The sun had barely risen when Lucian and Drakon broke camp. They walked in companionable silence, making their way back to the main road.

"Wow, that’s some good food that we had yesterday. I’m still full."

"Yeah, well don't get used to it," Drakon said, his eyes scanning the horizon with the vigilance of a hawk. "Out here, a full belly's a luxury we won't often have."

"You mean you’re always hungry when you where in the Spartan army?"

"Hungry and horny."

"Yuck," Lucian's face contorted, his cheeks puffing out as he clamped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide with revulsion. "I think I’m going to throw up."

As they neared the edge of the forest, Drakon suddenly stiffened. His hand shot out, grabbing Lucian's arm.

"Wait," he hissed, pulling the boy off the path. "You hear that?"

Lucian strained his ears, picking up the faint sound of metal clanking and voices in the distance. Before he could respond, Drakon yanked him behind a thick cluster of trees together with their horses.

"Stay low and quiet," he whispered, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

Lucian ran his fingers through the horses' sleek manes, feeling the warmth of their bodies and the rhythmic rise and fall of their breaths before he glanced back at the old man. "What? What’s happening?"

"Just…wait."

Moments later, a group of armored men came into view. Their armor are rusted and mismatched. They seem scrappy and unkempt, carrying an assortment of weapons from swords to spears to bows and arrows. Some wear scarves to cover their faces, while others have crudely tattooed designs on their skin.

"I'm telling you, Keras, this route's getting too risky," one man grumbled. "That last merchant caravan nearly took my head off."

Another man, presumably Keras, scoffed. "You're getting soft, Myron. Where's your sense of adventure?"

"I left it back in Thebes, along with my desire to get skewered by some overzealous guard," Myron retorted.

A third voice chimed in, "Both of you, shut it. We've got a job to do."

"Ah, lighten up, Stavros," Keras said. "It's not like anyone's out here listening to us plan our next big score."

Lucian felt Drakon tense beside him. They watched as the group passed by, oblivious to their presence.

"I'm just saying," Myron continued, his voice fading as they moved down the road, "maybe we should consider a change of tactics. Hit smaller targets, spread out our operations a bit."

"And I'm saying you worry too much," Keras replied. "The bigger the risk, the bigger the reward. That merchant convoy heading to Athens next week? That's our ticket to the big time."

Their voices finally faded into the distance. Drakon waited a few more moments before signaling it was safe to move.

"Who the hell are those?" Lucian asked.

"Bandits no doubt," Drakon spat. "Preying on honest travelers."

"Shouldn't we do something? Warn someone?"

"Not our fight, lad. We've got our own mission to worry about. Besides, we don't know who they're working for or how deep this goes."

"But those merchants they're planning to rob..." Lucian began.

"Will have their own guards," Drakon cut him off. "And now that we know there's increased bandit activity in the area, we'll be on our guard too. Sometimes, the best thing you can do is mind your own business and stay alive."

"Is it because of the war? All these bandits, I mean."

Drakon glanced at him. "Could be one of the reasons. See, war doesn't just affect soldiers. It ripples out, touching everyone. Farmers can't tend their fields, trade routes get disrupted. Some men, they lose everything and turn to banditry out of desperation."

"But those men we saw, they didn't sound desperate. They sounded... I don't know, almost excited about it."

"That's the other side of it. War creates chaos, and some thrive in chaos. Opportunists, they see the confusion as a chance to line their own pockets."

"So it's not just about the fighting then? The war affect everything?"

"More than you might think. Prices go up, food gets scarce. People get scared, start hoarding what they have. Makes rich pickings for those willing to take what isn't theirs."

"But surely the authorities will do something about it?"

"They try. But with resources stretched thin by the war effort, bandits like those we saw can slip through the cracks. Especially if they've got powerful backers."

Lucian always thought of war in terms of battles and glory, not its effects on ordinary people. "It's a mess, isn't it?"

"That it is, boy. That's why our mission is so important. We're not just gathering information for Sparta. We're trying to find a way to end this damn war before it tears everything apart."

Lucian's brow furrowed as he processed the old warrior's words. After a few minutes, he voiced the question that had been nagging at him.

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"These powerful backers you mentioned... who are they exactly?"

"Could be anyone with a coin and an agenda. Persians looking to destabilize Greek territories, corrupt politicians aiming to line their pockets, even wealthy merchants trying to eliminate competition."

"But wouldn't bandits care who they're working for?"

Drakon let out a dry chuckle. "To men like that, loyalty goes to the highest bidder. They don't give two shits about politics or patriotism. It's all about the drachma."

"So they'd work for Persians, even though they're our enemies?"

"Correct," he nodded. "To them, there's no 'our' about it. They're in it for themselves. Persians, Spartans, Athenians – it's all the same to a bandit. Whoever pays best gets their services."

"That's... that's fucked up."

"Welcome to the real world, boy. It's not all honor and glory like the stories would have you believe."

"How do you know all this?"

"Let's just say I've seen my fair share of the uglier side of things. Part of why I agreed to this mission. Sometimes, to do what's right, you've got to get your hands dirty."

"So our job... it's not just about gathering information, is it? We might have to deal with people like those bandits?"

Drakon's hand fell to the hilt of his sword. "If it comes to that, yes. Why do you think Brasidas chose us? But let's hope it doesn't. Our primary goal is to observe and report. Anything beyond that... well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

As they ascended the mountain pass, the wind howled louder, whipping through their clothes. The fog thickened, a ghostly shroud that dampened their vision and muffled their steps. Lucian's eyes caught flickering lights on the horizon—faint but unmistakable, the distant fires of Thrace. They’re close.

