Heading towards the nearby town, Lefkandi was their destination, a town between Chalcis and Eretria. They planned for a two days trip. With about 1800 staters, 1500 from Agave and Pryne, another 300 staters collected from the villagers, they bought grains, seeds, bronze, two cattles and a donkey. The men placed carts on the animals and loaded it with grains and supplies. Hephastos ticked the item list which was written on a piece of wood block with charcoal, making sure every drachma was properly spent.

Arete walked Aethon in the town’s market with a cloak covering her head. Blonde hair was not a common sight in the region. She must keep herself anonymous to avoid being recognised by any bounty hunters or assassins who might go after her. As they walked past the merchants, Aethon started to show anxiety. She saw a unique large and hairy black horse. She had heard about the Friesians from the north west. That was her first time seeing a horse one head taller than Aethon. There were other horses beside it that looked like they belonged to a group of travellers.

Bang!!!

“Ha ha ha ha ha…” A group of half drunken men came out from the public dining.

“Please, my lords, you must pay for all the food and wines!” an old man tried to hold one of the drunkards.

“Gah! How dare you ask us to pay! Do you know who we are?” The man kicked the old man away. A large man wearing a fur cape walked out from the same public dining house. He fiercely stared at the old man, and dropped two pieces of gold staters to him.

For the food and wine of over 10 men in a public dining, 2 pieces of staters was way too little to cover it. But the old man was too afraid to complain about it. Arete was tempted to get involved, but Hephastos tapped her shoulder to remind her position. It was not wise to get into trouble. Those men jumped onto their horses, the large Friesians belonged to their leader. The horses galloped across Hephastos’s men. The giant horse made the surrounding area lightly shaken and the slipstream nearly blew Arete’s cloak away. She grabbed her cloak and holding Hephastos’s arms tight to avoid the pressure.

“Are you alright, Lady Arete?” Hephastos asked.

“We need to get back to our settlement as soon as possible. I sense danger!” Arete knew that if those men were heading towards Eretria, they might pass by the Kataratos. Knowing their problematic behaviour, they might wreck havoc in the village.

They left the Lefkandi town with their goods and headed toward the Lelas river. The journey back to the Kataratos took about a half day journey against the stream. They brought the animals to move across the river to the other side. The river was not shallow, but there was a flimsy wooden bridge. They move rather slowly with all the heavy supplies pulled by a limited number of carts. While they were on their way, Arete was making a list of tools. Hephastos saw the list on the wooded plate, and he was confused.

“Spears and arrowheads? Why do we need that? The bronze we bought might not be enough for weapons.” He asked.

“The settlement is just next to a river. The location is great, but it might attract some troublemakers. It is best to forge some weapons for self defense.” Arete replied.

Hephastos took a big sigh, and said:

“I’m afraid we won’t be able to fight. Even if we have some good weapons. Our villagers mostly are commoners and we simply will choose to submit ourselves towards the oppressor.”

“Why? It’s not wise to tolerate evil.” Arete asked.

“If we don’t submit to them, a greater evil will befall us." answered Hephastos.

Arete smirked and replied:

“Justice is the only necessary evil that a human should endure. We all will suffer from one another's injustices. You already knew it when you tried to help Pryne. Isn’t it true?”

“Or you regretted your action?”

“No!” Hephastos answered immediately with a sure tone.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that. No wonder the villagers voted you to be their chief.”

Arete removed the bags of seeds which was carried on the back of Aethon.

“Hey, Xan, Sol, we will move on first! See you all at our camp!” Arete called out to the villagers who followed them on their journey and she threw the bags of seeds to them. She then jumped onto Aethon, and gave Hephastos a hand.

“Let’s go!”

Hephastos grabbed her hand and hoisted himself onto the horse, sitting right behind her. Aethon pranced and galloped forward in speed, hanging its course.

“Where are we rushing to?” Hephastos asked when Arete guided Aethon to move back to the other side of the river.

“To do some necessary evil!” she answered.

“What?!”

After a few minutes of riding, they saw the group of Friesian men. Arete focused on their leader in fur cape. Their horses might be large in size but Aethon ran faster than them. Hephastos was anxious when he saw those men.

“Are you out of your mind? There are over ten strong men! And I can’t fight!”

“They can’t fight either!” she replied with confidence.

Hephastos tried to hold his cloak tight but the strong stream blew his hood down, revealing his scarred face and black hair. The Frieshian leader saw him when they got close, and Arete removed her cloak.

“A blonde lady running away with a scarred servant in dark hair on a beige Thesalian!” The leader stared at them in surprise.

“Arete of Syracuse!” they recognised her, and they raised their swords.

The men slashed their sword towards Hephastos, but Arete pulled him to the front and handed him the reins. She slid to the side of Aethon, and used her spear to knock the men down from their horses.

They soon realized that their sword was too short to reach her and she was in total advantage over them with a spear. The Frieshian leader removed his fur cape and used it to smack Aethon.

“Go down, now!” Arete shouted and pushed Hephastos down to the ground, then she slid to the other side of Aethon, dodging another blow that might have hit both of them. She let go of her grip and landed on the ground. Sensing danger and out of her presumption, the men did not aim at her. They surrounded Hephastos.

“I have heard about you. The one who painted the jungle with Pylosean’s blood. The one who took down the great Barbarian Barabbas. What is your name? They simply call you the servant. It doesn’t matter, soon people will only talk about my name, Harald the Warhammer!”

He dropped his fur cape, revealing his muscular large physique. His left forearm was missing, but a large hammer fitted to his elbow, becoming part of his body.

To be continued…