The morning sun streamed through the kitchen windows as Lucian rummaged through the pantry. He grabbed a loaf of bread and a whole roasted chicken, tearing into both with equal fervor.

As he chewed, a commotion erupted from the hallway. Curious, he peered around the corner, only to witness a sight that made him question his sanity. Drakon was sprinting down the corridor naked, clutching what appeared to be women's undergarments in his gnarled fists. Close behind, two slave girls gave chase to him.

"Give those back, you old lecher!" one of the girls shouted.

Drakon cackled like a madman. "Come and get them, lasses!"

Lucian rolled his eyes and retreated to the kitchen. Some things were better left unseen and unquestioned. He finished his impromptu breakfast and decided to seek out Stephanos, hoping for a more productive start to the day.

He climbed the stairs, careful to avoid any more nude septuagenarians, and knocked on the his door. A muffled "Enter" granted him permission.

Lucian found the Spartan tracker hunched over a small desk, quill in hand as he scribbled on a piece of parchment. "What's that you're writing?" He asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Stephanos didn't look up and kept writing. "A letter to General Brasidas. He needs to be updated on our progress... or lack thereof."

"Ah," Lucian nodded. "That’s probably a good idea."

"Speaking of progress, where's our esteemed mentor? Last I saw, he was giving the household staff quite a show."

"Oh, he’s giving a show alright. He’s parading his ‘show’ for the whole household to see."

Stephanos paused and glanced at him, brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"Do I have to?"

"Probably not," Lucian chuckled. "Let's just say Drakon's idea of morning exercise involves property theft and public indecency."

Stephanos pinched the bridge of his nose. "That man will be the death of us all. Or at least our reputation." He set down his quill and stretched. "But enough about Drakon's antics. We need to discuss our next move."

Lucian pulled up a chair. "I've been thinking about that. What's our plan? We can't stay here indefinitely, feasting on Thais' hospitality and chasing ghosts."

Stephanos nodded, leaning back in his seat. "You're right. We need to focus on our original mission – gathering intelligence on the Persians. Thais gave us some leads last night, remember? The fishmongers, Aristos and Kyra."

"The ones she said might have connections to Persian merchants."

"Exactly. I propose we start there. We'll need to be discreet, of course. No barging in and demanding information. We'll pose as travelers, perhaps merchants ourselves, looking to expand our trade routes."

"What about the ones the Thais suggested?"

"I had a thought of that."

"And?"

"It’s stupid. I won’t use it."

"Ok. But what if they're not forthcoming? Or worse, what if they're actively working with the Persians and see through our ruse?"

Stephanos was about to respond when another commotion erupted in the hallway. The thundering of footsteps grew louder, and suddenly Drakon's naked form streaked past the open doorway, a manic grin plastered across his face.

"Can't catch me, you silly wenches!" he cackled, waving a handful of undergarments like a victory banner.

Hot on his heels, a group of slave girls charged after him, this time more of them came.

"Get back here, you old goat!" one shouted.

Another yelled, "I swear by the gods, I'll shave you bald in your sleep!"

Lucian and Stephanos exchanged a look of exasperation before the noise faded down the corridor.

"I'm starting to think we should have left him in Sparta," Stephanos muttered, shaking his head.

"And miss out on all this entertainment? Where's your sense of adventure?"

"I think I've had quite enough 'adventure' for one morning," he turned back to Lucian. "Now, about our plan..."

"I've been thinking. What if I do some reconnaissance on the fishmongers before we approach them directly? Get a sense of their routines, who they talk to, that sort of thing."

"Spying, you mean?" Stephanos raised an eyebrow. "It's not a bad idea, but how exactly do you plan to go about it? These people know the faces around here. A stranger lurking about would draw attention."

"I can do it," Lucian shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Ways of... observing without being seen."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Let's just say I'm good at blending in," Lucian replied, avoiding eye contact. In his mind, he was already formulating a plan. A rat scurrying through the shadows or a stray cat perched on a roof would raise no suspicions. With his ability to possess animals, he could gather information without anyone being the wiser.

Stephanos studied him for a moment. "I don't like secrets between us. We're in this together. If you have some special skill or contact that could help our mission, I need to know about it."

Lucian felt a pang of guilt. He trusted Stephanos, but the truth about his divine heritage and powers seemed too fantastical, too dangerous to share. Not yet, at least. "I understand your concern. But I promise you, what I have in mind won't put our mission at risk. Quite the opposite, in fact. Can you trust me on this?"

