that was not meant to be spoken aloud. "I have heard my mother talk about it with Queen Irina, when she came to visit about 1,500 years ago. They were having one of their private conversations, the kind that the rest of us were not supposed to overhear, but I was younger and curious, so I listened from behind a door.

"She and Queen Irina agreed that ’Sara looked like Artemis.’ And while Sara was growing up, Lotus also mentioned the same thing, saying Sara looked a lot like Artemis. It was not just a passing comment; it was something that multiple people, over multiple centuries, had observed independently.

"And according to some scribes and primordial documents that barely exists," Marina continued, her voice growing even more serious, "Zephyr, our progenitor, was basically a carbon copy of his mother, Artemis. So much so, they said, Zephyr would say he was the goddess himself, and most people believed it without question. The resemblance was that uncanny."

"...So... Sara does NOT look like a Zephyrian," I said to Marina. The pieces were falling into place in my mind, clicking together like a puzzle. "She just is one of those ultra rare Amazons who share traits with goddess Artemis herself. She inherited something from that ancient bloodline, something that skipped generations and manifested in her, right?"

"!?" And Marina flinched from shock again, her composure cracking for just a moment.

Her eyes widened, and I could see genuine surprise flash across her features before she regained control.

"Im... Impressive... I had steeled myself to explain it in the most layman way before you grasped the meaning. And yet you understood it instantly. I am impressed, indeed."

Again, this person thinks I am that stupid?!

No, this is serious! I cannot let this continue.

I cannot let her walk around thinking I am some kind of dullard who needs everything spoon-fed to him.

I have to fix my reputation here and now.

"But, Sir Benjamin," Marina finally took a sip out of the now cold tea, her lips pressing against the rim of the cup with practiced elegance.

The tea had been sitting untouched for so long that it must have definitely gone cold, but she did not seem to mind.

She drank it as if it were perfectly warm, her expression betraying nothing.

"Please, just call me Benjamin," I awkwardly requested, feeling embarrassment and hopefulness. "The ’Sir’ makes me feel like I am being addressed by a subordinate, and that is not how I want us to relate to each other. I would rather we be on more equal footing."

Marina looked at me, as usual no joy was in those dark eyes.

They were flat, unreadable, like pools of shadow that reflected nothing back.

She held my gaze for a long moment, and I could feel myself shrinking under the intensity of her stare.

Then she said again, her voice cool and deliberate: "Sir Benjamin... is this truly the reason you came to see me? All this talk of my mother and the clans, or the genetic echoes... is that truly what brought you to my chamber?"