Athens nightlife was stated to be quite eventful at times, but the truth was that a lot of it was focused in certain corners of the city. The guards were dauntingly observant and strict, even going so far that any common tavern brawl would be broken up with spears and beatings. This harsh rule had come about due to the thinly spread Athenian forces in the region. Therefore the citizens were encouraged not to take their issues outside if at all possible. Those who wished to get drunk on wine to spill their troubles down their throats should bring a more abstinent friend along that could keep them in check.

Many establishments preemptively closed at the crack of dawn to avoid any complications altogether. The only people foolish enough to accept patrons throughout the late evening and night were those that could not deny the sweet allure of coin or felt a special inexplicable obligation to the citizenry.

For example there were the bathhouses. They were often referred to as a Spa, but Atticans had long since claimed the concept for themselves and build upon it. Indeed, a bathhouse was like a different world. A paradise for body and skin, but also a social melting point. Men of all trades would gather in these steaming baths to let their stress melt away and have relaxed conversations about their daily lives. It was viewed as the ultimate fashionable thing to hold meetings and business talks inside the heated tile rooms while the sweat of one’s body was mingling in the drain.

Some of these establishments even flaunted with underground gambling halls and bars (although the Archons officially did not approve of such things). One of those public businesses was the bathhouse in the upper district. It was boldly named ‘The Surly Nymph’, a jest on the owner’s wife most certainly, but the name had taken off before they knew it. As any great businessman would, he accepted the publicity and embraced the name. The influx of curious customers was worth the beatings he received from his dearly wed woman.

The owner, Pelos, was a shrewd businessman in his own regard, but he still didn’t engage in the gambling scene. Even the ‘bar’ in his bathhouse was no more than a lounge for guests that offered wine and food. Yet still, some drunkard had managed to weasel his way into the place and acted like he was entitled to treat the place as a second-rate tavern.

“Aaaaand they said: ‘Don’t show yer face evar againnnn’!” The customer droned on about his long journey without regard to the troubled servant holding the wine amphora for him. He had no choice but to listen to the man leaning over the bar. “Doya know how rude that ‘as?”

“No, sir.” He shook his head frantically.

“Issslike… I travel’d half across the damn world ta get this piece of trash to th’ Archons, but they won’t even lemme in? Artemis shall take her bow and ram it up their-!”

“Ahem.” The dry cough of a corpulent man interrupted another vulgarity. It was the owner himself, a clearly displeased Pelos. He nodded the servant to step back and manned the bar himself. “Sir, you are quite a nuisance, I believe you had enough to drink now.” He tried to pull the mug out of the drunkard’s hands, but the curly-haired man was far from lethargic. He immediately brought it to his mouth instead and downed the remaining wine.

“C’mon, I ain’t even halfway fuzzed yet!” He chuckled and slammed the amphora down. “I’m payin’ good coin for this deluge of cheap vinegar, so don’t get yer himation in a twist.”

“Urgh, you reek of booze.” Pelos clutched his nose and backed away. He was deeply offended by the suggestion that the wine he handpicked was ‘vinegar’. “Sir, this is a bathhouse, not a tavern. We only offer wine as an aperitif for our excellent pork chops. If you would like me to wake the cook to give you a serving I’d be more than happy to.” Despite his lax appearance Pelos was a veteran of his business. A man with a full belly would be less susceptible to drunkenness and more satisfied to boot.

“I’m not feelin’ hungry at all.” The man held his head in his hands and sighed. “No appetite, no love, no future…”

Pelos raised his nose and looked down upon the stubble-faced man. His downtrodden expression and posture told of deep misfortune. Just another opportunist drowning his losses in wine.

“You have my sympathy, sir, but-“

“Oh don’ gimme that.” He waved his hand at Pelos’ lip service. “You can’t even fathom how much this journey cost me… I jumped off blades countless times; escaped arrows and storms, even survived an encounter with the legendary Gorgon! Thought that would be the end o’ me, but destiny was on my side. I made it back to Athens, just to get stopped at a shitty door!” He tugged the wine out of Pelos’ hand and chugged it down.