Stephanos sighed, clearly not entirely satisfied. "Very well. But be careful, Lucian. We're in dangerous waters here. One wrong move could jeopardize everything."

"I know. I'll be discreet. Give me a day or two to gather what information I can. Then we'll decide how to approach Aristos and Kyra directly."

"Agreed. In the meantime, I'll finish this report to General Brasidas and see what else I can learn from our... colorful host."

As if on cue, Drakon's raucous laughter rang from somewhere in the house, followed by the crash of what sounded like expensive pottery.

Lucian winced. "Maybe you should help the staff wrangle our mentor first before he brings the whole place down around our ears."

Stephanos groaned, rising from his chair. "Sometimes I wonder if the Persians are really our biggest threat."

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As he hurried off to handle the Drakon situation, Lucian slipped out of the room and headed in the opposite direction. He needed some time alone to gather his thoughts and plan his next move.

As he walked down the corridor, the sound of raised voices caught his attention. He recognized one immediately – Mira. Lucian's curiosity got the better of him, and he pressed himself against the wall next to the partially open door, straining to hear the conversation within.

"Mother, I don't understand why you're harboring these... these Spartans!" Mira's voice was filled with contained anger. "Have you forgotten what they've done to me?"

Thais' reply came in measured, calm tones. "My dear, you must look at the bigger picture. These men are here on a mission, one that could have far-reaching consequences for all of Greece."

"I don't care about their mission!" She shot back. "They're our enemies! Lucian may have bested me in combat, but that doesn't mean I trust him or his friends. How can you just let them stay here, eat our food, sleep under our roof?"

Lucian winced at the mention of his name. He and Mira had formed an uneasy truce since their fight, but it was clear her resentment still burned hot.

Thais sighed audibly. "Daughter, in our line of work, we cannot afford to let personal grudges cloud our judgment. The information these men seek could shift the balance of power in ways we cannot ignore."

"So we're just going to help them? Hand over whatever they want and send them on their way?"

"Of course not. We will give them what they need to know, but not everything. Information is power my love. By controlling what they learn, we maintain our advantage."

There was a moment of silence, and Lucian could almost picture Mira fuming, trying to find a counter-argument.

Finally, she spoke again, her voice lower but no less intense. "I still don't like it. Especially that Lucian. There's something... different about him. Something dangerous."

Lucian's breath caught in his throat. Had Mira sensed something of his true nature?

Thais' response was maddeningly cryptic. "You're more right than you know, my dear. But that's precisely why we must keep him close. Watch him. Learn."

"What do you mean?" Mira asked, confusion replacing some of her anger.

"All in due time," Thais said. "For now, I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"

Another pause, longer this time. Then, begrudgingly, "Yes, Mother."

"Good. Now, I believe we have a naked Spartan running amok in our house. Perhaps you could lend a hand in restoring some order?"

"Gross," she groaned. "Fine. But this conversation isn't over."

Lucian heard Mira's footsteps approaching and quickly slipped around the corner, pressing himself against the wall. He held his breath as she passed by, her anger almost palpable in the air. Once she was gone, he let out a sigh of relief.

"You can come out now," Thais' voice called from the room.

Lucian froze, then slowly stepped back into view. Thais stood in the doorway, a knowing smile on her face.

"You... you knew I was there?"

Thais chuckled. "From the moment you stopped to listen, young man. I wasn't called 'The Whisperer' for nothing, you know."

Lucian felt his face flush with embarrassment. "I apologize for eavesdropping. It was wrong of me."

Thais waved her hand. "No need for apologies. In fact, I think it's time we had a little chat. Follow me."

She turned and began walking down the corridor. Lucian hesitated for a moment before falling into step beside her.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"You'll see."

They descended a narrow staircase hidden behind a tapestry, the air growing cooler and damper as they went deeper underground. The silence was soon broken by a distant roar – the sound of a crowd.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, the noise grew louder. Thais pushed open a heavy wooden door, and suddenly they were engulfed in a racket of shouts, cheers, and the clash of metal on metal.

Lucian's eyes widened as he took in the scene before him. They stood on a balcony overlooking a vast underground arena. The circular pit below was ringed with torches, illuminating two fighters locked in fierce combat. Around them, crowds of people cheered and jeered, money changing hands as bets were placed and collected.

"This place again," he said, his voice barely audible over the din.

"Yes, the place where you and my daughter fought."

"I know it’s a fighting pit but why do you have something like this under your house?"

