Let us go back in time. Before the current day, before the painful separation of the Gorgon and the blind woman. The days before the scholar’s expedition came to Sarpedon a second time and the dagger cut through their bond. The blind woman’s trial had not yet begun and she thought herself abandoned by her fellow human kin. In truth the expedition was already on its way to the destined battle. Only, it took a detour before arriving at those cursed shores.

The first place they set sail to was a small island kingdom in the Aegean Sea. Seriphos.

“Triremes!”

The shout rang through the observation tower at the shoreline and left the two men downstairs in confused shock.

“What’re you guffawing for this time?”

“I’m serious here! There are triremes coming towards us… three of them!” The young man (more of an older boy really) at the top of the tower leaned his head over the edge and gave them a pale-faced look.

“That can’t be right. What kinda bigshot would bring an army to Seriphos?” The old guard rubbed his dirty beard and put down his wine amphora. He climbed up the ladder with displeased grunts and pushed aside the nervous boy. “Outta my way. Let’s see what fishing boat got ya shakin’ in your sandals.” He shielded his eyes from the glaring sun and squinted to see the horizon. “Gods.” His mouth fell agape.

Downstairs the other guard was playing with some dice in his hand before being shaken out of his relaxed trance.

“TRIREMES!” The older man shouted down.

“Wha-? Have ya lost your mind as well?” He shouted up.

“They’re real dammit! Warn the king and get the men ready.” He kept looking at the horizon with forced countenance and then slapped the boy out of his stupor. “I said get word to the king.”

“But master, Zeretos is already down there, so…” He received another smack for good measure. He hastily slid down the ladder and rushed off.

“Can’t believe it. What are we gonna do? We aren’t ready to fight a hundred men!” Zeretos was walking in circles and kicked over the chairs and table in his frantic search for their bows.

“Stop that racket and come up here. I need your eyes.”

“Don’t tell me you’re seeing double old man…” He climbed up and pulled himself over the wooden boards. What he saw on the ocean was no different from the other two’s observation.

Three large and long ships. Triremes, able to hold dozens of soldiers. All headed in their direction.

“Look at the sails. D’you see somethin’ off?” His eyesight was not the best anymore, so he had to rely on his younger partner.

“That symbol’s weird. Never seen it before.” Zeretos squinted his eyes and focused as best as he could.

“That’s not Athens… nor an Ionian color.” The old man grabbed Zeretos’ shoulder and pushed him close to the edge of the tower.

“Waaah! Stop pushing me, you crazy old man!” He squealed in fear as he almost fell to his death.

“Look closer! Do they have a battle flag hissed?”

“How am I supposed to know?! I don’t know toss about naval stuff!”

“Workin’ with amateurs.” He let go of Zeretos who clung to a wooden beam with all his might. “Doesn’t look like they’re here to raid us. That’s the flag of Bisanthe.”

“What kingdom is that?”

“Ya wouldn’t rightly remember, because ya were too young. These days they call it Rhaidestos. I’ll always remember that flag. The hero king’s emblem.”

“You’re telling me some expensive ships like that are coming for our island flying the flags of an old kingdom? By Poseidon’s hooves, what’s happening?”

“If I know one thing, it’s that nothing good ever comes from the north.” He sat down on the edge and splashed the ewer’s contents over his head to sober up.

“I hope Ajax doesn’t say anything stupid.” Zeretos looked over his shoulder and towards the path to the town walls where the young man was running like a crazed hare.

“He should make himself useful already. His mother got some sick sense of humor, givin’ a timid brat such a name.”

“ENEMIES! Enemies are coming to our shores! We need to prepare for an attack!” Ajax shouted towards the guards at the gate.

“Calm down boy.” The taller of the two looked down on him and frowned.

“Triremes are coming for the shore- T-they are going to raid and pillage Seriphos!”

“Did that old man give you too much wine?” The smaller guard laughed.

“Why won’t you believe me?! They sent me to warn the palace, so please let me in!” Ajax desperation was growing stronger, so the guards realized he was not just in a drunken play.

“Who sent those alleged triremes boy?”

“I don’t know the emblem- I-it was… something with a lion?” He frantically tried to recall and stepped in circles while wildly scratching his short black hair.

“Lion? There are a couple of kingdoms who use that.”

