December 2nd, 1919, San Pedro, Mexico

The sun set as a man led his horse into the town. He appeared ordinary and average, dressed as a cowboy, but carried a saber alongside his revolver. He leaned close to his companion's ears, speaking softly.

"Five Legs, let's head north. Mexico is no different from our home—no peace, no safety. America will be different this time. We won't even need to take a boat. We'll ride the train all the way to El Paso."

Five Legs neighed and nudged the man's chest affectionately.

"I know, I know. I've said it before, but this time it will be different. Trust me. And we'll only ride halfway to El Paso, then take the train for the rest of the journey. Fair?"

Five Legs rested its head atop the man's, expressing agreement.

"Good," the man said, looking up and patting Five Legs' muzzle. He heard the familiar commotion from Maria's Cantina, his stomach grumbling, and his throat parched.

"First, a meal and a drink, my friend. But before that, we can't be rude and not bid farewell to the friends we've made along the way."

Five Legs blew air and eyed the man curiously.

"Don't worry, it won't take long," the man reassured as he tied Five Legs' reins to a post.

The doors of Maria's Cantina swung open, and five heavily armed men stumbled out, leaning on each other for support. Two of them wore bullet belts forming an "x" across their chests. They spoke disdainfully about the war in Sonora.

"The revolution is over!"

"Amigo, keep that to yourself! Unless you want to be executed for treason."

"Treason? Our Lion of the North can't even pay his men! That damned leader owes me at least two months' worth of wages."

"It's true, I haven't been paid for last month either. And I've noticed men deserting. La Revolución is not looking good."

"Very much like home. No pay, and soon the men will resort to pillaging just to survive."

The man quietly thought to himself, "Very much like home indeed," as the disheartened soldiers approached him.

Before the fifth revolutionary could speak, he stopped abruptly in front of Five Legs, causing the others to nearly stumble.

"Hey, Caballero! Your horse is quite handsome. What's its name?"

The man smiled and responded in their native tongue, "His name is Pentepodia. In your language, it would translate to Cinco Patas."

The five revolutionaries exchanged curious glances and gestured to the back of Five Legs. The man's smile widened as they shuffled behind the horse to take a peek.

Laughter filled the air, and the man patted Five Legs affectionately.

"Well, amigos, I hope you have a good night," he said, making his way into the cantina.

Inside, a portly man in his fifties with a balding head immediately noticed him.

"Euandros! My boy, take a seat. The first round is on me," the man, Miguel, exclaimed. Euandros sighed, knowing that Miguel wanted to discuss his daughter, Maria. He had hoped to speak with her before her father did, as Miguel tended to repeat the same talking points, especially when it came to matters of the heart.

"Miguel, I have some business to attend to," Euandros began.

The laughter of the old man echoed through the air, cutting off Euandros mid-sentence.

"I know who you want to speak with! But you have all night to talk to her," the old man exclaimed, provoking laughter from the patrons who overheard. Suddenly, a towel flew from behind the bar and smacked the old man squarely in the face.

"I only speak the truth, mija!" he protested.

"Sometimes the truth need not be shared, especially in public, papa," Maria interjected as she appeared and swiped the towel off her father's head. She glanced at Euandros and blushed.

"Don't distract me again, or else!" she warned, wagging her finger playfully. Miguel raised his hands in resignation but quickly refocused on Euandros. He squinted his eyes and tapped the table, signaling for him to sit. Euandros reluctantly accepted his fate of enduring another lecture.

"Euandros, Five Legs is getting old, and you're not getting any younger yourself," Miguel began, pausing to pour them both a drink.

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"I believe you love my daughter, and I can see how she feels about you. Why travel to America with no skills to offer other than being an old soldier or cowboy? Don't take my daughter away from here. She can live a good life here, an even better one with you if you stay and help. And I can have grandchildren," Miguel said, his voice initially strong but growing quieter toward the end, likely out of fear of what his daughter might think if she overheard his brazen words.

"I understand and hear you, I do. But Mexico... surely you see that Mexico as it is now is no place to raise a family. This war has weakened it, and only chaos will follow," Euandros replied, his grip tightening around his drink as he locked eyes with Miguel, who looked at him with warmth, concern, and worry.

"Chaos is everywhere, mijo. You cannot live life in constant fear. Seize the opportunity and take a chance. It's better than constantly running for safety, only to find yourself alone and old in the end," Miguel advised, his words resonating with Euandros.

Euandros was about to respond when he heard a commotion outside. He rushed out to see five soldiers attempting to steal Five Legs, two of them wielding whips. One of the soldiers lay on his back with a hoof print on his chest, while the others struggled to untie the horse from the post.

Five Legs grew calm when it spotted Euandros, and the thieves turned their attention to him. The largest of the group, with a whip at his side, spread his arms.