Pelos sighed, irritated, but still the true business man, he did not lose his temper. The inane babbling of a fool did not affect him in the slightest, but if he kept making a scene the nightly customers would turn away. The lounge had already cleared out an hour ago. The servants had called him back to the bathhouse from his delicious dinner at home. Perhaps that was the true reason he was peeved right now. Then again, he had an excuse not to argue with his wife for once.

“How fantastical. This simply means destiny wasn’t on your side after all, sorry to say.” He pulled the amphora out of his hands again and leaned his head on his hand.

“Hurrrgh… you’re not much of a servant, making your patron feel worse.” The man said with a frown.

“That would be because I am not part of the staff. I happen to be the owner of this place.” Pelos grumbled.

“This is yours?” The man unsteadily moved his hand across the room.

“Yes.”

“Niiiice. Your baths are real good.” The man grinned.

“We only use the best lumber for the fires. A scholar once said that the perfect Spa is one that lets the purest water element drink the heat from the strongest fire element.” He explained proudly. Intelligent phrases from scholars always worked well on newcomers.

“That’s mighty impress’ve, owner.” The young man chuckled dryly. “Maybe I should become a manager rather than a merchant. Switchin' professions on the fly is just my style.”

“You? A merchant?” Pelos raised a brow. This rundown character had no merchant-like sway whatsoever.

“Ain’t you a little too blunt?” He squinted his eyes. “Ya don’t strike me as a big manager either. You sure look the part offa fattened piggy, though. Do ya make the pork chop from your belly?”

“E-excuse me?!”

“You must have a good wife who cooks delicious food for ya.” Suddenly his mood did a sharp turn back into the blue. “Ya know, I also’ve a woman I love.”

“Oh please.” Pelos rolled his eyes. The stereotypical woman troubles were bubbling up. Of course they did. What would a drunkard be without a woman to fret over?

“Don’t ya laugh at me! She is the beau-beautifullest woman in Athens.” He hiccupped. “And I’m gonna disappoint her again.” He pushed his head against the wooden bar.

“That much is certain.” He muttered. No respectable woman would court a man wallowing in self-pity in a bathhouse.

“I promised her I’d become someone better. Someone who her father could approve of. Now I’m just a failed peddler drinkin’ in some rundown basement.”

“My bathhouse is not rundown! And we are on the first floor.”

“I couldn’t even see her smile again… I can’t… face her.” He said with a choked up voice.

Pelos could not bear to look at this pitiful display. With a deep sigh he handed the man the wine again.

“You’re good guy, owner.” The drunkard finished the bottle in a hurry.

“Let’s just say I know what it’s like not to live up to a woman’s expectations.” Pelos sighed again.

“Your little guy’s not feelin’ well?” He asked as he put the bottle down.

“How dare you! My manhood is doing just fine!” Pelos turned red like a tomato.

“Hahahaha! Ya look virile enough.” It was clear that he was just messing with him.

“Why am I arguing with a failed merchant?” Pelos put fingers to his temples to ward off the migraine.

“I was doin’ pretty well actually.” The man sipped some more wine and looked into the amphora. “Got shipwrecked though, twice over. Survived, but left most of my possessions behind.”

“You seem to have more than enough coin to spend nonetheless.” He eyed the pile of old minted coins on the counter. This was the only reason he hadn’t thrown the man out of his establishment yet. The owls were old, but they didn’t appear to be counterfeits. A paying customer was hard to dismiss.

“A little gift from my encounter with the Gorgon.” He grinned dandily.

“Yes, yes.” Pelos ignored the blabbering and used a rag to clear the counter from the spilled wine.

“Why’s your wife disappointed in ya?” The drunk didn’t look up as he asked almost sheepishly.