“Pirates too.” The other guard added.

“No raiders I heard of got triremes. Not after the pirate war anyway.”

“Hey! Can you- Can you let me in already?” While they were casually discussing trivialities the enemy was approaching quickly. Ajax could not bear to wait any longer.

“Look boy, it’s not that we don’t trust you, but you’re spinning us some big yarn…” The taller guard was clearly going to turn him away.

“Ajax, what are you still doing out there?” Suddenly a sharp voice called out from atop the wall.

“Huh?” He looked up to see who called him by name.

“Not this brat again. Who let him climb the wall?!” The guards glared at the young man and angrily shook their spears.

“Let him inside you lazy scarecrows.” The young man shouted and then disappeared.

“Who does he think he us, giving us commands?” The smaller guard spat out angrily.

“You’re friends with that brat, aren’t you?” The other guard grabbed Ajax by the collar. “Are you two working together to make fools of us? Hm?” He started shaking him violently.

“N-no I-I’m s-s-serious! Please l-le-let me inside!”

“Not a chance. I’ll take you back to Zeretos so he can explain himself. Clearly those two don’t have their brood under control-“

Creaaaak.

Behind their backs the gate was slowly pushed open. It was a large and heavy wooden gate that usually required several men to push it open if the mechanism was not used. But if the opening mechanism had been used it could not have been pushed open that quickly.

“Wha-“ Before the tall guard could even exclaim his surprise he was suddenly hit by the gate as it was flung open in one strong push. He was struck in the face and fell on his ass. His companion managed to jump away in time.

In the center of the wide open passage stood the young man who had been on top of the wall just moments ago. His hands were stretched to the side from pushing the gate open all on his own.

“Perseus!” Ajax called out in relief.

“I have seen the ships from the western tower. I warned king Polydectes already, but who knows how quickly he will organize a defensive line. I want you to evacuate the families into the inner city walls.” He put a hand on the still slightly shaking boy’s shoulder.

“Who gave you the right to make that decision-?” The smaller guard rose up and rubbed his scratched up hands.

“It is the right thing to do, so it must be done.” Perseus replied seriously.

“B-but Perseus, what will you do?” Ajax asked with a bad premonition.

“I will stop them at the western shore until the king readied his men.” The young man said confidently and grabbed the spear of the downed taller guard.

“That is madness! Those ships must carry at least a hundred men if not double!”

“I never said I would kill all of them.” Perseus replied with a shrug and then sprinted off. He was quicker than even the Olympic athletes running for their kingdom’s glory.

“No skin off my teeth… let him perish on his own then.” The taller guard held his bleeding nose and grabbed the gate to pull himself back up.

“So you think he was telling the truth after all?” The other guard asked nervously.

“No idea. You better not be messing with us boy-” He turned towards where Ajax had been standing, but…

He had already rushed off towards the houses further away from the city walls. There was the fisherman’s hut and the shed as well as the other towers. Although he was scared of the invaders, knowing that Perseus was fighting for their sake gave him the courage to move as well.

On the tame sea the triremes were approached the shore. There was a small dock for fishing boats at the western shore, so they decided to anchor close to it. The sailors were folding the sails and readying the landing planks, while the mercenaries on the deck kept a lookout for any movement from the island.

Most of the crew and warriors stayed under deck near the rowing space, but they could tell that they would finally be back to stable ground soon.

“Seriphos, never heard of it.” One of the mercenaries muttered as he shielded his eyes from the sun to have a good look at the medium sized island. In the distance one could see the outskirts of the only town on the isle and otherwise there were only vegetation and grassy hills. The white sand at before them was nearly untouched other than the fishing hut and pier.

“Some backwards kingdom. Local king seems to be reclusive, doesn’t trade much. Filthy rich tho.” One of the sailors spoke up as he drew on a rope.

“Is that right? The gods must be smiling on him if he didn’t get raided yet.”

“There are rumors I tells ya. Some tales!” The vice-captain spat out black saliva and cackled.

“Like what?”

“Some child possessed by Ares, keeps killin’ strong warriors tryin’ ta get close to the king.” He dug his knife into the wooden rail and closed one eye to focus on the shore in front of them. “Bettah look out!”

“Seamen’s yarns don’t scare us.” The mercenaries laughed.