"Amigo, apologies, but we need your horse for the revolution. General Villa will repay you for yo—"

Before the soldier could finish his sentence, Euandros quickly unsheathed his gun and pulled the trigger, shooting the man squarely in the forehead. Knowing he was dead, Euandros swiftly targeted the other two thieves who were scrambling to draw their guns.

Three thunderous shots rang out, and three men lay dead, each with a bullet hole in their chest or head. The final thief lay on the ground, groaning in pain, clutching his chest. Five Legs, the loyal horse, stood over him with a raised hoof, a silent threat. Euandros approached the injured man, lifting his hat and revealing a face marked with fear.

"Do you have any last words?" Euandros asked, his voice cold and determined.

The thief managed to utter a plea, "Please... give me an open casket."

Euandros nodded solemnly, taking the man's hat and placing it over his face. With a swift motion, he drew his saber and plunged it into the thief's heart. Blood stained the blade, and Euandros cleaned it with his handkerchief. He then lined up the bodies along the sidewalk, covering each face with its respective hat. Sitting beside the lifeless forms, he found solace in the comforting presence of Five Legs, who rested its head in his lap. He smiled, rubbing the horse's muzzle gently.

"The deaths of these five soldiers, whether deserters or not, must be punished. If no one takes responsibility for their actions, the locals will suffer," Euandros spoke softly, his gaze scanning the whispering townsfolk around him, their pitying eyes a stark reminder of his impending fate. He knew what they were thinking.

Miguel's voice interrupted his thoughts, breaking the silence. "I will take the blame, mijo. The Lion only seeks someone to punish. I have lived my life; now live yours."

Euandros shook his head, understanding the implications. "There are too many witnesses, including an old bartender who has never pulled a trigger. If General Villa were to believe such a story—killing five thieves over a horse—his men would view him with disrespect. Given the state of the war, he cannot afford that."

As he finished speaking, the distant sound of marching men reached his ears. The townsfolk hurriedly retreated into their homes, securing their windows. Euandros gazed at the setting sun on the horizon, a sense of resignation washing over him as thoughts of Maria filled his mind, accompanied by a heavy sigh.

"Please keep Maria inside and protect her," he pleaded, his voice filled with concern. "If my body is to be recovered, ensure that Five Legs is buried beside me."

Miguel approached him, embracing him tightly. "Vaya con dios, mijo," he whispered, before returning to the cantina, leaving behind the sorrowful sound of Maria's sobbing. Tears welled up in Euandros' eyes as General Villa's army entered the town, led by the worn-out figure of the renowned general himself. Euandros couldn't deny the magnificence of the general's mustache, but it failed to conceal the exhaustion etched on his face, mirroring the defeated state of his troops.

The general's weary eyes hardened as they fell upon the fallen bodies of his men. They regarded Euandros with a mixture of anger and respect.

"Why did you not flee, foreigner?" the general's voice, surprisingly soft and gentle, questioned.

Euandros stood tall, his gaze meeting the general's. "The deaths of soldiers must be punished, especially when it occurs in neutral territories like this town. These innocent people should not suffer for my actions," he replied with conviction.

The general nodded, his eyes softening. "A former soldier?" he inquired, nodding toward the saber. "An officer?"

“Officer Euandros Asphalios, Second Cavalry regiment of the Hellenic Army, General.” He said after standing up and saluting.

The General's stern expression softened into a smile. "Why did you kill my men?" he inquired.

"They were attempting to steal my horse, sir," Euandros replied firmly.

"I see. And what is the name of your horse?" the General asked, his curiosity piqued. Euandros couldn't help but smile.

"His name is Pentepodia, which translates to Cinco Patas in your language," he answered. The General and his men glanced at Euandros and then at Five Legs, the proud horse. Laughter erupted from their ranks, recognizing the fitting name.

"For your honesty and bravery, your death shall be swift," the General declared. "As for your horse..."

Euandros held his breath, awaiting the General's decision.

"It is an old warhorse that deserves peace, just like its rider. I give you my word, Euandros of Grecia," the General stated. "Men, bring forward a truck."

As the truck rolled into view, carrying cannons, ammunition, and other supplies, Euandros understood the General's intention. He knew his death would not be prolonged, as his neck would easily snap under the weight of the truck. He lay down before the General, accepting his fate with resolve.

"Do you have any last words, Euandros of Grecia?" the General asked, his voice filled with a mix of respect and sorrow.

"I have lived a life of excellence, embracing Arete," Euandros replied calmly.

The General nodded in understanding, snapping his fingers to set the truck in motion. The wheels began to turn, and Euandros heard Five Legs neighing in defiance. The loyal horse was tied securely to a post, unable to intervene. He had made sure of that. For a brief moment, Euandros felt the weight bear down on his throat, causing intense pain. But it was fleeting, as his neck gave way, plunging him into darkness.