The tavern's din swirled around them of laughter, shouting orders, and the clinking of cups.

Stephanos leaned in. "I've got an idea," he said. "We get him drunk. Loosen his tongue, maybe get some information about Lucian."

"And how do you propose we do that? Challenge him to a drinking contest?"

"Exactly. I'll-"

"No," Drakon cut him off. "You're not doing it."

"Why not? I can hold my liquor."

"Kid, I've seen you after three cups of wine. You start singing love ballads to your sword."

"That was one time," Stephanos protested, his cheeks flushing. "And it was a strong wine."

"Doesn't matter. We need you sober. If this goes south, I need someone with a clear head to back me up."

Stephanos frowned. "So what, you're going to do it? No offense, old man, but can you even keep up with that mountain over there?"

"I may be old, but I've been drinking before you even held a spear in your hand. I once out-drank a Thracian warlord. The man had a liver like an ox and could drink most men under the table. I left him snoring in a pool of his own drool."

"Fine," Stephanos conceded. "But what if you get too drunk to get any useful information?"

"That's why you're staying sober. You'll be my backup. Keep an eye on things, make sure I don't say anything stupid. And if I start to lose it, you drag my ass out of here. Got it?"

Stephanos didn't look happy, but agreed. "Got it. Just... be careful, alright? We don't know what this guy's capable of."

"I've got this," Drakon said, standing up and straightening his tunic. "Wish me luck."

"Ok, good luck."

Drakon made his way to the bar, squeezing between patrons until he reached the giant's side. Up close, the man was even more imposing. His shoulders were as broad as an ox yoke, his arms thick as tree trunks.

"Quite a drought we're having," Drakon started, signaling the barkeep for a drink. "Makes a man thirsty."

The giant grunted, not bothering to look at him.

Undeterred, Drakon pressed on. "You look like a man who knows his way around a cup. What's your poison?"

Another grunt and Drakon sighed internally. This was going to be harder than he thought.

"Not much for conversation, eh? That's alright. Sometimes a man just wants to drink in peace. Mind if I join you?"

The giant finally turned, fixing him with a glare that would have sent most men scurrying. "What do you want, old man?"

He grinned, undaunted. "Just looking for some good company and better wine. And you look like you’re a fine fella to be with. Name's Drakon. And you are?"

The giant stared at him for a few seconds, as if deciding whether to answer or simply crush his skull. Finally, he spoke. "Braxus."

"Braxus," Drakon repeated. "Strong name. Suits you. So, Braxus, what brings a man like you to a place like this?"

"Drinking."

"A man after my own heart," Drakon laughed. He raised his cup. "To good wine and better company."

Braxus hesitated, then clinked his massive cup against Drakon's. They drank, the old Spartan matched the giant gulp for gulp.

Drakon wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, letting out a satisfied sigh. "Now that's good stuff. Nothing like a strong drink after a long day, eh?"

The giant nodded, expression softening. Drakon sensed an opening and pressed on.

"So, what's your trade, Braxus? With arms like those, I'd wager you're no stranger to hard work."

The giant's chest puffed up a bit. "I'm a guard. Been working at a private residence in the city."

"Is that right?" Drakon's eyebrows shot up in feigned surprise. "Must be an important person to need a guard like you. Bet not many people give you trouble."

"It's not bad work. Mostly just standing around, looking intimidating. The pay's decent enough."

"Sounds like a good gig. In my younger days, I did some guard work myself. Though I doubt I ever looked as intimidating as you."

"You were a guard?"

"Among other things," Drakon nodded. "Spent most of my life in the army, but did some private work too. Guarding, escorting, that sort of thing. But that's all behind me now. These days, I prefer the company of a good cup of wine to a sword."

"War's a nasty business. I've seen what it does to men."

"That it is," Drakon agreed, raising his cup. "To peace, then. And to the men who keep it."

They drank again, a companionable silence falling between them. Drakon could feel the alcohol warming his blood, but his mind remained sharp. He needed to steer the conversation towards more useful topics.

"You know," he continued, "guard work can be interesting. You must see all sorts of folk in your line of duty."

"You'd be surprised. All kinds come through. Rich, poor, soldiers, merchants. Even saw a group of Persian traders the other day."

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Drakon's ears perked up at this, but he kept his tone casual. "Persians, eh? That's unusual. Didn't think we got many of them around here these days."

"They're around. More than most people realize. But you didn't hear that from me."

The old Spartan opened his mouth to probe further, but Braxus suddenly laughed, clapping him on the back with enough force to nearly knock him off his stool. "You're not bad for an old man," he said. "I like you."

"There's life in these old bones yet. Another round?"

A small smile tugged at Braxus’ lips. As the barkeep refilled their cups, Drakon settled in.

The night wore on, the tavern's raucous atmosphere intensified. They sat hunched over their drinks, voices growing louder with each cup of wine.

"You know," Drakon slurred, swaying on his stool, "I ever tell you 'bout the time I bedded twins in Corinth?"

Braxus leaned in. "No shit? How'd you manage that?"

"It was during the festival of Dionysus. I was young, full of piss and vinegar. These two beauties, sisters mind you, were serving wine at one of the temples. One thing led to another, and next thing I know, I'm sandwiched between 'em like a piece of meat in a pita."

Stephanos cringed, sinking lower in his seat. He'd heard this story before, and it only got worse from here.

"Go on," Braxus refilled their cups.

"Well, turns out they had a bit of a competition going. Each trying to outdo the other, if you catch my drift. By the end of it, I couldn't walk straight for a week. But damn, what a night!"

Braxus roared with laughter, slapping the bar hard enough to make the cups jump. "You lucky bastard! The best I ever managed was a fumble with the baker's daughter behind her father's shop. Damn near got caught when a sack of flour fell on us."