“If you would stop making a racket and instead get ready to go on land.” The shout came from there back of the ship where a certain mercenary captain was pushing up the hatch to join them on deck.

“C’mon Markos, you think we aren’t dying to finally stretch our legs?” The mercenaries welcomed their captain with a cheer.

“Get used to staying under deck, ‘cuz the route from here to the cursed island is double the distance.” He slapped his men on the backs and grinned cruelly.

The mercenaries groaned while the sailors laughed to themselves.

“We need a messenger for the king. Whoever volunteers gets a little something extra.” Markos declared.

“Me me!”

“I came first!”

“I’ll do it!”

While the mercenaries argued about who could fulfill this precious duty, one of the sailors noticed something suspicious. He tied down the rope and leaned over the edge of the ship.

“Someone’s comin’ to greet us.” He spoke up.

“The fisherman?” Markos pushed his men aside and took a look as well.

“Too young.”

“Maybe his brat.”

“A scout?”

“He’s not wearing any armor either.”

They were speculating in a relaxed fashion as the boats reached the shore and the anchors were thrown down. Whoever the boy was, they would find out soon enough.

“Alright, Baros go to the king’s palace... mansion, whateve they got here.” Markos selected one of his most trusted men and raised his hand so the others would stop moaning. “Tell ‘em exactly what our boss asked. Do you remember?”

“’course I do.” Baros replied with a hand wave and grabbed his helmet and spear. Markos forcefully tore it away from him.

“Only take your xiphos. We don’t want them to get the wrong idea.” He glared at Baros for a moment and then pushed him down the ship. “Thebians.” He said with a sardonic grin and the others laughed.

If he had been Spartan he would not have gone without a shield and spear, but the mercenary troop had a variety of former soldiers from different cities with them.

“I’ll get ya back for that Markos.” Baros grunted as he landed on the beach. Then he rubbed his hurting ankles. After a moment of recovery he looked forward and saw the boy still standing square in his path towards the town. Curious boys were not an unexpected sight at any port, but this one was giving the mercenary a weird feeling.

Baros stepped through the sand with the intention of passing the islander. He only got a few steps in before the boy stepped slightly to the left, blocking his path. The mercenary glared down on the somewhat shorter obstacle.

“Make way. I don’t have time to play with you.” He said dismissively and pressed the boy aside with his thick paw-like hand.

“I will not let you proceed beyond the beach.” The islander said with an even tone. He was not budging in the slightest despite the rough shove.

“What was that?” The rough mercenary stopped his feet and planted them firmly into the sand.

“Not a single of your kind will go beyond this beach.” He repeated patiently.

He now returned his attention to this precocious boy. Such crass overconfidence was almost to be admired, but Baros was a deeply prideful man. Exhaling like a bull from his nostrils he stepped so closely to the islander that their faces nearly met. He was taller than the boy, but for some reason it felt like they were on eye level.

“Oh really now? Our kind ain’t welcome here? You won’t let us pay a visit to your rundown town?” He cracked his knuckles.

“Baros what’s the matter? Did that guy get under your skin?” His comrades yelled down in amusement.

“He’s sayin’ none of can pass.” Baros shouted back while keeping eye contact with this human obstacle.

“Hahaha! That boy’s got some big testicles.” The crew was roaring at the growing tension.

“You gonna let him tell you what to do?”

Baros intimidation tactics had no effect on the boy. That unsettled him deeply. He was a tall and bulky mercenary and even those foolhardy young men thinking themselves the next Heracles rarely picked a fight with him. Baros was not afraid of any man, he even cherished any opportunity to throw down. This expedition to slay a legendary beast was right up his alley.

“I told you not to give them the wrong idea dammit!” Markos shouted from behind the crowd that had gathered at the ship’s rail.

“Grrr…” Baros was feeling his blood pressure rising. This pretty boy was giving him such a deeply unafraid look. It was insulting his ego. Although he heard his boss’ orders he felt an intense desire to punch this one.

“I will face your leader in combat.” The young man suddenly declared.

“Huh?” Now Baros felt all the strings in his head snap. “You’re saying I’m not worth your time bastard?!” He swung without thinking.