Thais leaned against the railing, her eyes fixed on the fight below. "This, my young friend, is where the real business of Thrace takes place. Not in the markets or the council chambers, but here, in the blood and sweat of the arena."

As they watched, one of the fighters – a large chubby man with a thick beard – landed a crushing blow to his opponent's helmet. The crowd roared its approval.

"Finish him, Nikolas!" a man bellowed from the stands.

"Ten drachmas on the big one!" another shouted, waving a coin purse.

"Is this... legal?" Lucian asked.

Thais laughed. "Legal? You have much to learn about how the world truly works. Here, the only law that matters is the law of strength and power."

The bearded fighter – Nikolas, presumably – knocked his opponent to the ground with a sweeping kick. He raised his sword for the killing blow, but paused, looking to someone in the crowd.

A well-dressed man stood up, his thumb hovering in the air as he considered the fallen fighter's fate. After a moment of tense silence, he turned his thumb downward.

Nikolas didn't hesitate. His sword plunged down, and the crowd erupted in a frenzy of cheers and curses.

Lucian turned away, his stomach churning. "Why have you brought me here?"

"Do you know how I get my information, young Spartan?"

"No, I don't."

A sly smile crept across her face. "I get it from here, in this arena."

"This arena? How? From the fighters?"

Thais chuckled, shaking her head. "No, not from them. Look closer at the crowd." She pointed to a portly man in expensive robes, shouting enthusiastically as he waved a purse of coins. "You see that man there? That's Archelaus, chief advisor to the Thracian king. He has a weakness for betting on the underdogs."

"A royal advisor? Here?"

She nodded, then directed his attention to a severe-looking woman with graying hair. "And there, that's General Myrina. She commands the northern garrison. She only attends when she's worried about troop movements along the border."

"How do you know that?"

"Patterns, my dear. Everyone has them," Thais continued her survey of the crowd. "Ah, and there's Lysander, head of the merchant's guild. He's sharing a drink with... interesting. That's Persus, the Athenian ambassador."

Lucian's head spun as Thais rattled off name after name, pointing out politicians, military leaders, and influential figures from across Greece and beyond. "But why would they come to a place like this?"

"Why does anyone seek out the shadows? To indulge in vices they can't pursue in the light of day. To make deals away from prying eyes. To forget, for a moment, the weight of their responsibilities." She gestured at the arena. "Here, they think they're safe from observation. They let their guards down. They drink, they gamble, they boast and complain. And all the while, I listen."

Lucian watched as a group of men in the stands erupted in laughter, slapping each other on the back and exchanging knowing looks. He realized with a start that he recognized one of them – a minor official from the Spartan delegation he'd seen in passing.

"It's... incredible," he admitted. "But also terrifying. The fate of entire cities, maybe even nations, being influenced by what happens in a secret fighting pit."

Thais nodded. "Now you're beginning to understand. This is the real world of politics and power. Not the grand speeches in the agora or the carefully worded treaties. It's the whispers in the dark, the secrets and vices that can topple empires."

A roar from the crowd drew their attention back to the arena, where a new fight was about to begin.

"Even with all these important figures here, you still didn't hear any word about the Persians. Why is that?"

Thais' expression grew thoughtful. "To be honest, I don't know. It's... unusual. Perhaps the leaders are scared to talk about it."

"Scared?" Lucian turned to her. "Why would they be scared? These are powerful people. Is someone... making them afraid?"

"It's possible. In my line of work, you learn that fear is often the most potent currency." She leaned in closer, lowering her voice. "I have secret agents scattered throughout the crowd, listening to every whisper, every drunken boast. But not one of them has heard a single word about Persian movements or intentions. It's as if the topic has become taboo."

"That can't be a coincidence."

"Indeed," Thais said. "Which is why I found it so intriguing when, a few days ago, one of my agents overheard the names Aristos and Kyra mentioned in connection with some sort of Persian activity."

"The fishmongers you told us about."

"Exactly. It wasn't much, barely more than a whisper really, but in this climate of silence, even that stands out. That's why I passed the information onto you and your companions."

Lucian watched the fights below, but his mind was far away, piecing together this new information. "So whatever's going on with the Persians, it's big enough to scare even these powerful leaders into silence. And somehow, two simple fishmongers are connected to it all."

"It would seem so. The question is, what could be so terrifying that it silences even the most corrupt and ambitious of politicians? And how do Aristos and Kyra fit into it all?"

"I don't know, but I intend to find out."