Mira took another bite of her food before asking, "So, why are you here?"

"I've already told you-"

"Don't bother lying," she interrupted. "I have a sixth sense for detecting bullshit."

Lucian held her gaze for a moment before finally admitting, "Fine. I killed someone. I thought going to the festival will take my mind off of what I did."

She paused, skewer halfway to her mouth. "You're joking."

"I wish I was," Lucian said, his eyes locked on the wrestlers. "It was an accident."

"No shit. So how’d that happen?"

"I got cornered. I was separated from Stephanos when we where escaping from Aristos’ warehouse. Two of his guards ran after me."

"And?"

"I had no choice and fought them."

Mira raised her hand. "Woah, hold on there. You fought two fully armored units with spears and shield all by yourself and survived?"

"Uhm, yeah."

"That’s actually badass," she said. "How’d you manage that?"

"I honestly don't know," Lucian shrugged. "Desperation, I guess. I just reacted. I disabled the first guy, stole his spear then threw it on the second guy and hit him in his eye."

"By Zeus, that’s something you don’t hear everyday," Mira replied. "So what happened after that?"

"I ran. I ran as far and as fast as I could. Didn’t stop until I reached Thais’ house."

As the wrestling match concluded, the crowd erupted in thunderous applause. The victor stood triumphant, arms raised high, while his opponent lay panting on the ground. The spectators' cheers echoed through the makeshift arena, drowning out all other sounds for a moment.

Amidst the noise and excitement, Mira turned back to Lucian. "I don't see the problem here. Killing people is just part of life, especially in our line of work."

"I know that, but that's not what I'm worried about."

"Then what is it?" Mira’s brow furrowed in confusion.

Lucian sighed, his shoulders slumping. "How do you get over this? I mean, that man's dead face still haunts me in my dreams."

Mira's expression softened. She placed a hand on his shoulder. "It will pass. The first one is always the hardest, but it gets easier with time. You learn to compartmentalize, to separate what you have to do from who you are."

"Does it really?" Lucian asked. He hesitated for a moment before asking, "Have you... have you killed before?"

"Yes," she nodded. "When there was no choice. It's part of being a bandit. Sometimes it's us or them, and I always choose us."

Lucian gaze drifted back to the wrestling arena where preparations for the next match were underway. Mira's words filled in his head, her casual acceptance of killing gnawing at him. He knew the risks that came with their lifestyle, the potential for violence always lurking just beneath the surface. But hearing her speak so calmly about taking a life left him unsettled.

He glanced at his friend, studying her profile as she watched the wrestlers grapple. How many lives had she taken? The question burned in his throat, but he couldn't bring himself to ask. Maybe it was better not to know.

He'd been in plenty of fights, sure. Broken noses, cracked ribs, even knocked a few teeth loose. But killing? That was different. The guard's face, frozen in that final moment of shock and pain, haunted him. It wasn't just the act itself, but the finality of it. There was no coming back from death, no chance for redemption or change.

The crowd around them cheered as one wrestler pinned another, but Lucian barely noticed. He was lost in thought. Was this what awaited him if he continued down this path? Would he one day be able to shrug off a death as just another occupational hazard?

He watched as the victorious wrestler helped his opponent to his feet, the two men embracing in a show of sportsmanship. Here, in the arena, there were rules, limits, a shared understanding of what was acceptable. But out there, in the dark alleys and shadowy corners of the city, those rules didn't apply. It’s either be kill or be killed. Survive or die. There is no two ways about it.

As he watched the next pair of wrestlers take their positions, he found himself studying their movements with a new perspective. Every grapple, every throw, every hold suddenly seemed loaded with potential danger. In another context, these same moves could be lethal.

The crowd's roar washed over him, but he felt oddly detached from it all. The festival, with its games and celebrations, seemed almost frivolous in light of the conversation he'd just had. How many in this crowd had blood on their hands? How many carried the weight of a life taken?

He looked back at Mira, who was still engrossed in the match. Her enthusiasm for the sport was genuine, her eyes alight with excitement as she followed the wrestlers' movements. It was hard to reconcile this version of her with the one who spoke so casually about killing.

