The Endoxos sailed out of Piraeus early in the morning with its two passengers. The steady creaking of the ship and rhythmic splash of oars left Miltiades underwhelmed. He expected the journey to be thrilling, not the monotonous routine of rowing and waves. Petrokles asked to join the rowers to keep an eye on them, but Miltiades knew his friend did not want to stand idle on deck.

Nicias chuckled. “Your first time sailing, and no seasickness? That’s rare, you know.”

Miltiades’ stomach twisted in a knot, but he refused to give in. Still, he felt the movement more and more.

The Prince stood at the bow, staring at the horizon. Feeling restless, he attempted to engage Nicias in conversation. “What’s that beach you are taking us to?”

Nicias rested his weight against the rudder. “There’s good trees there, you know. Clean up the boat and make any needed repairs.”

Nicias' answer reassured Miltiades. “I’ve never sailed before. How do you steer this thing?”

Nicias invited Miltiades to come closer. “Come take the rudder. It’ll give you something to do. Push left to steer right and right to steer left. All you need to do is point it where you want to go, you know.”

Gripping the rudder filled Miltiades with a newfound sense of control and exhilaration. A wide grin crept across his face, impossible to suppress. He could not explain what brought him so much joy; perhaps it was the sensation that he and he alone controlled the direction of his life. With the Endoxos serving as a metaphor for himself, he directed several people, guiding and leading them.

From his seat on the railing, Nicias' eyes flicked toward Miltiades’ hands on the rudder. 'Steady,' he said calmly, as if steering through danger were second nature. He gave occasional pointers to ensure the Endoxos sailed where he wanted. Miltiades never offered to relinquish the position as the ship effortlessly cut through the water.

A strong gust of wind jerked the rudder, nearly pulling it from Miltiades' grasp. His knuckles whitened as he fought to regain control, sweat beading on his forehead. Nicias chuckled nearby. “Pay attention! Odd winds and waves can claim people. Stay sharp. There are many dangers around.”

Nicias called a tall rower, Philomen, to raise the sail. As the ship moved to wind power, the crew pulled in their oars and sagged against the hull, relieved. They reclined against the hull and massaged their arms and shoulders, enjoying the rest. Nicias showed Miltiades how to recognize different dangers: unmoving white caps, birds standing on shoals, potential sandbars, and even reefs.

“Hey, Thea!” Nicias called to a frail young man wearing a turban with a boyish charm about him. Nicias asked him to head to the prow, watch for a beach with pine trees, and keep an eye out for sandbars. Thea agreed and took his position.

Despite his slow speech, Nicias was a surprisingly engaging storyteller, weaving tales of the sea with practical advice. He corrected Miltiades several times: his stance, hold, and movements. All without moving from his position sitting on the deck.

“Pines!” Thea called, pointing to a point ahead.

Nicias stood up and told Miltiades, “Follow Thea’s finger.” He began clapping to get the attention of the crew. “To your oars!” and commanded Philomen to lower the sails.

The crew moved unenthusiastically until a sudden bang from below rocked the ship sideways. The ship shuddered violently as it scraped against a sandbar. The crew tumbled, hands reaching for something to hold as the rudder slammed into Miltiades. The crew sprang into action, shouting as they scrambled to adjust the oars and correct the ship's course. Surrounded by the crew’s curses and scowls, Miltiades stared at the murky waters, massaging his bruised ribs. The water was no longer clear blue but swirled with murky beige sand.

Nicias gave Miltiades a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Yep, lots of sandbars around these parts, you know. Watch out.” He pointed to several areas where the waves rolled in calm waters. “We hit those, and the ship will stop real quick, you know.”

Miltiades snapped back. “Why didn’t you warn me? The ship could’ve sunk.”

“You and Thea should keep your eyes open.” Nicias returned to sit on the deck as the ship glided over the waves again. The crew returned to their bench and began pulling on their oars, grumbling as they did.

“Keep your eyes open, Thea!” Nicias shouted.

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“Thea?” Miltiades asked. “Isn’t that a girl’s name?”

Nicias laughed, his hair whipping around in the brisk sea breeze. “That’s a funny story, you know.”

* * *

A few nights ago, the crew and I lounged on the deck, enjoying each other's company, you know. Drinking. Singing. Laughing. Playing Dice. Another evening of wholesome fun, you know.

When I heard a hissing sound. But not like a snake, you know. Like someone trying to whistle but doing a horrible job of it. I got up and walked on the dock. Behind a stack of crates, I see this little man wrapped in a long cloak, you know.

“Are you leaving soon? I’d like to join your crew,” he said.

“You don’t look like you can pull an oar with those thin arms.”

He then insisted that he had sharp eyes and was eager to learn the ropes of sailing. I took him on the boat when he said. “Please hide me. The Watch is after me. They’ll kill me if they catch me.”