“Hmph. You believe I would share such personal matters with you?”

“Don’t be so stuck up! I’m pourin’ my heart out to ya here man!” He slapped the counter and looked up with drunken indignation.

“Nobody asked you to.” He deflected.

“You can’t get it up, that’s it, eh?”

“I swear by Hermes, I shall throw you out myself.” He said with a twitching eye. “It’s my son. She thinks I am not bringing him up right.” Pelos could not stop himself from talking.

“So ya got a son. Takes more after his ol’ man, huh?” He smiled vaguely.

“What makes you say that?”

“Your wife’s clearly the one with the say in the household.” He leaned over the bar counter and picked up another amphora of wine without asking. “A man that runs to his work in the middle of night to stay away from his troubles, that’s somethin’ else. She must be a real Erinys.”

“I came here because you caused my staff trouble.” He corrected him, but felt a hint of nervousness. Was he that transparent?

“I wish I could have a son with my love. I’d raise him into a smart lad that doesn’t go on faraway journeys into dangerous lands. Gotta stay around the city and make an earnest living.”

Pelos felt a tinge of sympathy. This man was crude and self-loathing, but he seemed to have a good head on his shoulders. At least once the buzz wore off.

“Listen owner, you got everythin’ a man could want. A wife, a son, a blooming business. Ya can make it work, just gotta believe. Sure, your wife might be a dragon now, but it’s just because she loves your son more than Aphrodite loves pretty men.” He hiccupped again, underlining the failed analogy.

“Enough of my personal situation.” Pelos had to shut down any further investigation of his issues. This man seemed a bit too sharp. “If you think strong belief can set the world right, you should go back to your lover and make her your wife.”

“Wish I could. But it’s no use. The Archons won’t let me in. Facing the king of Persia is easier than gettin’ past that door.” He bit his lip and suppressed his angry shaking.

“The Archons? What do you need of them?” He raised a brow.

“Indeed, whatever would a young merchant need of the highest authorities in this great city?” A new voice echoed inside the lounge. It belonged to a youthful man clad in fine clothes and ring covered hands.

“My apologies sir, but we are closing down for the night-“ Pelos was instinctively replying to the newcomer, but then realized who he was looking at. His eyes widened and he stepped back a bit. “Typhos the scholar.” He whispered.

“You can afford to let me have a little chat with your hardheaded customer just for a moment, can you not?” Typhos moved to the bar with an impenetrable smile and sat down next to the drunkard. “I will not cause you any trouble.” He put down his hand and revealed a small shiny rock. It was pure gold.

Pelos turned wide-eyed, but then mustered the young man with a suspicious gaze. This was the moneylender that old Hegord was so interested in. To think that he would walk into Pelos’ bathhouse after all this time. The drunk merchant might have been in monetary trouble after all. This could turn out rather ugly.

“Are you the merchant Themistokles?” Typhos asked politely.

“…you got the wrong guy. Ain’t nobody with that name in this dump.” The merchant replied and downed the remainders of his wine. Pelos glared at him for that comment.

“Truly? That is unfortunate.” Typhos leaned his elbows on the counter and looked down in disappointment. “Who do I have the pleasure with then?”

“Just a failure who keeps surviving to regret his choices…” He looked away with gloom in his eyes. “Ya can call me Zosimos.”

“I understand. Surviving a misfortune can leave one’s soul empty. Unfulfilled. Death may seem like the shortest route to salvation.” The scholar raised a finger to signal that he wished to drink something as well.

Pelos went back to the storage and picked out the best wine of his stock. This was not the type of man he could sell cheap grapes to. Typhos nodded in appreciation and then filled an earthen colored cup to the brim with the red liquid. Then he pushed it tenderly towards Zosimos. The downtrodden merchant didn’t pick it up.

“But you shall know that each near encounter with Thanatos will only teach you new things.”

