"Damn, Lexi, watch where you're stepping," Lucian grumbled as a pebble from the uneven road found its way into his sandal.

He shook his foot, trying to dislodge the annoyance without much success.

"Sorry, I was just looking at those Argive merchants. Do you see their tunics? So colorful compared to ours," she replied, her eyes fixating on a group of traders whose bright garments contrasted sharply with the earthy tones favored by the Spartans.

The road to Sparta was filled with activity. Merchants from distant lands, recognizable by their exotic attire, mingled with local travelers. Athenians in their finely woven chitons passed by, their noses slightly raised as if the dust of the Spartan roads offended them.

"Those Athenians think they're better than us," Lucian said.

"Maybe, but I like their clothes," Lexi teased, nudging him playfully.

"Wouldn't catch me dead in one of those," Lucian scoffed, adjusting the rough fabric of his own cloak. "Look there—" he nodded toward a group of Spartan boys marching in formation as they chanted a cadence.

They were young, yet already being forged into warriors. They’re clad in crimson capes. Their forehead glistened with sweat under the sun and their head shaved. Ahead, a man, who seems to be their instructor, sprinted, barking commands at them as they followed him.

"Lucian, you're worth ten of them, and you don't need anyone's permission to be strong," Lexi said, squeezing his arm. "You already are strong."

"Easy for you to say," he sighed. "I need a true test. A warrior’s test."

"What are you talking about, didn’t you do that with Damon?"

"Yeah, but I need to be exposed to battle."

Lexi let out a gasp. "I'll never understand men and their obsession with battles. It's just annoying."

As they approached the city gates, the sounds of the market began to swell—a myriad of shouts, the clanging of metal, and the braying of livestock. They entered the throng with Lucian scanning the stalls.

"Fresh fish! Get your fresh fish here!" a merchant bellowed, his table slippery and shimmering with the morning's catch.

"Olives, cheese, bread! All you need for a hearty meal!" another vendor chimed in, waving his hands over baskets laden with food.

"Look at the blacksmiths," Lexi pointed out, her gaze locked onto the sparks flying as hammer met anvil.

The rhythmic pounding was hypnotic, each strike sending a shower of orange sparks into the air.

"Need a new blade, or maybe just a sharpening?" one of the smiths called out, noticing Lucian's interest.

The man's forearms bulged with muscle, and sweat glistened on his brow as he worked the metal.

"Maybe another time," Lucian responded, moving on.

Iron Pelanors weren't easy to come by for a helot, and even less so for someone with a history like his.

"Let's stick to what we need," he reminded Lexi, who seemed momentarily mesmerized by a stall selling jewelry. The trinkets glinted tantalizingly in the sunlight, but she nodded in agreement, pulling her gaze away.

"Right, we'll grab some vegetables, then head back. Oh, look—there's the goat cheese you like!"

"Only if the price is right," Lucian said, though the corner of his mouth quivered at the thought of the creamy delicacy.

As they walked through the Agora, they were surrounded by vibrant statues of the gods. Artemis, with her bow and arrow raised in the air. Aphrodite, embodying beauty and love. Worshipers of all ages filed past, some pausing to leave offerings of fruits and coins at the feet of their chosen deity. Whispers of prayers for protection in battle and successful love affairs filled the air.

But what truly awed them was the Temple of Athena that loomed ahead. Its grandeur could not be ignored as towering columns held up a magnificent pediment engraved with scenes of the goddess bestowing wisdom upon the brave Spartans. The temple itself seemed to radiate power and influence, drawing all eyes towards it.

In the entrance, flanked by two larger-than-life statues of Athena herself, adorned in full battle armor with her shield and spear made of bronze, they couldn't help but feel a sense of reverence wash over them. A few citizens were leaving offerings of olive oil and wine at her feet, their heads bowed in deep respect. The scent of burning incense mingled with the fresh blooms adorning her altar, creating a sense of sacredness in the air.

"Wow," Lexi exhaled. "Do you think she hears them? The prayers, I mean."

Lucian glanced down at her. "If she does, I hope she knows we need more than words to protect us."

She nodded, her eyes lingering on the towering effigy of Athena. "Actions do speak louder to the gods. We should offer something?"