He took a deep breath, trying to center himself. Dwelling on these thoughts wouldn't change anything. The guard was dead, and no amount of soul-searching would bring him back. But the question remained: how did one learn to live with such actions? How did Mira manage to separate the person she was from the things she had to do?

As the match before them reached its climax, Lucian found himself no closer to answers. The cheers of the crowd, the grunts of the wrestlers, the heat of the sun – it all blended into a sensation that failed to drown out the turmoil in his mind.

"Hey," Mira called out, touching his arm, her voice breaking through his reverie. "You've been quiet since we talked earlier. Are you okay?"

"Huh? Uhm, yeah."

"Are you still on about that killing thing?"

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

"Aaa..well...kinda," Lucian admitted, his gaze falling back to the dirt floor of the arena, tracing the marks left by the wrestlers' boots. "It’s just...hard to shake off."

Mira’s expression softened and leaned in closer. "Come on," she said, pulling him by the arm towards the exit of the arena. "Let's get some fresh air, it might help clear your head."

"I don’t know if that would..."

"Oh, hush now," she interrupted with a playful jab to his side. "You're thinking too much. Sometimes, you just need to step back and breathe. The world isn’t as dark and heavy as it feels in this moment. Do you want to watch the Mousikos agon?"

"Uhm, ok."

"Great! Then, let's head towards the music pavilion. It's a good distraction and, who knows, maybe a bit of melody will untangle some of those knots in your head."

"I guess so."

"And afterwards, we can grab some honeycakes from the market. Come on, distract yourself a little."

"Just so I understand this, you’re buying right?"

Mira chuckled. "Oh, darling, no. All of this is in your drachma."

"Are you kidding me?"

"Nope, so shut up and enjoy the music. You need it more than you think."

They made their way through the crowded streets, weaving between groups of festivalgoers. The sun had begun its descent, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. As they walked, the distant sound of music grew louder, drawing them towards the music pavilion.

"You know," Lucian said, dodging a group of excited children running past, "I'm not sure music is going to solve anything."

Mira rolled her eyes. "It's not about solving anything. It's about giving your brain a break from all that heavy thinking. Trust me, it helps."

They turned a corner, and the music pavilion came into view. A temporary structure had been erected, draped in colorful fabrics that fluttered in the evening breeze. A small crowd had already gathered, sitting on makeshift benches and standing around the edges.

As they approached, the melodious strains of a lyre filled the air, accompanied by the clear voice of a singer. The music was soothing and ethereal, the lyrics telling tales of ancient heroes and faraway lands. Lucian felt a gradual easing of the tension that had knotted his shoulders. They found a spot near the back, where they could see over the heads of those seated.

"See?" Mira said, gesturing towards the performance. "Isn't this nice?"

"I guess," Lucian shrugged.

At the center of the stage stood a young woman, her dark hair adorned with a wreath of laurel leaves. Her chiton, a deep blue fabric that shimmered in the fading sunlight, flowed around her as she moved. To her left, a man with calloused fingers plucked at the strings of a lyre. On her right, another musician cradled an aulos, the double-reed instrument poised at his lips.

As the first notes filled the air, the crowd fell silent. The lyre player's fingers danced across the strings, creating a delicate melody that seemed to float on the evening breeze. The aulos joined in, its haunting tones weaving through the lyre's music, adding depth and complexity to the sound.

Then the singer opened her mouth, and her voice soared. Clear and beautiful, it carried across the pavilion, drawing everyone in. She sang of Odysseus and his long journey home, of the trials he faced and the monsters he encountered. Her voice swelled with emotion as she described the hero's longing for his homeland and his beloved Penelope.

The audience was transfixed. Children who had been fidgeting moments before now sat still. Adults leaned forward, caught up in the tale being woven before them. Even those who had heard the story countless times before found themselves captivated by the singer's performance.

As the song progressed, the musicians' movements became more animated. The lyre player's head bobbed in time with the music, his fingers flying across the strings with increasing speed. The aulos player swayed slightly, his cheeks puffed out as he blew into the instrument. And the singer, her arms raised, seemed to embody the very spirit of the music.