“Ya don’t look like a priest, but sure sound like one.” Zosimos said with much more focused eyes than his drunkenness should allow.

“Oho, I studied at a temple for far longer than I would have liked, so perhaps that is where I picked up this habit.” He took it with good humor. “I did not come here to enlighten you or anything of the sort.” He assured and then took a second cup to fill for himself. Only after he put it to his lips did Zosimos finally do the same. Both of them only took a small sip to savor the fine wine. Chugging such precious drops would be a crime.

“What’s a bigshot like you want from me?” Zosimos put the barely touched wine back down and glanced at his conversation partner from the side.

“You must know that Athens is enormous, stretching farther than the sheer eye may perceive.” Typhos said while stirring his cup. “But rumors travel faster than fires through an orchard. In the blink of an eye information travels from one end to the other. Even Hermes could not deliver a message as fast as the rumor mill of this city.”

“Heh.” He just snorted.

“Justified as your sorrow may be, your actions here have stirred some waves. A carelessly dropped word can catch the interest of an unsavory bunch. I came here before they would.” His smile was as sharp as a blade in the dark.

“What are ya tryin’ to say?” The merchant muttered under his breath.

“Your clash with the Archons did not go unnoticed. There are enemies you should not make lightly.” Typhos said calmly. “Although I confess, that is none of my business.”

“Are you here to threaten me?” Zosimos words turned sharp and the drunkenness seemed completely gone.

“Calm yourself. My business with you is of another nature.” Typhos took another sip of wine. “In your drunken stories you have mentioned quite a few fantastical details. Meeting the king of Persia, travelling across the seas on your lonesome.” He counted them on his fingers, each time a golden or silver ring reflected the light. “And escaping the clutches of the legendary Gorgon.” With that last line his expression became dangerous.

Zosimos inhaled audibly.

“You do not strike me as a liar ‘Zosimos’. Yet I have to wonder, just how much of this story was embellished?”

“Why do ya care about my tales so much?” He glanced around. He was searching for a quick exit.

“Because I am a man that puts his trust in others.” Typhos smiled brightly. “And I wish to trust that little bit of truth in your tales.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. I believe you Themistokles, the merchant who was hunted by the Persian executioners across the entire kingdom. Themistokles who traveled the ocean on his own to shake off the great western fleet and sailed straight into the cursed waters of Sarpedon in a bit of desperation. Themistokles who returned from that place with a makeshift boat, but his life intact.”

The merchant put the cup down and rose from his seat. “Sorry, that wine’s too classy for me.” He said emotionless and then walked towards the door.

“That is quite alright. We should all indulge ourselves from time to time.” Typhos said while casually slurping on his cup. He did not try to stop Themistokles, which meant…

The merchant stopped at the door. He could see the shadows of three men cross the gap.

“Please, sirs, there is no reason for antagonism inside my establishment-“ Pelos realized that things were turning ugly and raised his hands amicably. To no avail.

“Pelos, please stay out of our business talk.” Typhos silenced him with a single smile. “Now now, Themistokles, do not mind my friends. They are just a bit overprotective. I told them that we could come to an understanding without a need for violence.” He turned his head towards the tanned merchant. “You would not want to make me a liar, right?”

“Are you working for them?” The merchant put a hand into his garments to grab his dagger.

“If you are referring to the Persians, not at all. I have no use for such barbarians.” The scholar denied his accusation firmly. “As a good Athenian citizen I should even commend you on your actions. The Archons are far too stubborn to see the value of your little present.”

“You know about-?” He froze as he saw Themistokles pull out a small iron chest from his linen sack.

“You should pick your taverns more carefully. The old dockyard is famously swarming with thieves.”

“Bastard…!” He pulled out his dagger and went into a stance reminiscent of a street thug.

