Demi-God

Drakon pulled Lucian aside. "If you're going to do this, we need a plan."

Lucian bounced on his toes, eyes locked on Stephanos. "What plan?"

"Listen," Drakon leaned in close, his breath hot against the boy’s ear. He tapped the young fighter's shoulder for emphasis. "To beat him, watch his left foot."

Lucian broke his stare, glancing at the old man with confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"When his left foot slams the ground, he's loading up his right fist for a power punch."

"So what do I do?"

"That stomp is your cue. Dodge the incoming attack, push forward, and unleash a barrage. Don't let up."

Lucian's gaze returned to Stephanos, who was busy talking with his family. "You think that'll work?"

"Positive," Drakon nodded. "You can take this guy down. Trust me on this one."

"Got it."

He rolled his shoulders, loosening the tension that had built up. The pain from the earlier beating still throbbed through his body, but it was dulled now by adrenaline.

"So," Stephanos turned as he cracked his knuckles. "Still think you can take me on, boy?"

"You can count on it," Lucian raised his fists, settling into a fighting stance.

"Alright. Let’s see what you’ve got," Stephanos copied his stance.

Carme observed from the sidelines, her earlier concern now mixed with curiosity. She wondered what Drakon had told Lucian, and whether it would be enough to turn the tide of the fight.

The atmosphere grew thick with tension. The onlookers fell silent, sensing that this next round would be decisive.

As the fight resumed, Lucian immediately launched into action. He closed the distance to Stephanos in a heartbeat, unleashing a flurry of punches aimed at breaking through his opponent's guard.

Stephanos, however, remained unfazed. His arms deflected each of Lucian's strikes. "Still relying on the same tactics? You're a slow learner, aren't you?"

But Lucian's assault was merely a prelude. His eyes were sharp and focused, trying to catch the telltale movement of Stephanos' left foot. The Spartan warrior's boot slammed into the ground, just as Drakon had predicted, and began to channel his strength into his right fist, preparing for a devastating blow.

Time seemed to slow for Lucian. He watched as his opponent's right arm tensed, muscles coiling like a spring. The punch came, a blur of motion and raw in power, but Lucian was ready. In a fluid motion, he ducked low, the force of his opponent’s strike whistling over his head.

Whoosh!

"What the?" Stephanos' eyes widened in surprise as his fist met empty air.

For a crucial moment, his stance was broken, his defenses wide open. Lucian seized the opportunity.

Surging forward from his crouched position, he unleashed a barrage of punches into Stephanos' exposed midsection. Each strike landed with devastating force, driving the air from the Spartan's lungs. The rapid-fire assault pushed him back, his usual grace giving way to desperate attempts to regain his footing.

He tried to weave and dodge, to find some respite from the onslaught, but Lucian pressed his advantage like a wolf closing in on its prey. His fists became a blur, targeting the chest, ribs, and solar plexus. The sound of impacts blasted through the courtyard, punctuated by Stephanos' grunts of pain and the gasps until he stumbled back, tripping over his own feet and collapsing to the ground.

Lucian stepped back, his chest heaving with exertion. Sweat glistened on his brow, and his knuckles ached from the impacts.

Drakon rushed forward, his weathered face split by a wide grin and clapped on his apprentice’s shoulder. "Ha! That's the way! You showed him what you're made of!"

Off to the side, Carme stood with her hands clasped over her mouth, shocked. She had not expected such a turnaround from the young fighter.

Stephanos, still catching his breath, straightened up slowly. He winced as he rubbed his chest. "That was a great fight."

"Thank you," Lucian managed between breaths.

Thea hurried over. "Are you alright, Stephanos?" she asked, her hands hovering over the bruises already forming on his torso.

"Don't worry about me, mother. It'll take more than that to keep me down," he assured her, then turned back at the two. "That will be enough for today, I think."

"I should hope so," Drakon chuckled, giving Lucian's shoulder another pat.

Stephanos took a step closer. "What is your name again, boy?"