“Not at all.” The boy replied calmly as the fist missed him by an arm’s length. He had weaved out of the way without even changing his posture. “I simply wish to get this over with as soon as possible. I am alone, so this will be a bit difficult.” He explained matter of factly.

“Hehe… ya heard that Markos?! He’s asking for a fight!” He shouted over his shoulder as he clenched his fist.

“This is going to shit way too fast.” Markos frowned and punched the wooden rail. “I don’t care anymore, we don’t have time to play around. Just knock the kid out and get to the palace.” He ordered angrily.

“That’s all ya had to say.” Baros grinned expectantly and smashed his fists together. “Draw your weapon runt.” He grabbed the handle of his sword with bloody intent.

“I am not allowed to carry a weapon.” The boy replied.

“Typhons’ stinkin' breath, the blazes is wrong with you?”

“My master has taught me how to handle a blade and a spear, but he said I am not to use either without his permission unless my life is in danger.” His explanations only served to utterly enrage his opponent. “I am honor bound to this promise.”

“You’re fucking with me, ain’tcha? This is bringin’ my piss to a boil. I’ll beat some sense into ya. Don’t need my sword for this.” Baros threw his sword into the sand and clenched both fists.

“I am ready.” His opponent adapted a stance that was reminiscent of an Olympic wrestler. His movements seemed too refined for a real fighter.

“I’ll stuff that runny mouth of yours-!” Baros swung first, this time with full intent to break the boy’s jaw. His fist missed by much less this time. “Nimble little shi-GNPF?!“ He was cursing, but the next moment he felt a heavy hit to his side that robbed him of all air.

The boy spun around him and grabbed him from behind. His toned arms were unbelievably strong! Like iron casts had settled around Baros’ shoulders he was in a deadly clutch and as his veins bulged he tried his hardest to escape. With all his might he finally struggled free after trying to ram his elbow into the boy’s gut repeatedly.

With an angered roar he spun around and jumped his opponent, but received a left hook instead that left an audible crack in the air. He rolled over the sand and saw stars for a few moments. The blackness eventually faded and left him staring at the blue sky. When he shakingly raised himself up he saw the boy standing not far away, wiping the blood from his fist.

It was impossible. Such a lean young man could not possibly send a man of his stature flying with a punch. He had never received such a clean, yet destructive hook. No bar fight could prepare him for that. In the red veil around his eyes he could barely spare another thought and instead channeled that pain into more rage.

He grabbed the sword out of the sand and rose up. He spat out two teeth and growled.

“…” The boy was keeping eye contact, but surely stayed aware of the sword.

“RAAH!” The first stab forward was also the last. With a horrible sound Baros’ arm was broken. He could only stare at his unnaturally bent arm and then got thrown on his back yet again.

“By the gods… He rolled him out like a piece of parchment.” One of the sailors spoke up in the dazed silence.

“Enough of this, you men tie him down and then I’ll go to the palace myself.” Markos grinded his teeth as he gave orders. He had no intention to have an honorable duel with some island boy.

“You leave me no choice.” The young man picked up the sword that Baros had dropped. The mercenaries drew their weapons in response, expecting him to rush at them, but to their surprise he threw the blade!

It got lodged in the ship’s outer shell and he immediately sprinted after it. The weary mercenaries looked over the edge and saw him jump unto the sword as if it was a step on a ladder.

“What the-!” The first mercenary raised his shield, but was pulled over board. He fell into the shallow water with a loud splash.

“He’s too quick!” The men surrounded the rail where the boy had pulled himself up and were aiming their hastily grabbed spears at him.

His sharp eyes went right through them and aimed firmly at Markos. He could tell who led this pack in an instant. Markos was feeling cold sweat run down his neck. How could some peasant make him feel intimidated?

“Kill him!” He barked.

They reluctantly raised their spears and went into a formation to poke at him safely. A mistake. He grabbed one spear that had been extended slightly too far by the wood right behind the bronze tip. He pulled with incredible force and managed to drag the wielder along with it. His fist hit him straight against the nose and knocked him out mid-flight.

The others all stabbed forward, but were inhibited by the body of their comrade. The boy used that gap to jump on one of the spears. His weight pushed the weapon down and he kicked off, tackling down the wielder. As he flipped up he kicked two more men away. He spun around, stolen shield in hand and blocked incoming stabs.