The boy gambled away a fortune that wasn’t his. Who am I not to give a young man a chance? I got one when I was young.

Oh, but Thea, yes.

Hahaha.

No sooner did he get aboard that the watch turned up, looking all tough, you know. So Philomen stands up, pulls down Thea’s cloak around the boy’s shoulders, like a woman’s shawl, and places a broad hat on his head. “What’s your mother’s name?”

“Thea,” the boy replied.

When the guards arrived, Philomen scooped the youth into his arms and gave him an extravagant kiss. I’m not talking about peck. No. The full thing. With tongue, you know.

And the caressing, too.

You’d think poor Thea was a street girl working the ship. He didn’t fight and may have enjoyed it more than he’d ever let on. Boy got groped good. I suspected he rather enjoyed it, given how still he remained. He just let Philomen manhandle him, you know.

The guards look around for a few minutes as the two tongue-wrestle and moan. With Philomen whispering “Thea” every few moments, you know. I nearly burst out laughing but managed to keep a straight face until the guards finally left. Poor boy, no one’s asked him for his real name since… he’s Thea now.

* * *

“No one’s ever bothered to ask him his name?” Miltiades asked.

Nicias shook his head. “Nope. None of us know his real name, you know. If he’s got trouble with the law, it’s safer for everyone, you know.”

Miltiades disliked the explanation because of the implications. Was the whole ship filled with criminals and outlaws working under aliases? Were they using his quest to hide from the law? Could they turn on Petrokles and him? Better not to stir the pot and play the game. “I agree… Who’d look for a young man named Thea? I wouldn’t…”

* * *

The rowers heaved at the oars, guiding the Endoxos until it scraped onto the sandy shore. Nicias began barking orders, and others passed them down. Philomen, son of Hippias, was chosen as the spokesman and head of procurement. Having the most military experience, Neopater, the younger of the two brothers, took charge of the marines. The Endoxos had room for at least twenty more crew members, so the current skeleton crew served double duty as rower, sailor, maintenance, and marine.

Over the next two weeks, they repaired the Endoxos, scraping off barnacles and straightening the oars. Within a few days, the ship's condition improved, and though still aged, Miltiades felt reassured it wouldn't sink in the next storm. Miltiades lent a hand wherever extra labor was required: carrying supplies, malleting pegs, and passing fresh water. Working alongside the crew allowed him to bond with them.

Many were either too old for the Athenion navy or had past legal troubles—each insisting they'd been framed for embezzlement, theft, or smuggling. All credited Nicias with helping them in one way or another, joining the crew as a personal favor to him. The men thrived from their time away from the city. Their health and posture visibly improved from the daily labor.

Though Nicias didn’t join the labor, his watchful eyes caught every detail, ensuring nothing was missed. His direct and clear command style hinted at his military background. He left the shouting and barking to Philomen and Neopater. The men responded well to him. Work progressed efficiently.

* * *

One night, Miltiades approached Nicias when they were alone on the beach. “How did you pay for these repairs? You know I don't have the funds.”

“Oh, you worry too much, Miltiades. Enjoy the moment—it's not every day you get to be the prince on a ship this fine!” Nicias laughed, waving off the question as he would a fly.

Miltiades kept quiet, but his mind raced. What was Nicias’ angle? This whole thing felt too easy—there had to be more to it. “I cannot promise you we will make it rich and I don’t want the crew to think that too.”

“Listen, my mother wants me to go, and she paid a small fortune to fix up the Endoxos,” Nicias gave a low chuckle. “I wasn’t kidding when I said she wanted me to be a hero, you know. She’s been bragging to every shrew in the neighborhood, and now, they’re suddenly eager to have me marry their daughters or sisters." Nicias glanced at Miltiades. "Funny how that works, you know? They ignored me before, but now I’m prime son-in-law material.”

Miltiades knew only too well, but the other way. When Ekkos stood, he had his choice of princess and charming ladies. Now he was but another penniless noble bawdying his title around to sound important. He no longer dreamed of a queen whose smile would entrance a populace. He’d be happy finding himself a girl with a kind smile.

Unwilling to share his thoughts, he changed the subject to something that might help him in the future. “Once we liberate Ekkos, you'll be able to bring your new wife there… I’ll make sure you have your own land to settle on. Make you into an important member of the polity. Same for everyone on the crew. ”

“I’ll make a great farmer—with a plump wife and a pack of loud kids. I know wine making, you know.” Nicias laughed. “I wouldn’t be stuck doing hard labor, I’d leave that to others.”

Miltiades almost pointed out that Nicias was already doing just that, but held his tongue. His hands clenched into fists on his lap. Nicias was hiding something—he could feel it—but now wasn’t the time to call him out.