"Lucian," came the reply.

A look of consideration crossed the Spartan’s face. He extended his hand and said, "I will remember that name."

Lucian reached out and clasped Stephanos' forearm in a firm grip. "Thank you."

"You truly are the apprentice of the Wolf of Sparta."

Drakon grinned. "Well, I wouldn’t say that I’m proud of my apprentice but..."

"You should be. He is one fine warrior," Stephanos rolled his shoulders, wincing at the lingering pain from the fight. He gestured towards the dining hall with a nod. "Come on, let's get back to the food. I'm starving after that workout."

"Couldn't agree more," Drakon chimed in, already heading for the table. "Nothing builds an appetite like a good brawl."

They filed back into the dining hall, the atmosphere noticeably lighter than before. As they settled around the table, conversation flowed more freely, punctuated by the clinking of cups and the tearing of bread.

Thea, nibbling on a piece of flatbread, turned to her son. "Stephanos, how's your work as a tracker going? Any interesting cases lately?"

Lucian paused mid-bite, his brow furrowed. "Tracker? What's that?"

Carme leaned in. "Oh, it's pretty cool actually. My brother hunts down people who've committed crimes. It's more complex than regular soldier work."

"So, like a mercenary?" Lucian asked, reaching for his cup.

Stephanos chuckled, nearly choking on his food. He took a quick swig of wine before responding. "Not quite, kid. It's a bit more official than that. We're not just hired muscles."

Drakon, already on his third cup of wine, cut in. "What Stephanos does is investigate the shit regular soldiers can't handle. It's delicate work, requires brains as well as brawn."

He nodded, swallowing another mouthful. "The old man got the right of it. Speaking of, I've got a new assignment from General Brasidas. I'm supposed to scout for Persian activity in Thrace."

Thea's hand froze halfway to her mouth. "Stephanos! Are you sure you should be sharing that information?"

"It's fine, mother. It's not like anyone here is going to run off and tell the Persians, right?" He glanced around the table with a grin.

Lucian leaned forward, intrigued. "What kind of stuff do you look for? I mean, how do you even start tracking Persians in Thrace?"

"Well," Stephanos began, "it's not just about finding Persian soldiers. We're looking for supply lines, secret camps, local collaborators. It's like putting together a puzzle, but half the pieces are trying to kill you."

Drakon snorted into his cup. "Sounds like a normal day in Sparta to me."

***

Lexi wiped the sweat from her brow as she lugged another heavy bucket of water towards the small stone house. The midday sun beat down on the dusty path. As she approached, she could see her mother bent over in the nearby field, her weathered hands working tirelessly to tend the crops.

"Mother, I've brought more water," Lexi called out, setting the bucket down with a grunt.

Ianthe straightened, pressing a hand to her lower back. "Thank you. Can you check on the sheep next? I worry they've wandered too far."

Lexi nodded, already moving towards the grazing area. "I'm on it. Don't work too hard. You promised to teach me that new weaving pattern later."

"We'll see," Ianthe replied with a smile. "There's always more to be done."

As Lexi rounded up the few sheep that had strayed, her mind wandered to her brother. He'd been gone for hours now with Drakon. She always worried when Lucian went off with that man. He’s notorious for getting himself in trouble and Lucian getting the old man out of trouble. How she wished her brother would stay away from him, all that old fart ever does is drink and creep on all the women he sees.

"Lexi," Ianthe handed her daughter a wooden bucket. "The pigs need feeding, and go tend to the chickens when you’re done. After that, there's wheat to be harvested."

She nodded, taking the bucket and heading outside. She made her way to the pig pen, where the animals grunted and squealed when she brought them their meal.

As Lexi poured the slop into their trough, her mother joined her, carrying another bucket. "How are they looking?" she asked, peering at the pigs.

"Fat enough," Lexi replied. "Though I doubt we'll see much of the meat when they're slaughtered. They’ll just get half of what we make."