“Lower your weapon please, it is unseemly.” Typhos frowned slightly and then put the chest down on the bar counter. “I have not managed to crack the combination yet. It would be easy for my cruder friends to break it open with the help of a local blacksmith, but that is not as stimulating.” He tapped the chest. “Of course I have no need for a map of Persia’s military forts and trade routes. A mere scholar would not wish to start a war after all.”

Themistokles was cornered. The men at the door seemed well armed and the scholar already knew what his prized possession was truly worth. All he could do now was listen.

“You’re gonna extort me? Not much for you to gain. That’s all the coin I have left.” He nodded towards the pile of coins.

“Hahahaha!” Typhos burst out laughing. “You would suggest that I have any need to press a poor merchant for his little earnings?” He wiped a laugh tear from his eye. “I already explained that I am more interested in your high-flying tales, rather than boring politics or money.”

“I don’t get ya.” Themistokles put the dagger away and sighed. While rubbing his head in frustration he glanced around the room.

“Then let me get to the point. You met the Gorgon, did you not?”

“Huh? You are interested in that?!” Themistokles was honestly caught off guard. Of all the things the scholar could inquire about.

“Only that.” He nodded. “Not many men can claim to have escaped that island. I count myself one of those lucky few as well.”

“You went to the Gorgon’s island?” He couldn’t stop gasping.

“Fairly recently as well. We had to retreat in a rush.” He said without a hint of regret.

Themistokles hastily ordered his scrambled thoughts. He had to take some leaps of logic, but he ended up with a clearer picture. Still, this could not be a coincidence.

“You led that expedition.”

“Ah, what expedition would that be?” He asked innocently.

“You bastards abandoned Eugenia on that island.” He said with a shadow over his eyes.

Typhos expression changed. Only now was he truly convinced that the merchant had been to Sarpedon. There was no greater proof than that name.

“So it is true, she still lives.” He said in a low voice.

“You cowards left her with that monster! Used her as bait for your escape!” Rage overcame him when he saw Typhos indifferent smile.

“Sheer calumny. We had no such intentions.” He raised his hands defensively. “It just happened to work out that way.”

Themistokles spat at the scholar’s feet. But Typhos did not lose his cool to the disrespect.

“The truth is that I wish to return to that place soon.” He took a swig of his wine and exhaled deeply. “It would be a great boon to our efforts if we were more prepared. That is where you come in, brave merchant.”

“What?”

“I want you to tell me everything you know about the situation on Sarpedon. The Gorgon’s actions, her relationship with the priestess and possibly a detailed map of the island.” He finally came out with his true goal.

“What would I gain from this?” He asked to stall for time.

“I hoped you would ask!” He smirked. “I happen to be a romantic, just as you.” His words were slick as oil.

“Hades’ nose hair, don’t make me throw up.” He looked down on him with contempt.

“It’s true, though. I only wish for young love to succeed. Even the greatest heroes need assistance from the sidelines sometimes, so let me be your ally.” He tapped the chest again. “The Archons are stubborn old men, but with the right incentive, they will open their doors. They will hear you out.”

“You can’t have that kind of sway!” He didn’t believe it.

“But I do. Just ask good Pelos here.” He amicably nodded at the sweating bathhouse owner.

“He speaks the truth.” Pelos confirmed with a dry throat.

“It is quite simple, my new friend. You support our expedition to slay the monster and in return I will open the door that keeps you from your beloved Eopia. I would love to be on good terms with a future Archon too.” His words were like honey. It really seemed like this deal was unreasonably favoring Themistokles.

The merchant felt hot and cold at the same time. A sweat drop ran down the bridge of his nose. Time seemed to have stopped. An unbelievable opportunity had just made itself known. His heartbeat was breaking into new speed. Even if he could not be sure if he could trust Typhos, he had no alternatives. A slim chance was better than none at all!

“I-“ He opened his mouth, stretched forward his hand and felt a restless breath escape his mouth. The men at the door shifted their shadows, Pelos was looking at them with fear and Typhos was expectantly listening.