"Like what?"

"I don’t know," Lexi paused. "Something?"

"Come on," Lucian waved his hand, leading the way toward their regular merchant, a stout woman with a boisterous laugh and a keen eye for quality. "Let's get what we came for and head home."

"Ok, fine."

"Thalia's stand should be just ahead," Lucian noted, weaving through the throng of shoppers. "Remember, we're not to squander."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Lexi retorted with a roll of her eyes.

They approached a stall where an older woman with hands like leather sorted through a pile of root vegetables. Thalia's stand was modest yet vibrant, with a rainbow palette of produce spilling out from wicker baskets and wooden crates. Thalia herself stood proudly in the center, her sun-beaten face creased into a welcoming smile.

"Ah, my favorite customers!" She greeted them. "What brings you to my humble corner today?"

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"Hello, Thalia. We're here for the usual," Lucian said, passing her a small sack. "Some potatoes, onions, and if you've got any, those peppers from last week?"

"Coming right up," she replied, her hands selecting the freshest produce.

As she worked, Lexi leaned in closer to Lucian, lowering her voice. "Did you hear about his scuffle with Damon?"

"Wait, what?" Thalia interjected, pausing with a pepper in hand. "You tangled with Damon? That boy's bad news. You could get more than a bruised face if the wrong people take notice."

"Trust me, I didn't start it. And I would've ended it too if a General hadn't intervened."

"Intervened? How'd you swing that?" Thalia asked, skeptically weighing the peppers on her scale.

"Let's just say... fortune was in my favor," Lucian shrugged, avoiding the details.

It wasn't every day a General stepped in on behalf of a slave, and he wasn’t eager to puff up the tale.

"Be careful, brother," Lexi whispered. "Damon isn't one to let things go so easily."

"Since when did you become my mother?" he teased.

But her words stayed with him, a subtle undercurrent of unease amidst the lively market banter.

"There you go," Thalia handed over the goods, neatly wrapped in cloth. "Stay out of trouble, both of you. And Lucian," she added with a pointed look, "watch your back."

"Don’t worry. I know. Here, this should cover it all," Lucian said, handing her a few iron pelanors.

She accepted them with a nod as they turned to leave.

"Look—" Lexi's voice trailed off, and Lucian followed her gaze.

There, not far from the market square, was the Spartan girl he'd seen days before, the one whose image lingered in his mind like a haunting melody. Today, she carried a basket filled with herbs and a loaf of bread.

"Hello," Lexi waved her hand. "Earth to Lucian. Are you still there?"

"Huh?" he snapped back to reality, blinking away the unexpected reverie. "Yeah, I'm here," he muttered, forcing his eyes away from the girl.

"What are you on about now?" Lexi's gaze swept around the market and landed on the Spartan girl her brother had been showing interest in lately. "Oh, I see. Now, I know what you’re looking at."

"What?"

"It’s that girl again. You’re looking at her ass."

Lucian suddenly stopped and thrust his basket into Lexi's arms. "Hold this!" he urgently whispered before taking off in a sprint.

Lexi watched in confusion as he disappeared into the crowd. "Wait, what? Lucian!" she called after him, but he was already gone. "Great, just great. He just left me here. That bastard."

He kept a respectful distance, blending in among the other market-goers. At each stall the girl visited, Lucian lingered behind a column or feigned interest in nearby goods. She was beautiful, undeniably so, with a poise that bespoke her status—a world away from his own.

As she made her way down the street, Lucian couldn't resist trailing her, captivated yet cautious. He knew the lines that divided them, invisible barriers stronger than the city's walls. He was a slave; she was Spartan. No good could come from this fascination.

He watched from behind a stack of crates as she purchased some figs, her laughter light and airy as she exchanged pleasantries with the vendor. Each word, each smile, felt like another layer added to the mystery that shrouded her.

Finally, she turned towards a house—her home, presumably—and ascended the steps. From his hidden vantage point in a nearby tree, Lucian held his breath, waiting. Then, a voice called out, gentle but firm.

"Carme! Where have you been? You know how I worry."

Carme. Her name was Carme. With that single word, the girl ceased to be a mere specter of beauty in his mind. She was real, she had a name, and as much as reason told him to forget her, he knew it wouldn't be that simple.