“Don’t let him make a fool of you! Coordinate your attacks!” Markos was getting nervous as he saw his men outmaneuvered despite numerical superiority.

The boy was agile, no doubt, but his incredible strength was what gave him the ability to outdo all his opponents. The fact that he was not using any of the fallen weapons to retaliate, but only to defend was making a mockery of these experienced and strong fighters.

Yet his boldness was not entirely unchallenged.

A couple of spear swings actually grazed him and occasionally he would receive a punch that he could not weave away from. For each of these blows, he knocked over three more men however.

As expected, he made his way jumping, tossing and tackling, closer and closer to Markos. The mercenary leader pulled his sword and joined the fray.

“Leave the island.” He demanded as he swung his shield to deflect several blades.

“Are you a god?” Markos growled and kicked him against the back of his knees, making him struggle for a second.

“…” The boy rolled to the side and barely escaped the sword penetrating the wet wood of the deck.

“Didn’t think so!” Markos laughed and kicked the shield out of his opponent’s hand. “Only gods and our contractor can tell us what to do. They don’t call out often.” He was turning his inexplicable fear into raw courage and dominated his opponent. That was how a leader should fight.

Seeing how he was surrounded and unexpectedly pushed back by the zealous sword swings, the boy actually retreated and jumped over the net that the sailors had reeled in. They were swinging their fists in weak resistance, but they could not even hit him.

When they tried to see if he had jumped into the sea they realized where he had actually ended up. On the adjacent triremes that had just anchored. The surprised sailors on the other ship were pushed aside and shouted in irritation.

“Where is he going?” Markos wiped some sweaty hair strands from his face and glared after the boy. He was running right into more mercenaries if he kept going. If he wanted to escape he would have been better off at the beach.

That is if he truly wanted to escape.

“Titans take him – he’s going after the boss!” He angrily pulled up two of his injured men and barked them into action. They rushed to the edge of the ship and jumped over to the next one.

The boy had listened to Markos words and realized they had a client that called the shots. If he managed to take him hostage then they would be in real trouble.

“What’s the meanin’ of this?” The captain was coming up from under deck where he had talked to the rowers.

“Pelagios you dumbass, stop him!” Markos shouted as he ran towards him.

The captain was clearly confused, but managed to react. He grabbed the runaway intruder by the shoulder… and was promptly swung into the ship’s mast. His shaken expression was almost comical.

“Got ya!” The first mate was a lot more aggressive and hit the boy with a wooden pole he had broken off somewhere. The intruder blocked it with both his arms and the wood shattered over him. Splinters rained everywhere. The impact had been so hard however that the floor boards gave way. They had been of much worse quality than the rest of the ship.

He fell into the lower level and rolled out of the way of the falling boards. Around him where several shocked slaves who were just about ready to leave the oars.

“Get him!” The first mate yowled down as he pulled the splinters from his fingers.

The slaves were nothing if not obedient and piled onto the boy quickly. He managed to squirm out by pulling on a rope and then kicked them in the face repeatedly to loosen their grip. He was flung away by their lost grip and hit a wall. From there he slid to the side to avoid a spear. It was stabbed right next to his ear and left a good gash in the wooden bow.

The mercenaries had caught up and stepped over the fallen slaves. Markos was getting more and more confident as they kept chasing him.

The intruder grabbed a crate from the corner and threw it at them with full force. It grazed one of them and nearly made him flip over.

As he retreated he was suddenly met with a strange little room that was covered in lots of dark linen. The mercenaries were on his heels, but they slowed down when seeing where he was headed.

“Stop! You’ve given us enough trouble runt, this is as far as you go. Beyond there is somethin’ you don’t want to rouse.” Markos warned.

But that warning fell on deaf ears. If it slowed them down, then it must have been beneficial to him. That’s what the boy probably thought. He pushed through the linen and knocked the door open with his shoulder. The lock simply shattered.

“He’s dead.” The mercenaries were far too afraid to enter the dark room.

“Right… I’ll tell the boss, so he can get the corpse out of there.” Markos sheathed his sword with a bad premonition.

Inside the black room everything was still. Perseus had stumbled inside to seek an escape route, but found himself disoriented. The only light inside came from the tiniest gap he had created by breaking the door open. Even that light seemed almost dampened by thick darkness.