"That's nothing," Drakon wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. "There was this one time in Athens-"

"Please, no," Stephanos muttered under his breath, but Drakon was already launching into another ribald tale.

As the stories grew more outrageous, he noticed Braxus's demeanor changing. The giant's booming laughter gave way to quieter chuckles, then to a sort of melancholy silence.

"You alright there, big man?" Drakon asked, noticing the shift.

Braxus sighed, his massive shoulders slumping. "It's just... hearing all your stories. Makes me realize how much I missed out on."

"What do you mean?"

"Growing up, I was always the big one. The freak. Kids used to throw rocks at me, call me names. 'Ox-boy' was a favorite," he stared into his cup. "By the time I was old enough to be interested in girls, they were all scared of me. Thought I'd crush 'em or something."

Drakon laid a hand on the giant's arm. "Shit, man. That's rough. Kids can be cruel little fucks."

"Got better as I got older. People started respecting the size, you know? But sometimes... sometimes I wonder what it would've been like to just be normal."

"Normal's overrated. Look at you now. You're a fucking mountain of a man. Bet those same little shits who threw rocks would piss themselves if they saw you now."

A small smile tugged at Braxus's lips. "Maybe. Still..."

"No, no 'still'," he interrupted. "You're here, aren't you? Drinking with me, swapping stories. That's living, my friend. So what if you got a late start? Plenty of time to make up for it."

Braxus considered this for a moment, then raised his cup. "To late starts then."

"To late starts," Drakon clinked his cup.

As they drank, Stephanos shook his head in disbelief. Somehow, Drakon had managed to bond with this giant over shared humiliation and missed opportunities. It was bizarre, uncomfortable, and yet... effective. He had to admit, the old man knew what he was doing.

Still, as Drakon launched into yet another story about a particularly flexible acrobat he'd met in Thebes, Stephanos couldn't help but wish he'd gone deaf for the evening. Some things, he decided, were better left to the imagination.

The night wore on, and the tavern's atmosphere grew hazier. Drakon and Braxus, both well into their cups, swayed on their stools, their words slurring together in an incomprehensible jumble. Stephanos leaned in, straining to make sense of their ramblings.

"And then," Drakon hiccupped, "the goat... it jumped right over the... the thing!"

Braxus roared with laughter, nearly falling off his stool. "The thing! Of course! Brilliant!"

"But wait," he held up a finger. "It gets... it gets better. The goat, it... it..."

"It what?"

Drakon blinked. "I... I don't remember. But it was fucking hilarious!"

They both burst into laughter, pounding the bar and spilling their drinks.

"You know what's really funny?" Braxus hiccupped, wiping tears from his eyes. "One time, I... I tried to... to climb a tree."

"A tree?"

"Yeah, a tree. But I was... I was too big. The branches kept... kept breaking," he mimed snapping twigs with his massive hands.

"Did you... did you fall?"

"Like a... like a sack of rocks," Braxus nodded, then burst into giggles. "Landed right in a... a pile of sheep shit!"

Their laughter burst through the tavern, drawing annoyed glances from other patrons.

"Speaking of shit," Drakon said. "Did I ever tell you about the time I... I mistook a bull for a cow?"

"No. What happened?"

"Well," the old man started, then paused, looking confused. "Wait, was it a bull or a boar? Or maybe it was a... a really big dog?"

"Does it matter?"

"Guess not," Drakon shrugged. "Anyway, there I was, face to face with this... this thing. And I thought to myself, 'Drakon, you handsome beast, you can milk anything with nipples.'"

Stephanos, still listening nearby, buried his face in his hands, mortified. This was getting them nowhere.

"My turn, my turn," Braxus said. "Last week, w..we grabbed this kid, s..see. Skinny little shit. Boss said we needed him for something."

Drakon's eyes widened, a moment of clarity breaking through the alcoholic haze. "A..a kid? Who was it?"

"Fuck if I know. Some teenager. Dark hair, I think. Or was it light? Shit, it's all fuzzy."

"Where'd you take him?" Drakon pressed, fighting to keep his voice steady.

"Oh, that's easy. We got this secret room in the boss's house. Under the kitchen. There's this big... big..." he gesticulated, searching for the word.

"Trapdoor?" Stephanos supplied, unable to contain himself.

"Yeah! Trapdoor!" Braxus exclaimed. "Under the rug. Can't miss it if you know where to look."

Drakon nodded, trying to commit the information to his alcohol-soaked memory. "And the kid's still there?"

"Probably. Unless the boss moved him. But enough about work. Let me tell you about this time I arm-wrestled a bear..."

As Braxus launched into another outlandish tale, Drakon's head began to droop. The combination of wine and relief at finally getting some useful information was taking its toll.

"Wolf," Stephanos whispered. "Stay awake."

But it was too late. With a final hiccup, Drakon's head hit the bar with a dull thud. Beside him, Braxus was already snoring, his massive frame slumped over the counter.

"Shit," Stephanos shook the old man's shoulder. "Come on. Wake up."

Drakon remained motionless. He looked around the tavern, weighing his options. He couldn't carry the Wolf out of here, and he certainly couldn't leave him alone with Braxus. But every moment they delayed put Lucian in more danger.

"Fuck it," Stephanos decided, flagging down the barkeep. "Make sure these two don't leave or get robbed. I'll be back for them."

The barkeep nodded, eyeing the unconscious pair. "Just make sure they pay their tab."

He tossed a few coins on the counter. "That should cover it. And a little extra for the trouble."

With a final glance at them, Stephanos headed for the door. He'd never planned on infiltrating the Whisperer's house alone, but he didn't have a choice now. He was on his own now, about to break into a house full of enemies. But he had the element of surprise on his side.

"Hold on, Lucian," he muttered, setting off towards the house. "I'm coming."