As the first rays of dawn crept through the tavern's grimy windows, Lucian stirred on the hard wooden floor. His head throbbed, mouth dry as desert sand, as consciousness slowly returned. He blinked, trying to bring the world into focus, his stomach lurching with every movement.

Groaning, Lucian pushed himself up to a sitting position, the room spinning around him. As his vision cleared, he took in the aftermath of what happened last night. The tavern was a mess of overturned chairs, spilled wine, and discarded food.

His eyes fell on the table where they had started their evening. There, sprawled across its surface, lay Drakon and Stephanos, both dead to the world. Stephanos had his arm draped over a woman Lucian didn't recognize, her dark hair spilling across his chest.

But it was the sight next to Drakon that made Lucian do a double-take. The old Spartan was curled up against a large, muscular man, his head resting on the stranger's broad chest. The incongruous image might have been comical if his head wasn't pounding so hard.

"What in the gods happened?" He whispered. "It must have been one hell of a night if that old fart had his way with a big guy."

The stale air of the tavern suddenly felt suffocating. Lucian staggered to his feet, swaying slightly as he made his way to the door. He needed fresh air, needed to clear his head.

Stumbling out into the street, Lucian gulped in the cool morning air. The city was just beginning to wake, the first stirrings of daily life. He leaned against a nearby wall, closing his eyes and willing the world to stop spinning.

He weaved unsteadily, trying to dodge the flow of people going about their morning business.

His bleary eyes locked onto a fountain up ahead, the sight of cool water was suddenly the most appealing thing in the world. Lucian made his way over, nearly tripping on the uneven cobblestones. He reached the fountain's edge and plunged his hands into the water, splashing his face repeatedly.

The shock of the cold water helped clear some of the fog from his mind. Lucian was about to dunk his head fully into the fountain when a voice cut through his hazy thoughts.

"Lucian, correct?"

He froze, water dripping from his chin. Slowly, he turned to face the speaker. A woman stood nearby, dressed in the white tunic of a temple priestess, with a gold-trimmed robe draped over her shoulders. Lucian blinked, surprised to see such a figure addressing him, especially in his current disheveled state.

"Uh, yeah. That's me," he mumbled, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "How do you know my name?"

"I know things like that."

"No you don’t. No one does," he eyed her from head to toe. "Let me guess, you’re a priestess."

"Something like that, but my job is more complicated."

"How so?"

"People all over the world flock to ask me questions, and I give them their future."

"Wait a minute," he pointed his finger at her, "are you what I think you are?"

The woman smiled. "I'm an oracle."

Lucian frowned, his alcohol-addled brain struggling to process this information. "Okay... but that doesn't really explain how you know who I am. And what are you doing out here anyway? Shouldn't you be in a temple or something?"

She shrugged, the movement causing the gold trim on her robe to catch the morning light. "I'm on a break."

"I didn't think oracles needed breaks."

"We're human too, you know. We have the same needs as anyone else – rest, food, a chance to stretch our legs."

"Alright, fine," Lucian rubbed his temples, trying to ward off his growing headache. "But you still haven't answered my question. Why did you take notice of me? And seriously, how do you know my name?"

The oracle stepped closer, reaching out to place her hand on his. "Would you like to know your future, Lucian?"

He pulled his hand back. "Don't I need to give you money or something for that?"

Ignoring his question, she pressed on. "It's important that you know what lies ahead. The path you're on... you need to know your future."

Lucian hesitated. Part of him wanted to dismiss this as the ramblings of some street charlatan, but there was something in her eyes that gave him pause. And if he was honest with himself, the idea of knowing what was coming was tempting, especially given the dangerous task that lay ahead of him today.

"You seem pretty desperate to tell me this," he said. "Did you see something in my future that I need to know about?"

"Not know, but warn."

"A warning? What are you talking about?"

"Do you want to know?"

What’s in his future that needs to be told about? If it's a warning, that could mean anything. But given the dangerous mission he was about to embark on, he couldn't afford to ignore it.

"Okay, let's hear what you want to say."

The oracle nodded, glancing around, then led Lucian to a quieter spot near the fountain, away from the increasing foot traffic.