"Do you know any bandit groups that you’ve encountered in the past?" Lucian broke the silence.

"Yes, I've come across a few in my time as a Spartan soldier."

"Tell me about them."

"There's the Shadows of Hermes," Drakon began. "Tricky bastards, they are. Known for their stealth and cunning. Story goes they once emptied an entire Athenian treasury without a single guard noticing until days later."

"How'd they manage that?"

"No one knows for certain," he shrugged. "Some say they have ways of becoming invisible. Load of horseshit if you ask me, but they're slippery enough to make people believe it."

"Wow, that group gives off a mysterious vibe doesn’t it?"

"It is. Then there's the Bulls of Ares," Drakon continued. "Complete opposite of the Shadows. These brutes prefer the direct approach. They'll hit a caravan like a thunderbolt, all violence and chaos. Heard tell of them taking on a unit of Theban soldiers and coming out on top."

"Gods. How does anyone stand against them?"

"They're fierce, true, but their strength is also their weakness. They're predictable, and their leader's got a temper that often gets the better of him."

"Really? I wouldn’t want to encounter them."

"Don’t worry. They only come when they sense weakness or a lucrative opportunity. We'll be neither if we keep our wits about us."

"I sure hope so."

"That’s nothing compared to the next one I’m going to tell you."

"Which is?"

"The Serpents of Apollo are the ones you really need to watch out for. They're not just bandits, they're a cult. Mix religion with thievery. Clever buggers, they are. They'll rob you blind and have you thanking them for the privilege."

"How so?"

"They prey on superstition," Drakon explained. "Convince people that their raids are the will of the gods. Even got some villages paying them 'tribute' for protection. From what, you might ask? From the Serpents themselves, of course."

"That's... that's genius. Horrible, but genius."

"True," Drakon agreed grimly. "It's a reminder that not all dangers come at you with a sword. Sometimes the greatest threat is to your mind, not your body."

As they walked, Drakon shared a few more stories - tales of daring heists, brutal ambushes, and cunning deceptions.

"Remember, boy," he concluded, "knowing your enemy is half the battle. These groups, they're not just nameless bandits. They've got their own codes, their own ways of operating."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in deep oranges and purples, they found themselves approaching a small clearing near a flowing river. The sound of water gurgling over rocks provided a soothing backdrop to the chirping of evening birds.

Drakon surveyed the area. "This'll do for the night," he announced, dropping his pack. "Good defensible position, water nearby. Let's set up camp."

"I'll get a fire going," Lucian offered, already moving to gather firewood.

"Good. I'll check the perimeter, make sure we're alone out here."

As Drakon disappeared into the growing shadows, Lucian set about his task. He arranged the wood carefully and used his flint to spark the tinder. Within minutes, a small fire was crackling, pushing back the encroaching darkness.

"All clear," Drakon returned as Lucian was laying out their bedrolls. "Saw some deer tracks, but nothing to worry about."

They settled in for the night, sharing a simple meal of dried meat and hard bread from their packs. The fire cast flickering shadows across their faces as they ate in companionable silence, each lost in their own thoughts about the day's events.

As the meal concluded, Drakon spoke up. "You did well during the past days. You're learning fast."

Lucian gathered their plates, spoons, and forks, then headed to the river. The cool water rushed over his hands as he scrubbed away remnants of their meal. "Thanks. It's... it's a lot to take in, but I'm trying."

"That's all anyone can ask. Now, get some rest. I'll take first watch."

Despite his mentor's words, Lucian found sleep elusive at first. He lay on his bedroll, staring up at the stars peeking through the tree canopy.

Eventually, the gentle sounds of the river and the rhythmic crackling of the fire lulled him into a deep sleep.

Lucian's sleep was restless, filled with disjointed images and sounds. In his dream, he heard screams piercing the air, the clash of swords ringing in his ears. The noise grew louder, more intense, until—He jerked awake. He blinked, trying to orient himself. Something felt off.

"Drakon?" Lucian called as he looked around.

No response.

Unease crept over him as he realized his mentor was nowhere in sight. Wrapping his blanket around his shoulders against the night chill, he stood up and peered into the darkness, unsure of what to do but knowing he couldn't just sit and wait.

Cautiously, he began to walk, not wanting to stray too far from camp but compelled to search for his mentor. The river's gentle gurgle seemed louder in the stillness of night.

"You're awake," a voice suddenly came from his left.

Lucian whirled around, adrenaline spiking. Leaning against a tree, arms crossed and smiling, was a tall man with blond hair. His casual posture seemed at odds with the tension of the moment. "Who are you?"

The stranger's smile widened. "That's not really the question you wanted to ask, is it? You want to know where your friend is."

Lucian fell silent, unsettled by how easily this man had read his thoughts. He stared, wary but curious. Where did this person come from? And how in the hell did he suddenly appear out of nowhere?

The man continued, pointing off into the darkness. "Your friend went that way."

Lucian followed the man's gesture with his eyes, torn between following Drakon's trail and confronting this mysterious figure. After a moment's hesitation, he decided to trust his instincts and go after his mentor.

As he turned to leave, a nagging thought made him pause. He looked back and asked, "Who are you?"

"Linus," he replied. "My name is Linus."

With that cryptic introduction hanging in the air, Lucian hurried off in the direction Linus had indicated.