"You know better than to speak of such things. Be grateful for what we're allowed."

Lexi bit her tongue, knowing her mother was right. Complaining would only bring trouble. Instead, she changed the subject. "The sow looks ready to farrow soon. Should we tell the overseer?"

"I'll mention it when he comes by," Ianthe said. "For now, let's move on to the chickens."

They made their way to the coop, where the hens clucked and pecked at the ground. Lexi scattered feed while her mother collected eggs, placing them carefully in a basket.

"How many today?" Lexi asked.

"Three dozen. A good haul. Maybe they'll let us keep one or two."

"Fat chance. You know the Spartans take the best of everything."

"Lexi," her mother warned, "watch your tongue. The walls have ears."

"Sorry," she muttered, though she wasn't.

She hated the injustice of their lives, but she knew better than to voice her thoughts too loudly.

With the animals tended to, they moved on to the wheat field. The golden stalks swayed in the afternoon breeze, ready for harvest. Lexi grabbed a sickle and began to cut.

"Remember to bundle them tightly," Ianthe instructed, working alongside her daughter. "We don't want to lose any grains."

Lexi nodded, sweat already beginning to bead on her brow. "Do you think we'll finish before the end of the day?" she asked, glancing at the expanse of field before them.

Ianthe shook her head. "Not likely. But if we work hard, we might get most of it done before the worst heat comes."

They worked in silence for a while, the rhythmic swish of their sickles the only sound. Lexi's back began to ache, and she straightened for a moment, stretching.

"Keep at it," Ianthe urged. "We need to make double remember?"

"I know."

"Speaking of, we need water. Can you please go back to the house and fetch some?"

"How much should I bring?"

"Enough for both of us. And be quick about it. We can't afford to lose much time."

"Sure."

Returning to the house, Lexi froze as she saw a man she'd never seen before was crouched near the corner of their dwelling, seemingly fascinated by a pile of rocks on his hand. He was tall and fair-skinned, with hair the color of wheat fields. His clothing marked him as someone of means – certainly not one of the slaves who lived and worked alongside their family.

"Who are you?" Lexi blurted out, unable to contain her curiosity any longer.

The man looked up, startled. His lips curved into a smile as he rose to his full height, brushing dust from his expensive-looking toga. "Well, hello there, little one."

"Hello. Again, who are you?"

"Oh, where are my manners. My name is Linus. And you are?"

"I'm Lexi. This is my family's house. Why are you here?"

Linus chuckled, amused by her directness. "I'm looking for someone. Is your brother around, by any chance?"

"My brother?" Lexi's suspicion grew. "What do you want with Lucian?"

"Oh, just a bit of business to discuss."

"What kind of business?" Lexi pressed, crossing her arms.

"The kind of business that little girls shouldn't concern themselves with, I'm afraid."

Before Lexi could retort, a familiar voice called out from behind her. "Lexi? What’s taking you—" Ianthe's words died in her throat as she caught sight of Linus.

The man bowed and said, "Ah, you must be Lucian's mother. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Lexi scurried behind her mother, peering out. Ianthe returned the bow, her face a mask of politeness that didn't quite hide her unease. "I am. What business do you have with my son?"

"Nothing that can't wait, it seems," Linus replied, his gaze flicking between mother and daughter.

"Mother, he’s looking for Lucian," Lexi chimed in. "He won't say why."

"I see. May I ask what business is that?"

"I’m afraid that I can only say that to Lucian himself."

"Well, he’s not here at the moment. You may return at a later time if you wish to speak with him."

"Is that so? I had hoped to catch him, but another time will do. My apologies for disturbing you."

"It’s no trouble really, my lord."

With another slight bow, Linus turned and walked away, his sandals kicking up small clouds of dust. Lexi tugged at her mother's skirt. "Mother, who was that man? What does he want with Lucian?"

Ianthe's brow furrowed as she watched Linus's retreating form. "I don't know. But I have a feeling we haven't seen the last of him."