"Your path is not an easy one," she began. "You stand at a crossroads, and the choice you make will have far-reaching consequences, not just for you, but for many others."

"That's pretty vague," Lucian snorted. "Could apply to anyone, really."

"I see a journey in you that you will take," she continued. "It stretches before you, fraught with hardship and danger. A long voyage awaits you, one that will carry you across treacherous seas. In those waters, you'll fight not just for your cause, but for your very life."

Lucian felt a chill run down his spine despite the morning warmth. "Journey? What journey? What are you talking about?"

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

The oracle's grip on his hand tightened.

"But the greatest pain lies not in the physical trials you'll face. I see... loss. Your family. They—"

"Stop," Lucian interrupted, yanking his hand away from her grasp. "That's enough. You don't know what you're talking about."

The oracle blinked, her eyes refocusing on his face. "I only speak what the gods show me."

"Well, the gods are wrong," he spat and took a step back, shaking his head. "I'm not going on any sea voyage. And my family is safe. You're just making shit up."

"Lucian, please," the oracle reached out towards him. "I know this is difficult to hear, but—"

"No," he cut her off again. "I don't want to hear any more of your predictions or prophecies or whatever the fuck they are. You don't know me. You don't know anything about my life or my family."

"I understand your skepticism, but I urge you to heed my words. The future is not set in stone, but—"

"But nothing," Lucian said. "I'm done with this conversation. Thanks for the... whatever this was, but I've got things to do."

He turned away, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. As he began to walk away, the oracle called out one last time.

"Lucian! Remember, knowledge can be a shield as well as a burden. Don't let fear blind you to the truth!"

He ignored her, quickening his pace. His mind was reeling, torn between dismissing her words as nonsense and grappling with the unsettling feeling that there might be some truth to them. But he couldn't afford to dwell on it now. He had a job to do, a dangerous one at that, and he needed to focus.

Lucian pushed open the tavern door, the stale smell of spilled wine and sweat hitting him like a wall. His eyes quickly found Drakon and Stephanos, still sprawled across the table where he'd left them.

"Shit," he muttered, striding over to them.

The sun was climbing higher in the sky, and they had precious little time to prepare for their mission. He grabbed Stephanos by the shoulder, shaking him.

"Wake up, you drunk bastard," he growled. "We've got work to do."

Stephanos groaned, his eyes fluttering open. "Wha... what's going on?" he slurred, trying to sit up. The movement dislodged the woman draped across him, and she tumbled to the floor with a yelp. "Oh, fuck," he peered over the edge of the table, "sorry about that, love."

The woman glared up at him, rubbing her backside. "You're an ass," she spat, stumbling to her feet and storming out of the tavern.

Lucian turned his attention to Drakon, who hadn't stirred despite the commotion. He shook the old man's shoulder, then slapped his cheek lightly. Nothing.

"Come on, old man," he said. "We don't have time for this."

Drakon snored on, oblivious. The large man he'd been cuddling with earlier had disappeared, leaving the Spartan warrior sprawled face-down on the table.

Lucian ran a hand through his hair, frustration mounting. He glanced around the tavern, spotting the barkeep wiping down the counter.

"Hey," he called out. "You got a bucket of water I could use?"

The barkeep looked up, taking in the scene. A knowing smirk crossed his face. "Yup, I might have just the thing." He disappeared into the back room, returning moments later with a wooden bucket sloshing with water. "Here you go," handing it over, "give 'em hell."

Lucian nodded his thanks, then turned back to Drakon. Without hesitation, he upended the bucket over the old man's head.

The effect was immediate and Drakon shot up with a roar, water cascading down his face and chest. He flailed wildly, nearly falling off the table before Stephanos caught him.

"What in Hades?" He sputtered, wiping water from his eyes. His gaze focused on Lucian. "Boy, you better have a damn good reason for this."

"It's past dawn," he said. "We've got a job to do, remember? The merchant? The box? Any of this ringing a bell?"

Realization dawned on Drakon's face, followed quickly by a wince of pain. "Ah, fuck," pressing a hand to his forehead, "what were we thinking last night?"

