Demi-God

Lucian grunted as he dragged the limp, snoring bodies of Stephanos and Drakon into their cramped lodgings. Their drunken stupor had hit at the worst possible time.

"Useless sacks of shit," he muttered, dropping them on the straw pallets. "We had one job - get the damn box. But no, you fools decided to drink yourselves into oblivion the night before."

He stood over them, anger and disappointment twisting his scarred face. Stephanos let out a particularly loud snore, drool trickling from the corner of his mouth.

Lucian scoffed in disgust.

"Looks like I'm on my own for this one." He ran a hand through his dark hair, mind racing. "The merchant arrives at midday by the eastern gate. I have to intercept him and get that box, no matter what."

But how? He was just one man, and couldn't risk an open confrontation. Lucian paced the small room, boots scuffing the dirt floor. There had to be a way.

Then it hit him like a bolt of Zeus' lightning. His abilities - the power to transfer his consciousness into animals. An idea began to take shape.

"That's it," he exclaimed. "I'll possess an animal, something small and quick. Sneak right up to the merchant and snatch the box before he even knows what happened."

But which creature to choose? He moved to the open doorway, scanning the bustling streets. Dogs, cats, pigeons...too conspicuous. He needed something unremarkable, easily overlooked.

As if in answer, Lucian's gaze landed on a scruffy sheep dog skulking by a fetid pig pen across the way. The mongrel was sniffing for scraps, matted tail tucked between its legs. Ordinary, agile, able to slip through crowds and dash off in a heartbeat. Perfect.

A slow smile spread across his face.

"Looks like I found my ride," Lucian stepped out into the sunlight, a man on a mission. "Time to get up close and personal with my new four-legged friend. This merchant won't know what hit him."

With newfound purpose, he wove through the throngs of people, sights set on the unsuspecting dog. One touch, that's all it would take. Then the real challenge would begin.

Lucian approached the pig pen, the pungent odor of manure and unwashed bodies assaulting his nostrils. The enclosure was sizable, housing a dozen or so swine wallowing in filth. Chickens clucked and pecked in a nearby coop, their feathers ruffled in the midday heat.

The dog crept along the pen's perimeter, nose to the ground, ragged ears twitching at the din of grunts and squawks. Its owner, a portly man with a sweat-slicked brow, shoveled slop into the trough, oblivious to the boy’s presence.

Seizing the moment, Lucian edged closer, arm outstretched, fingers poised to graze the dog's matted fur. Just a little further.

Suddenly, the owner straightened, nearly catching Lucian in his peripheral vision. He froze, heart hammering against his ribcage. Damn, that was close.

The dog, startled by its master's movement, skittered to the far side of the pen, well out of reach. Lucian cursed under his breath. He couldn't risk drawing more attention to himself. Patience, he needed patience.

He shadowed the dog and its owner as they meandered back towards a ramshackle house. This was his chance. Just a few steps more, and...

The dog paused, sniffing at a clump of weeds. Lucian lunged, fingers grazing its coat. But in that split second, time seemed to slow, the world blurring at the edges. The dog darted forward, and a chicken fluttered down in its place, right beneath his outstretched hand.

Before he could pull back, Lucian felt a jolt, a dizzying wrench behind his eyes. Consciousness slammed into a foreign form, smaller, lighter. Feathers, not fur, beneath his touch.

"What the..." His voice emerged as a strangled squawk.

He stared down at scaly, clawed feet, at russet wings tipped in white. Oh, hell no. This could not be happening.

A chicken. He was a gods-forsaken chicken! So much for stealth and agility. Lucian let out a string of curses that sounded like agitated clucks to any passerby.

He had to make this work, somehow. The box, the mission - it all hung in the balance. Taking an unsteady step, Lucian tried to adjust to this new body, this new perspective. One thing was certain: he had his work cut out for him.

The sun hung high overhead, time was slipping away. Lucian ruffled his feathers, resigning himself to this absurd twist of fate. He had to reach the eastern gate, and fast.

With an awkward, waddling gait, Lucian hurried through the streets. People stepped around him, barely sparing a glance for the wayward chicken in their midst. Small mercies, at least. No one would think twice about his human body, likely assuming he was just another drunk sleeping it off.

Lucian dodged stamping feet and rolling cart wheels. The eastern gate loomed ahead, tantalizingly close. Just a bit farther.

A shadow fell across Lucian's path. He looked up to see a bald, dirt-streaked man leering down at him, tongue swiping across cracked lips. Hunger gleamed in the man's sunken eyes - the kind of hunger that saw him as nothing more than a scrawny meal.

"That’s not a good look," he thought.

The man bolted forward, his legs pumping, hands outstretched, trying to grab Lucian.

"Not today, you don't," he muttered, sidestepping the reaching hands.

But the beggar was persistent, lumbering after him with single-minded intent.

"That was close," Lucian thought as he kept running. "I have to lose this asshole or I’ll be toast."

He darted between legs and under stalls, his pursuer never far behind. The chase wound through the crowded marketplace, eliciting curses and startled yelps. If he could just find an opening.

But luck, it seemed, had other plans. Lucian found himself cornered against a wall, the beggar's shadow looming over him. Rough hands seized him, lifting him up to eye level.

"Gotcha, you little morsel," the man cackled. "You'll make a fine dinner tonight."

Panic surged through Lucian, and he lashed out with his beak, aiming for the man's eyes. "Take this, you ugly looking ass."

POING!

"Ouch! You fucking piece of—!" The beggar howled, dropping Lucian as he clutched at his face. Blood welled between his fingers. "I’ll get you for this you stupid fucking chicken!"