The air was unnatural. Sick. As if his mind was resonating with something, he could feel a cold pulsating shower down his back. He ducked at the last second before a dagger even blacker than the shadows itself could behead him. He could not see or hear his attacker. Even sensing the motion itself was impossible. Whoever was in here could not have been... human.

The shade moved.

“!” Perseus jumped against the wall, he could not see anything. The tiny drops of light from the slit had disappeared as the linen fluttered into place. Utter darkness, more suffocating than Erebos himself, far more engulfing than Nyx.

Swing

He dodged with all his might and managed to avoid getting his neck severed. The only way for him to react at all was to predict when he gave the best opening. The first attack had taught him that the attacker was going for his neck, so he assumed this killer would try again. But after miraculously surviving twice, it might well have changed its tactics.

No matter how, he needed to get out of this cursed place.

“HERE I AM!” He suddenly shouted. With a punch against the wall he left a deep crack. Hopefully that action would have startled the monster long enough for him to make his escape.

To his surprise the shadows seemed to retreat… physically. Something was moving at the corner of his perception. Like a splitting lightning bolt thrown by Zeus, the room was torn apart by something that should not have been here.

Light.

The crack in the ship’s wall had created the smallest gap. Sunlight streamed through it like a righteous fire and consumed the cowardly shadows.

“You do not like the sun?” Perseus concluded quickly.

Like the hissing of a cat something swished at him from the unprotected left. He widened his eyes as the dagger stopped right before his iris.

At the last second he had torn the crack wider and created a clear separating line between them. If he had been even a heartbeat slower he might have been dead where he stood. His heart pounded something fierce, but he felt more at ease with the blinding light at his side.

“I do not know what you are… but I will leave you alone now.” He said slowly, almost like calming a wild animal. He carefully stepped towards the left side of the room and stuck to the splitting light as long as he could. Then he rammed himself against the other door with all his might and fell through. He could sense the air being cut behind him… his right sandal fell off his foot. Even in that one moment the creature had almost managed to sever his leg.

As terrifying as that was, he was back in the well-lit area below deck where the oars protruded outwards. There were fewer slaves here. They must have already started to gather for landing at the beach.

He would not allow these raiders to lay a hand on Seriphos.

“What do you mean you heard a weird sound?” Markos asked impatiently. He was just about to go to the third triremes to welcome the scholar when the sailors came to him with some news.

“It was like someone’s breakin’ an oar…”

“The door to the… thing’s room was broken.”

“Impossible. You’re telling me that boy managed to escape the shade?” He went pale and turned around. He noticed hands at the edge of the rail. Someone was climbing alongside the side undetected. “Poseidon knows this can’t be natural.” He unsheathed his sword and cut off the fingers!

“Gyaaah!” An older voice screeched and then a loud splash signaled the fallen intruder’s watery demise. Except that voice did not belong to the boy…

“That was Gerneos! One of the rowers.” The sailors cried out in shock.

Markos looked overboard and noticed that the rower had been tied to the side of the ship with a rope. He was paddling in the blue waters as if he was drowning… probably because he was. The sailors jumped down to save him, but Markos could not care less, he was hastily moving towards the back where the captain’s cabin was located.

“Guuah!” One of the mercenary guards fell to his knees and then lost consciousness after being hit by an oar.

“You dishonorable bastaaaard!” The mercenaries rushed at the intruder and roared in frustration. He was making a mockery of them.

The boy had grabbed a spear and broke it in two over his knees. He used both halves to block incoming swings. With the spear tip pointed away from them it seemed like he avoided using it correctly. His arrogance knew no bounds.

Markos slashed at him so heavily that the spear half was cut entwine once again. To congratulate his achievement, the boy threw the remains at his face and then swiped his feet. Markos fell over, but the other mercenaries were covering him and forced the intruder to dodge around.

He was slowly backed to the edge of the ship, but there he was greeted by several dozen more unhappy looking men with weapons. They were going to take him down in a pincer formation.

His eyes met with the mercenary leader’s. Why did he still not despair? It could only have been the intoxication of Ares. In battle sometimes men forgot themselves or the danger they were surrounded with. Be that as it may, Markos was going to enjoy slicing this pig open.