Her sad face flashed across his inner eye.

“I can’t help you.” He said with a defeated expression.

“Pardon?” Typhos’ face became emotionless.

“I cannot betray my savior.” Themistokles said with gritted teeth. “If it weren’t for her I wouldn’t even have made it this far. There is no point in reaching my goal if I have to step over her feelings!!” And with those words he threw his dagger at the surprised scholar and then jumped through the closed window. The wooden shutters burst apart and he rolled into the empty street below. He had spied the only escape route just in time.

“Ah, how disappointing. Blind loyalty is such a disappointment.” Typhos cold voice echoed across the street. The young scholar was looking out the window, completely unharmed! The dagger could not have missed him and yet he was without a scratch.

“Urgh!” Themistokles bent over in pain. A fist had hit his stomach with as much force as a raging bull. He bent over and was then kicked into the curb. A shadow of a shadow had passed his vision and forced him down. The cloaked figure was so ethereal that he could barely recognize their existence in the moonlight. They were holding his own dagger against his throat.

“Meet my other new friend. The famous Shade of Athens.” He leaned over the windowsill and nodded the hooded person to pull the merchant up. “They are quite impressive, hm? Cost me a fortune, but I am already feeling good about this investment.”

“Hack- graggh!” Themistokles coughed as his throat was clutched tightly. The shade put the dagger away to just hold him up. Their strength seemed superhuman. Then they jumped up and reached the window with ease. He was slammed back into the bathhouse where Pelos pulled on his balding head because of the destroyed window.

As the merchant was lying in front of Typhos' feet, the scholar squatted down and put a hand to his shoulder. His grip was soft unlike that of the Shade.

“I have trouble seeing why you would reject such a favorable deal, but I am sure we can come to an agreement eventually.” He snapped his fingers and a thickly covered man with a chest came inside. When the scarred man opened the chest he revealed a lot of bronze tools. “Owner, would you be so kind as to make good on your previous comment? Now is a good time to close the bathhouse.”

Pelos was terrified to the core and could not look Themistokles in the eye as he rushed out the door to leave.

“Now ‘Zosimos’. It is time to live up to your reputation. You will survive yet another perilous situation and regret your decisions afterwards.” Typhos smiled darkly. “All you need to do is comply and you will soon forget about this betrayal.”

“Hnggh.” Themistokles bit his lip until it was bleeding, but he could not stop looking at the shimmering tools that the torturer was wiping clean of dried blood.

“I will save Eugenia.” The scholar whispered into his ear.

Themistokles eyes widened. He looked up to search the man’s eyes for the truth.

“Whatever you may believe, it is indeed correct, the truth is that the monster must be exterminated. Only then can the priestess be saved.” He rose and then turned away. With a nod he ordered the scarred man to do his job. The bulky man tore Themistokles’ sleeves off, revealing the brand on his right arm he had received from the Persians for his deeds. “Be assured that I am a man of my word. You will give me what I need and I will put in that good word for you with the Archons in return. Let us hope that you will still be able to talk when you meet them.” His fine clothes waved through the air as he swiped them aside and left through the door.

The bulky man pressed the knife into the brand on Zosimos’ arm and roughly cut it open. Blood was drawn, but not enough to be fatal. The man was a master of his profession.

“WAIT!” Themistokles shouted.

Typhos stopped and looked back with a raised brow.

“Please… swear to me… that you won’t harm Eugenia!” He said with tear filled eyes.

“What a silly request.” Typhos chuckled. “I never had any intention to lay a finger on her.”

“Then… let me help you.” Themistokles words were steeped in regret. The torturer put his knife away and got some tools to cauterize the wound.

“I knew you would come around.” Typhos spoke with the most delighted smile.

For the sake of the future humans betrayed each other and forged new alliances eternally. Their own gain or the safety of those they valued was always at the fore of their minds. Humanity would always choose their own over all others.