"Clearly, you weren't," Lucian retorted and turned to Stephanos, who was looking only marginally more alert. "You too. Both of you, get up. We need to get ready."

Stephanos nodded, sliding off the table with a groan. "Right, right. The plan. Gods, my head feels like it's been trampled by a herd of horses."

"You can nurse your hangovers later," Lucian said, his patience wearing thin. "Right now, we need to focus. The merchant will be here at midday, and we're nowhere near ready."

Drakon stood up, swaying. He squinted at Lucian, water still dripping from his beard. "Alright. You've made your point. Give us a moment to get ourselves together, and we'll go over the plan again."

"Fine. But make it quick. And for the love of the gods, try to look less like you've been dragged through the underworld and back. We're supposed to be inconspicuous, remember?"

Suddenly, Drakon's legs wobbled and his vision blurred. He staggered, then crumpled like a marionette with cut strings, hitting the ground with a dull thud.

"You have got to be kidding me!"

Stephanos knelt down and observed the man's uneven breaths and flushed cheeks. He leaned in closer and lifted one of his eyelids, noting the glassy, unfocused stare beneath. "We have to get him some water, quick!"

"I know where," Lucian gestured with his hand before striding out of the tavern. "Come on."

Stephanos had one of Drakon's arms slung over his shoulder, half-carrying the older man as they stumbled onto the street.

"Come on, this way," Lucian said, pointing towards the fountain. "Some cold water should help wake you two up."

They made slow progress, Stephanos weaving unsteadily under Drakon's weight. As they neared the fountain, Lucian could hear Drakon mumbling incoherently.

"What's he saying?" Lucian glanced back at Stephanos.

"No idea," Stephanos shrugged, nearly losing his balance in the process. "Something about... goats? I think?"

They reached the fountain, and Lucian helped Stephanos lower him to the edge. The old Spartan's eyes were unfocused, his face pale beneath his tan.

"Alright, old fart," Lucian said, cupping some water in his hands. "This'll help clear your head."

But before Lucian could splash him, Drakon lurched forward, as if to dunk his own face in the water. Instead, he overbalanced, toppling face-first onto the cobblestones.

"Fuck!" He exclaimed, dropping to his knees.

He rolled the old man over, relieved to see he was still breathing. But Drakon's eyes were closed, his body limp. "He's out cold," looking up at Stephanos. "Help me get him up."

Stephanos nodded, then immediately winced at the movement. He bent down, grabbing Drakon under the arms while Lucian took his legs. They managed to prop him up against the fountain's edge.

"Wake up, you old goat," Stephanos said, slapping his cheeks. When that didn't work, he scooped up a handful of water and threw it in Drakon's face.

Nothing. His head lolled to the side, a soft snore escaping his lips.

"This is a fucking disaster," Lucian said, running his hands through his hair. "We're going to have to do this without him. Can you pull yourself together enough to help me?"

Stephanos blinked, swaying even though he was standing still. "Yeah... yeah, I can do it. Just need a minute to... to focus."

Lucian watched as the Spartan splashed water on his own face, shaking his head like a dog. But even after several attempts, the man's eyes remained glassy, his movements uncoordinated.

"Stephanos," he said, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Look at me. Are you with me? Can you do this?"

Stephanos met Lucian's gaze, trying to focus. "I'm... I'm trying, kid. But everything's spinning. I can't... can't think straight."

Lucian let out a frustrated sigh. This was not how he'd imagined their carefully laid plans falling apart. He glanced at the sun, climbing higher in the sky. Time was running out.

"Okay, new plan," he whispered. "We get these two back to the inn. Then... then I'll have to do this on my own."

"On your own?" Stephanos slurred, looking confused. "That's... that's dangerous. You can't..."

"We don't have a choice," Lucian cut him off. "The merchant will be here soon, and we only get one shot at this. I'll figure something out."

As Lucian began the arduous task of dragging Drakon to his feet, with minimal help from the still-wobbling Stephanos, his mind raced. The plan had relied on all three of them playing their parts. Now, he'd have to adapt, to improvise. And if he failed...