Lucian hefted a heavy saddlebag, his muscles straining under the weight. "Are you sure we need all this?" he grunted, securing it to his horse's flank.

Drakon, busy checking the straps on his own mount, nodded without looking up. "Better to have it and not need it than the other way around. We don't know what we'll face out there."

Nearby, Ianthe bustled about, her face a mask of worry as she packed additional provisions. "I've added some dried fruit and cheese," she said, handing a cloth-wrapped bundle to Lucian. "It'll keep for a while."

Lucian took the package, a lump forming in his throat. "Thanks, Mother. You didn't have to-"

"Of course I did," she cut him off. "It's what mothers do."

Lexi appeared from the house, carrying a small pouch. "I made this for you," she said, offering it to her brother. "It's lavender. To help you sleep when you're far from home."

He took the pouch, tucking it into his tunic. "I'll keep it close."

"Be back soon."

"Will do. You take care of mother."

"I will," Lexi said, glancing at Drakon. "Hey, old man."

"Yes, Harpy?"

"You take good care of my brother, and stay out of trouble."

"When did I get him into trouble?"

"Like all the time."

As they continued loading the horses, Drakon approached Lucian with a serious expression. "Remember, boy, once we leave this farm, we're not just Drakon and Lucian anymore. We're agents of Sparta. Everything we do, every word we speak, could have consequences far beyond ourselves. Understand?"

He nodded. "I understand. I won't let you down."

"See that you don't. You've got good instincts. Trust them."

With the horses loaded, there was nothing left to do but say goodbye. Lucian turned to his family.

Ianthe pulled him into a fierce embrace. "You come back to me, you hear?" she whispered. "Both of you."

"We will, Mother," Lucian assured her, blinking back tears. "I promise. Though I can’t say about the old man."

"Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?"

Lexi was next, hugging her brother tightly. "Goodbye for now. And kick the old man in the balls if you have the chance. For me."

"Ok, you guys are getting ridiculous!" Drakon said. "What kind of requests are these? You do know I’m your elder, right?"

Lucian managed a small laugh. "I'll try my best."

As they mounted their horses, he took one last look at the farm – the fields he'd tended, the house he'd grown up in, the family he was leaving behind. It all seemed smaller somehow, as if the world had suddenly expanded beyond the boundaries of their land.

"Ready?" Drakon's voice cut through his thoughts.

Lucian nodded, gathering the reins in his hands. "Ready."

With a final wave to Ianthe and Lexi, they urged their horses forward. The sound of hoofbeats filled the air as they rode away from the farm.

As they created a small hill, Lucian glanced back one last time. He could just make out the figures of his mother and sister, still standing where they'd left them. Then the hill obscured his view, and the farm disappeared from sight.

Lucian faced forward, his jaw set with purpose. Whatever lay ahead, he was ready to face it head-on. For Sparta, for his family, and for himself.

The two rode in silence, the rhythmic clip-clop of their horses' hooves is the only sound breaking the early morning quiet. As they traveled, the familiar landscapes of farmlands gave way to new sights.

They passed through small villages, where bleary-eyed residents were just beginning their day. Women drew water from communal wells, their chatter drifting on the breeze. Men trudged to the fields, tools slung over their shoulders and children chased each other through narrow fields.

As they approached the outskirts of Sparta proper, the road became more crowded. Merchants guided heavy laden carts towards the city, their wares rattling with each bump and dip in the path. A group of young Spartan warriors jogged past in formation, their bronze armor glinting in the sunlight.

Lucian couldn't help but stare as they passed the famed Agoge training grounds. Young boys, some no older than seven, drilled under the watchful eyes of stern instructors. The clash of wooden training swords filled the air.

"Eyes forward," Drakon muttered, noticing Lucian's wandering gaze. "We've got our own mission to focus on."

They skirted the edge of the city, passing by the imposing bulk of the Spartan barracks. Soldiers moved about, their red cloaks a vibrant splash of color against the stone walls.

As they rode on, the terrain began to change. The well-trodden roads near Sparta gave way to rougher paths. They passed through olive groves, their shimmering foliage murmuring secrets to the winds as if the gods’ voice were telling them something. They also passed by rows of grapevines, where laborers carefully trimmed and nurtured the plants with attention. In the distance, the peaks of the Taygetus mountains loomed, their snow-capped tops scraping the sky.

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They encountered fewer travelers now, mostly solitary merchants or messengers on horseback. Once, they passed a group of slaves being escorted by Spartan overseers, likely being moved to a new work area.

As the day wore on, they came to a crossroads. A weathered stone marker indicated the direction to various cities - Athens, Corinth, Thebes. Drakon pulled his horse to a stop, consulting a map he pulled from his saddlebag.

"We'll rest here for a bit," he said, dismounting. "Give the horses a chance to drink."

Lucian slid off his own mount, stretching his legs. As Drakon checked their bearings, Lucian took in their surroundings. The land stretched out before them, a patchwork of fields and forests. In the distance, he could just make out the glint of sunlight on water - the Aegean Sea.

"This is it, isn't it?" he asked. "We're leaving Sparta behind."

Drakon looked up from his map. "Yes, for now. From here on out, we're in foreign lands. Best keep your wits about you."

"Where are we going anyway?"

"Selybria."

"Selybria? Where’s that?"