Lucian didn't hesitate. He hit the ground running, ignoring the burn in his unfamiliar muscles. The gate was closed now, the merchant's cart just beyond. He had to make it. Failure was not an option.

He weaved through the throng of people, his keen eyes scanning the crowd for the merchant described by the hooded man. The main road leading to the agora was packed with travelers, merchants, and locals going about their daily business. Lucian's small chicken form allowed him to navigate the sea of legs with relative ease, though he had to be careful not to get stepped on.

He spotted a wooden crate near a stall and hopped onto it, using the vantage point to survey the area. His gaze fell upon a cart pulled by two brown mules, a red canopy shielding its occupants from the sun. The merchant, a man in his forties with a thick, graying beard, wore a deep blue chiton with intricate gold embroidery. A golden brooch in the shape of a lion's head secured a matching himation at his right shoulder.

"That's him," he confirmed, recalling the detailed description provided by his informant.

He leaped down from the crate and made his way towards the cart, weaving through the crowd.

As he approached, Lucian realized the first challenge he faced: getting inside without being noticed. He circled the vehicle, searching for an opening. The merchant's wife, a woman with elegant features and dark, braided hair, sat beside her husband, engaged in conversation.

Seizing his chance, Lucian darted forward and hopped into the back of the cart when the couple's attention was elsewhere. He found himself surrounded by an assortment of goods - bolts of colorful fabric, clay pots, and beautifully carved wooden figurines. The box, he knew, would be hidden beneath the merchant's seat.

Lucian crept forward, keeping low to avoid detection. As he neared the front of the cart, the merchant's wife let out a startled gasp. "By the gods, a chicken!"

The merchant turned, his eyes widening at the sight of the animal. "How did that get in here?"

"I don’t know. Should we shoo it away?"

"Nonsense. It’s just a harmless old chicken."

He reached out and scooped Lucian up before he could evade the man's grasp.

The merchant studied him for a moment, then chuckled. "Poor thing must've gotten lost." He began to stroke it’s back. "I wonder where its owner is."

"He must be irresponsible to have let his chicken run away."

"Could be, or he’s too busy that he didn’t see this one. Look at him. He’s magnificent."

"Are you going to keep him?"

"Of course I am."

"You’re going to turn it into food right?"

"I don’t know. Maybe. We’ll see."

Lucian forced himself to remain still. How was he going to get the box now? The merchant had him trapped, and even if he managed to break free, his current form lacked the strength to retrieve the item. He needed a new plan, and fast.

The merchant settled back into his seat, the chicken cradled in his lap. "You won't believe the crowds at the temple of Athena," he said to his wife. "I've never seen so many people gathered in one place."

She nodded. "And the offerings! Did you see the gold and silver piled at the altar? It was enough to make even the wealthiest man envious."

They continued to chat, recounting the various sights and experiences of their journey. Lucian listened, hoping to glean any information that might aid him in his quest. The merchant spoke of the different cities they'd passed through, the exotic goods they'd traded, and the colorful characters they'd encountered along the way.

"By the way, where did you get that box?" She asked.

"Oh, that? I bought it from this strange old man I met at the port market in Corinth. He claimed it contained a rare artifact that would bring great prosperity to its owner, though he refused to show me what’s inside. I must confess, I was intrigued, so I paid his asking price."

"And you believe him?"

"Why not?"

"Maybe he’s saying that to sell you something, ever think of that?"

"It’s just a one time purchase. Besides, it’s not like it's expensive."

"Why? How many drachmas did he ask for?"

"Around three."

"Three? That’s it? Now, I know that box is fake."

"You don’t know that."

"If that seller is selling that to you at that low of a price, no doubt that item must be fake."

"What if it’s not?"

Just as the merchant was launching into another tale, the cart jerked to a sudden stop. Lucian nearly tumbled from the merchant's lap, but the man's quick reflexes kept him in place.

"What's going on?" He called out the driver. "Why did we stop?"

"Thracian soldiers, my lord."

"Soldiers?"

A gruff voice responded from outside the cart. "We’re here for an inspection."

The merchant craned his neck to catch a glimpse of the soldier. "Wait, inspection? Of what?"

"We've received reports of illegal goods being transported through the area, and your cart fits the description that was given to us."

"Illegal goods? I assure you, everything here is legitimate. I have the paperwork to prove it."

"Then you wouldn't mind if we take a look."

"Uh…uhm…sure," he stammered.

Lucian heard the soldiers begin to rummage through the cart's contents. This was it. If they found the box, his chance to retrieve it would be lost. He had to act now.

The soldier nearest the front of the cart reached beneath the merchant's seat and withdrew the box. "What's this?" he asked, turning it over in his hands.

"That? It's just a family heirloom. Nothing more."

The soldier arched an eyebrow. "You wouldn't mind if I opened it, would you?"

The merchant hesitated, his grip on Lucian tightening. "I suppose not."

As the soldier lifted the lid, Lucian caught a glimpse of the box's contents. There, nestled among a bed of silk, was a golden key. The very key he'd been sent to retrieve.

Before anyone could react, Lucian burst into motion and leapt from the man's lap, his beak striking his face with enough force to stun him. The merchant cried out, his hands flying to his bloodied nose.

"Ouch! Son of a—!"

Lucian darted across the cart, his tiny claws scrabbling against the polished wood. He snatched the key from the box, clutching it tightly in his beak.

"What the fuck? Get that chicken!" The soldier shouted, his hands grasping for the animal, but Lucian was too quick.

With a final desperate leap, he launched himself from the cart and hit the ground running, his legs pumping furiously beneath him. The shouts of the soldiers and the merchant faded behind him as he raced through the crowded streets, disappearing.