"Time to head back," Lucian murmured to himself, reluctantly tearing his gaze away as he walked back to the road.

His thoughts were still ensnared by the fleeting glimpse of Carme when he heard the unmistakable voice that could sour fresh wine. "Lucian! Stop right there, you mongrel!"

He kept walking, his sandaled feet kicking up dust on the well-trodden road. Lucian knew that voice belonged to Damon, but today, he had no patience for the man's bluster.

"By the gods, I said stop!" Damon's command was followed by the heavy footsteps of his lackeys hurrying to catch up.

"Can't you see I'm not in the mood for your crap today?" Lucian didn't turn; he just called back over his shoulder.

"Ha! The helot pup thinks he can ignore me," Damon sneered loudly, enough for passersby to glance their way. "After what you did to my face, you think you can just walk away?"

"Your face needed rearranging," Lucian retorted under his breath, finally halting as Damon and his gang barred his path. Three against one—a coward's odds.

"Move out of the way," Lucian demanded, locking eyes with him.

"Move? Not likely," Damon spat, stepping closer. "You got lucky last time, fighting one-on-one. Let's see how you fare now."

"Three on one? Even for you, that's pathetic," Lucian scoffed.

"Pathetic or not, you'll pay," Damon gestured with hand, and his cronies closed in. "Hold him down!"

"What? Are you serious?"

"Serious as one can be."

The first goon reached for Lucian, who quickly twisted the man's arm behind his back. With a forceful shove, he sent the man crashing into his partner and they both tumbled to the ground in a heap.

Damon, face flushed with anger, lunged forward with a forward hook. Lucian sidestepped the attack while simultaneously striking Damon's throat. He choked, grasping at his neck as he sank to his knees, having trouble breathing. He tried to talk, but all he spilled out were gargled responses.

The fight was over even before it began.

"Stay the hell away from me," Lucian brushed off his hands. "Last warning."

He didn't wait to see if Damon would rise again. Instead, he turned on his heel and continued on his way, leaving the defeated trio in his wake.

——

Lucian's breath was still heavy from the skirmish as he navigated through the thronging marketplace, his eyes scanning for his sister. He spotted her soon enough—arms folded, weight shifted to one leg with an expression of annoyance.

"Where in Hades have you been?" she asked.

"Sorry," Lucian exhaled, brushing past a merchant hawking olives. "Ran into Damon and his lackeys."

"Again? By Zeus, can't you just walk away without turning it into a brawl?"

He approached her, noticing the way her eyes flicked over him, checking for injuries. "They blocked my path. What was I supposed to do?"

"Use that thick skull of yours to think!" Lexi unfolded her arms, her irritation softening as she failed to find any harm on him. "You can't keep tangling with Damon. One day, luck won't be on your side."

"Didn't need luck," Lucian grumbled, picking up the basket he'd left behind. "Just a clear moment and a bit of space."

"Space? You mean like the kind you left me with when you rushed off after that Spartan girl?"

"Ah, about that—" Lucian hesitated, shifting the basket to his other hand.

"Save it. I saw you tailing her like some lovestruck puppy. You're lucky you didn't get caught—or worse, noticed by her family."

"Nothing happened. Besides, I'm not stupid enough to start trouble with a Spartan family."

"Could've fooled me," she retorted, pushing off from the wall. "So, did the lovely lady capture your heart then?"

"Hardly," Lucian deflected. "She was just... interesting."

"Interesting enough to ditch me, a girl, in the middle of the market," Lexi's gaze was pointed as she started walking, expecting him to follow. "Who knows what will happen to me if some creep suddenly kidnaps me."

"Look, I said I'm sorry," Lucian fell into step beside her, the basket swinging slightly between them. "Won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't. I'm not fond of playing lookout while you chase after ghosts."

There was a teasing lilt to Lexi's voice as they maneuvered through the crowd.

"Chase after—she was hardly a ghost."

"Whatever you say, brother. Let's just get home before we run into more 'interesting' distractions."

"Fine," Lucian nodded, a small smile tugging at his own lips.

They walked on, side by side, the clamor of the market fading into the background as they made their way back to the modest life awaiting them beyond its boundaries.