“Any last words?” He said at the same moment he swung his blade. He did not care to actually give him any peace.

Tap tap tap.

The sound of measured steps across wooden boards. It was coming from below deck and seemed to move upwards some stairs. That creaking was unmistakable. It barely reached Markos’ perception, but the boy immediately listened up and then squinted determinedly. He avoided the sword by a hair’s breadth and then wrapped his arms around Markos’ sword arm. He twisted him around and rammed him into two of his men. Then he dashed away and kicked aside a barrel that was filled with fish.

The mercenaries slowed down a little to step through the piles of slippery dead fish and gave him the one opening he needed. With a quick slide across the wet floor he hit a sailor with blunt force and then grabbed his sword.

The wooden hatch opened between him and the mercenaries and he didn’t hesitate.

The sword was swung with full force straight at the newcomer’s throat. If their leader died here and now that would end the entire operation and they would be thrown into chaos. Markos held his hurting arm and shouted. The sailors and mercenaries were closing in on the attacker as if in slow motion.

The well-dressed pale skinned young man stepped out of the darker lower deck with a smile.

The blade reached his neck...

And then everything stopped in place. The blade was left hanging right before the scholar’s throat. A dozen spears were all aimed at the boy’s neck in return, keeping him in place. If either party moved, there would be blood everywhere. It was impossible to kill either one without leaving the other vulnerable to death as well.

In this tense picture of deadly foes, the scholar took a long and interested look at his attacker and assessed the situation.

“Oh my. I must have overslept a little. I missed all of the introductions.” He said happily as he softly pushed the sword away from his throat. “My name is Typhos. Typhos of Athens.” He gave him an exaggerated nod of the head. “Who might you be?”

“Don’t worry milord, we got him cornered now. Kill him!” Markos had finally made it to the crowd and hid his hurt arm behind his back.

“…” The islander dropped his sword. He seemed to accept that he had lost.

“There is no need for that captain.” Typhos waved him off almost casually and nodded the warriors to lower their spears. They seemed uneasy, but obeyed. “Am I seeing this correctly, you have been chasing around a single man with your entire troop?”

“Y-yes, sir, but he was quite fast…” The shame on the captain’s face was immeasurable.

“Strong as well if your battered appearance is any indication.” He had easily picked up on it already. “I apologize for the rudeness of my business partners. It may seem unconvincing coming from their contractor, but we harbor no ire towards your people. This is merely a short stop on our true quest.”

“…” The boy had been fixating him seriously from the moment Typhos had showed his face. But he did not seem very talkative.

“If we are to come to a peaceful conclusion I believe proper hospitality will be best. I already gave you my name, will you refuse to state yours?” His unfaltering smile was not giving away his true feelings.

“Perseus.”

“Perseus of Seriphos?”

“Perseus of… nowhere.” The young man replied with a hint of melancholy.

“We all have a place in this uncertain world, my friend. Sometimes we just need to find it again.” With shockingly little hesitation he patted Perseus, the man who had just almost cut out his throat, on the shoulder. His smile was one of encouragement.

“You are not raiders.”

“Raiders? By Athena’s Aegis, that is the last thing we aim to be.” Typhos for the first time showed genuine surprise on his young face.

“I erred. Please forgive me for harming your men.” Perseus lowered his head in apology.

“A couple of bruises will heal in no time.” Typhos chuckled.

“He broke my arm!” One of the mercenaries shouted from the back.

“Gerneos nearly drowned.” The sailors said as they pulled up their bleeding comrade.

“He knocked out half our rowers.”

The complaints kept piling on from the crowd around them. Perseus kept a mask like face of guilt.

“Let us go meet the king.” Typhos said with a set smile and patted him on the back, simply ignoring the complaints.

“I don’t like this one bit.” Markos seethed behind his hand and glared after them.

On their way to the city walls they were only moving in a small group. The crew stayed behind and prepared the camp, while most of mercenaries had to stay behind to not seem any more like raiders and give them the wrong idea.

On the beaten path they met nobody. The fisherman’s hut was empty as the owner was currently at sea to get a big haul, while the tower of the lookouts was evacuated. It seemed that they had reacted quite fast to the incoming threat.