The melody shifted, becoming more urgent as the song reached its climax. The singer's voice rose in pitch, recounting Odysseus' final battle against the suitors who had invaded his home. The lyre's strings thrummed with intensity, and the aulos' notes became sharp and staccato, mirroring the clash of swords described in the lyrics.

Then, as suddenly as it had built up, the music softened. The singer's voice grew gentle as she sang of Odysseus' reunion with Penelope, the lyre and aulos providing a sweet, tender accompaniment. As the final notes faded away, a hush fell over the crowd.

For a moment, no one moved. It was as if they were all collectively holding their breath, still caught in the spell of the music. Then, slowly, people began to stir. Murmurs of appreciation rippled through the audience, growing louder as the performers bowed.

Lucian found himself blinking, as if waking from a dream. He hadn't realized how tense he'd been until he felt his muscles relax. The weight of his earlier thoughts, the guilt and uncertainty that had been plaguing him, seemed to have receded, at least for the moment. He glanced at Mira, seeing his own sense of awe reflected in her face.

As the crowd began to applaud, Lucian joined in, his hands coming together almost of their own accord. The music had transported him, if only briefly, to another world – one where his troubles seemed distant and manageable. He couldn't help but smile, realizing that maybe Mira had been right after all. Sometimes, a little distraction was exactly what you needed.

"So," she continued, her eyes on the performers, "you want to talk about it some more?"

"About what?"

"Don't play dumb. About the killing thing."

Lucian sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know. What is there to say? I killed a man. It's done."

"Yeah, but it's clearly eating at you. Look, I get it. The first time is always rough. But you can't let it consume you."

"Easy for you to say."

Mira turned to face him. "You think it was easy for me? The first time I killed someone, I couldn't sleep for weeks. I kept seeing their face every time I closed my eyes."

"But how did you get over it?"

"Time, mostly. And realizing that in our line of work, sometimes it's kill or be killed. It doesn't make it right, but it's the reality we live in."

Lucian nodded, his gaze drifting back to the musicians. A new song had started, something upbeat that had the crowd clapping along.

"I just... I keep thinking about his family, you know?" He said after a moment. "Did he have kids? A wife? Parents waiting for him to come home?"

Mira placed a hand on his shoulder. "That's a dangerous road to go down. You'll drive yourself crazy thinking like that."

"So what, I'm just supposed to forget about it?"

"No, not forget. But accept it. Learn from it. And move on. There is nothing you can do about it."

They fell silent for a while, letting the music wash over them. The singer's voice soared, telling a story of love and loss that seemed to resonate with the crowd.

"You know," Mira said eventually, "my father once told me something that stuck with me. He said, 'In this life, we all have blood on our hands. The trick is learning to live with it without letting it stain your soul.'"

"Your father said that? I thought you were an orphan?"

Mira laughed. "I lied about that too."

"How do I know you’re not lying about this one?"

"You don’t."

"That’s comforting."

"Do you want me to continue?"

Lucian sighed and leaned back. "Sure. Why not."

"Ok, people have their own battles, their own moral quandaries. The point is, we all do things we're not proud of. The key is to not let those things define us."

"I'm not sure I know how to do that."

"Nobody does, at first. It takes practice. And time. Listen, I’m not justifying what you did was right, but your instincts reacted in defense."

As the current song ended, the crowd erupted in applause again. Lucian found himself clapping along, surprised to realize he'd actually been enjoying the event.

"Come on," Mira said, tugging at his arm. "Let's go get those honeycakes I promised you. I think we both could use something sweet after all this heavy talk."

"I guess so. I mean, it’s my money we’re going to use."

"Yes, it is," she agreed with a mischievous wink. "But consider it a small price for significant insights. And hey, maybe I'll even share the recipe with you if they're good enough."

They navigated through the crowd, which seemed to thicken with every step, their bodies pressed together momentarily as they sidestepped a laughing group of dancers.

"Hey," he said as they approached a stall selling an array of sweet treats, "thanks for this. For listening, and for the advice."

Mira smiled, reaching out to ruffle his hair. "That's what friends are for, you idiot. Now, let's see how many honeycakes we can buy with your money."

Lucian groaned, but he couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips. As they haggled with the vendor over the price of the cakes, he felt a sense of normalcy returning. The world hadn't ended. Life went on.