"It’s northwest of here, on the coast," Drakon kept his eyes on the map, his finger tracing its lines. With a sudden motion, he jabbed the air, as if pinpointing an invisible target. "We'll have to pass through some rough terrain before we get there, and it's not exactly friendly territory. That's why we're avoiding the main roads—too many eyes."

"Why did we wait until spring?" Lucian held the water pouch to the horse's muzzle, the animal's nostrils flaring as it caught the scent of the water, then its lips quivered before latching onto the bottle, tongue flicking out.

"Because travel would be easier in drier seasons when weather conditions were better and rivers weren't overflowing. Winter travel, especially through mountains, would be treacherous."

"Huh," Lucian secured the water pouch onto the saddlebag and moved behind Drakon, peering over his shoulder at the map. "I never knew that you’re good at map reading and scouting."

"I did this a lot back in the days. They always pick me for scouting."

"Really?"

He nodded. "The reason behind is because I always ended up being the only survivor left."

"Wow, is scouting really that dangerous?"

Drakon's eyes flickered over him before he folded the map and tucked it into his weathered bag. The parchment mingled as he swung onto the horse. "You have no idea. Let’s get going."

Lucian rode on his horse as well and urged it forward until he fell into a step behind the old man's black stallion.

The road wound on, taking them further and further from home. With each hoofbeat, Sparta receded into the distance, becoming nothing more than a memory. They were now truly on their own, two small figures on a vast landscape, riding towards an uncertain future.

——

As darkness settled over the land, Lucian and Drakon guided their horses off the main road, seeking a suitable spot to make camp. They found a small clearing nestled between a cluster of trees, offering some protection from the wind.

"This'll do," Drakon grunted, dismounting. "Let's get set up before it gets too dark to see our own hands."

Lucian slid off his horse, his muscles protesting after the long day's ride. "What should I do first?"

Drakon was already unloading supplies from his mount. "Tend to the horses, then gather some firewood. I'll start on the shelter."

As Lucian unsaddled the horses and gave them water, Drakon busied himself with setting up a simple lean-to using a woven cloth and some sturdy branches. By the time Lucian returned with an armful of dry wood, Drakon had finished the makeshift shelter.

"Right," he said, eyeing the pile of wood. "Time you learned how to start a proper fire. It might save your life one day."

"Sure."

Drakon knelt on the ground, gesturing for Lucian to join him.

"First thing's first," he began, "you need tinder. Something that'll catch easily," he rummaged in his pack, pulling out a small bundle of dried grass and bark, "always keep some on hand. In a pinch, you can use dry leaves or even the lint from your clothes."

Lucian watched as Drakon arranged the tinder in a small pile.

"Now, for the spark," he continued, producing a piece of flint and a small iron striker, "you strike the flint with the iron, aiming the sparks at your tinder. Like this."

Drakon meshed the flint with the iron and sparks flew, but the tinder didn't catch. He tried again, this time successfully igniting the dried grass.

"Your turn," he said, handing the tools to Lucian. "Remember, it's all in the wrist."

Lucian took the flint and striker, his hands clumsy with the unfamiliar objects. His first few attempts produced no sparks at all.

"Shit," he muttered.

"Patience, boy," Drakon advised. "You're not swinging a sword. Gentle, but firm."

Lucian tried again, adjusting his grip. This time, a shower of sparks flew from the flint, but the tinder remained stubbornly unlit.

"Better," Drakon nodded. "Keep at it."

As Lucian continued his attempts, the old warrior offered occasional advice. Finally, after what felt like countless tries, a spark caught. A tiny flame flickered to life in the tinder.

"I did it!" Lucian exclaimed, a grin spreading across his face.

"Don't celebrate yet. You've got to nurture that flame. Add kindling slowly, let it grow."

Under Drakon's watchful eye, Lucian carefully fed the fire, adding small twigs and then larger sticks. Soon, a respectable blaze crackled before them, pushing back the encroaching night.

He clapped Lucian on the shoulder. "Well done, lad. You'll make a proper woodsman yet."

"I hope not."

They leaned back, their bodies absorbing the fire's warmth. The flames danced and crackled, making flickering shadows on their faces. The smoky scent of burning wood mingled with the crisp night air, while the gentle pop of embers punctuated the silence. Their eyes reflected the fire's glow, lost in the hypnotic play of light and heat.

Lucian took a few more bites of the cooked meat that his mother had prepared, but his attention was still fixed on the fire. "I’m almost out of food. Where should we get more?"

"At the forest, where else?"

"Like hunt?"

"Yes. You got a talent at spear throwing. We’re going to use it."

He looked around and shrugged. "With what spear?"

"We carried axes, didn't we? We’re going to make one out of the tree branches."

"Just like that, huh?"

"Just like that," Drakon repeated.

"Who taught you all of this survival stuff?"

"In the military of course."

"Right."

"Get some rest," Drakon said, settling himself against a tree trunk and crossing his arms. "I'll take first watch. Long day ahead tomorrow."

Lucian nodded, suddenly aware of how exhausted he was. As he crawled into the lean-to, the warmth of the fire at his back, he realized just how far from home he truly was. But with this new skill under his belt, he felt a little more prepared.

The crackling of the fire and the soft nickering of the horses soon lulled him into a deep sleep, his dreams filled with sparks and distant lands.