“We should have brought more men.” Markos complained quietly in the back as he rubbed his bruised arm. It was turning blue. He and his three closest comrades where trotting behind their master and Perseus like dogs that had been kicked too many times. They were unarmed as well, which did not improve their moods.

“Will you lead us to your king?” Typhos asked the young man at his side. They were nearly the same height, but he was still a bit older. Their personalities however could not have been further apart.

“The king only talks to whomever he likes. I warned him about your arrival, but I am not sure he heeded my words.” Perseus replied thoughtfully. He seemed to be on his guard.

“Then we will surely be stopped at the gates. I should have brought a present.” Typhos replied jovially.

“I am sorry…”

“You need not apologize. We came here unannounced after all.” The scholar played with one of his many rings and stepped through the dry dusty sand with a playful rhythm.

When they reached the gate they were greeted by… nobody. The guards were not in place and the gates were closed. As expected, they were barred entry.

“They left it unguarded?” Perseus muttered to himself and then knocked at the gate. “Hey! Stop hiding!”

“Y-y-you’ll never take our city. Seriphos has powerful allies!” The frail shouts from the wall were truly awe inspiring.

“It’s me, Perseus. I have brought the guests that want to have an audience with the king.”

“WHAT? You fraternized with our enemies?! I knew you were trouble from the day Dyctis fished you out of the-“

“Shhh, we aren’t supposed to talk about that and now’s not the time. He brought them right to our doorstep.”

“I can hear you! Now open this gate already or I will scale the wall and do it myself.” The young man seemed impatient and ready to make good on his threats.

“Gods have mercy.” The guards resigned to their fate and activated the mechanism that opened the gate ever so slowly.

“Perseus… is that you?” A timid voice came from the gap. Another young man slipped out and greeted his friend with a mix of stress and relief.

“Ajax, you evacuated everyone. I am proud of you.” He grabbed the jittering boy by the arm and pulled him over for a respectful embrace.

“B-but the enemies are he-here.” Ajax seemed to be close to tears as he saw the gruff mercenaries show their teeth.

“It was a misunderstanding. They are travelers on their way to some other island. They came here to…” He stopped his explanation as he realized that he did not know their purpose. His eyes wandered to Typhos for help.

“We got lost at sea at an inopportune time and need to restock. We have plenty of coin, so we would love to trade.” Typhos said in his best business tone.

“You heard him.” Perseus looked slightly bothered by that explanation, but then waved them inside. The guards were eyeing them suspiciously, but were way too cowardly to object.

“I finally made it.” A deep and charismatic voice stopped them all in their tracks in the city’s main street. A tall man with a fisherman’s tan and flowing hair stepped in their path and showed his dignified face.

“Master.“ Perseus seemed to brace for something.

“Perseus.” The man approached him and put a hand to his head. “You left without a word and went off to fight by yourself. Have my teachings not reached your heart?”

“I apologize master. It seemed there was no time.”

“Your hotheadedness will be your downfall. At least it will be mine, if I have to explain this to your mother.” He sighed. Despite his clear disappointment, there was a certain affection in his tone. They truly shared the aura of master and student. “I apologize for this one’s recklessness. He is still young.” He turned towards the guests.

“We have sustained no…”

“Ahem.”

“…few damages, so it is all well with us.” Typhos graciously forgave the collateral he had not suffered.

“My name is Dyctis. I am a simple fisherman, but I also taught Perseus how to fight. I will guide you to the king if you wish.” He offered his services.

“I will gladly accept your kind offer.” Typhos smiled and followed the tall man.

“I thought you were out fishing.” Perseus questioned his master.

“I also saw the warships at the horizon. I returned before you left for the beach. But I noticed that you left the spear in your room.”

“You said I shall never use a weapon unless you permit it.”

“Yet you run off without waiting for my permission.” He sighed. Ajax laughed meekly behind them.

Typhos watched their exchange intently, his face unreadable.

“I am certain you will tell us in front of the king, but I am deeply curious.” Dyctis spoke up and rubbed his short beard. “Where is it you wish to sail with three triremes? Reinforcements for some faraway conquest?”

“It is a family matter.” Typhos said with a hint of sharpness in his soft features.

His eyes stayed on the unsuspecting student at Dyctis side.

In the past the hidden machinations are set in motion. A strand that was long severed would slowly weave into its fated string.