Demi-God

A boot slammed into Stephanos' bed, jolting him awake. "Wake up," Drakon's gruff voice cut through the haze of sleep.

Stephanos blinked, his vision still blurry. "What's up?" he mumbled, pushing himself up on one elbow.

"What do you mean 'what's up'? The boy, he's missing."

"Lucian?" Stephanos yawned and waved a dismissive hand. "He's probably just out wandering the streets again. Don't worry about it."

Drakon leaned against the table, arms crossed over his broad chest. "He's been gone a while now. Longer than usual."

Stephanos sat up, scratching at his sleep-mussed hair. "So what do you want from me?"

"You're the investigator. Investigate. If I had your skills, I'd do it my damn self."

Stephanos sighed. He knew that stubborn set to Drakon's jaw. The man wasn't going to let this go. "Fine. What time is it anyway?"

The old man jerked his chin towards the window, where the black of night still reigned. "Late. Or early, depending how you look at it."

Grumbling under his breath, Stephanos swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Let me get dressed first. Then we'll see if we can track down your wayward slave."

"Make it fast."

Stephanos reached for his leather sandals and fastened them securely. Rising to his feet, he crossed the room to where his armor lay. He lifted the bronze cuirass over his shoulders and adjusted its leather straps. His hands moved to the greaves next, and strapped them onto his shins.

"Ok, I’m done," he said. "Let’s go."

"Let’s go."

The cool night air slapped Stephanos awake as they strode down the empty streets. He couldn't hold back a yawn. "He could be anywhere by now, you know."

"That's why we need to find him. Fast."

"What's the big deal? The kid's a slave. Why are you so worked up about him?"

In a flash, Drakon had him slammed up against the stone wall. His forearm pressed into the Spartan's throat as he leaned in close. "Listen up. Lucian isn't just some piece of property to me. He's more than that. I'm not like other Spartans like you, treating slaves like chattel."

Stephanos held up his hands in surrender, aware of the people stopping to stare at the spectacle they were making. "Okay, okay. Point taken."

Drakon held him there a moment longer before releasing him with a shove.

He straightened his rumpled tunic, trying to regain some semblance of dignity. As they fell back into step, heading towards the city outskirts. He'd always known Drakon was different. But this fierce protectiveness over a slave boy? That was something else entirely. Just what was Lucian to him?

Stephanos shook his head. Those were questions for another time. Right now, they had a kid to find before he got himself into trouble out there. In a city full of people who saw slaves as less than human, a young helot alone in the streets was a lamb among wolves.

Drakon's steps were quick, guided by a newfound sense of urgency that Stephanos had never seen before. They navigated the busy streets, their gazes constantly searching the crowd for the boy until Drakon headed towards a fruit vendor selling figs.

"Have you seen a young boy, about this high?" He gestured with his hand. "Black hair, strong build."

The vendor squinted, wiping sweat from his brow. "Can't say I have," he muttered, turning back to his wares.

Stephanos nudged Drakon, pointing to a group of children playing near a fountain. They strode over, the sound of splashing water growing louder.

"Hey," Stephanos called out, "we're looking for a boy around eigtheen years old. Black hair, looks like he could lift a stone pillar. Have you seen someone like that?"

One of the boys paused, tilting his head. "No, sorry," he said, tossing a pebble into the water. "Maybe you should ask people there." He pointed down a narrow alley.

Drakon nodded and followed the boy's direction. The alley smelled of damp earth and rotting vegetables. A cat darted past, nearly tripping Stephanos.

"Careful," Drakon murmured.

They emerged into a small courtyard where an old woman sat weaving on a wooden loom. The rhythmic clack of her work filled the air.

"Excuse us," Stephanos said gently. "Did you see a teen boy with black hair and strong build pass through here?"

The woman looked up, her eyes sharp despite her age. "No, sorry," she replied without missing a beat in her weaving.

The men exchanged glances and continued walking. They searched from one street to the next, questioning anyone they came across about Lucian. Each time, the answer was the same: no one had seen the boy.

"We're getting nowhere with this," Stephanos threw his hands in the air. "We've been at it for hours and not a single lead."

"Maybe if you took this seriously, we'd have found him by now."

"I am taking this seriously. But we can't just wander aimlessly and expect to stumble upon him."

"If you were half the investigator you claim to be, we wouldn't be in this mess."

He studied the old man's face before replying. "Ok, I have to ask; Why is Lucian so important to you? Why is it that he is so special than other slaves in Sparta?"

For a moment, Drakon said nothing, his gaze distant. Its as if he was collecting his thoughts. Then, with a sigh, he spoke. "I made a promise to his father."

"You knew Lucian's father?"

A nod. "Nicander wasn't just a friend. He was like a brother to me."

Stephanos mulled over this new information, pieces slowly clicking into place. "You fought together?"

"Fought, ate, bled together. He was my best friend. He was there during the hardest days of my life. Nicander has a unique kindness that other Spartans don’t have, maybe that’s the reason why Ianthe loved him so much."

Stephanos hesitated, unsure if he should press further. But curiosity won out. "How did he die?"

Drakon was quiet for so long that he thought the old man might not answer. But then he did.

"He died in my arms. Saved my life in a skirmish when our enemies tried to ambush us. With his last breath, he asked me to watch over his family. To protect them. I gave him my word."

Stephanos looked away, suddenly feeling like an intruder on a private moment. He'd always known there was more to the Wolf than meets the eye, but this? This was a side of him he'd never seen before.

A fierce protectiveness, a loyalty that ran so deep it transcended death itself. In that moment, he understood why finding Lucian meant so much to the old warrior. It wasn't just about keeping a promise. It was about honoring the memory of a fallen brother. About carrying on a legacy entrusted to him.

He placed a hand on Drakon's shoulder, a silent gesture of support, and the old warrior nodded.

"To find Lucian, we have to think like him," Stephanos said, changing the subject.

"And how do we do that? He’s unpredictable."

The Spartan paused, rubbing his chin. Lucian wasn’t like them—no interest in women or wine, more of a stoic figure. Always cautious, always within the bounds of the law. "I think I have an idea."

"What is it?"

Without a word, he motioned for Drakon to follow him.

Moments later, Stephanos led them to the temple of Poseidon. It towered over the street, its marble columns reaching skyward. Statues of Poseidon stood at the entrance, with sea creatures—dolphins, tridents, and horses—adorned the walls, their forms etched in vivid detail. The pillars bore beautiful carvings of waves and storms, capturing the god's dominion over the ocean.

Inside, the floor was a mosaic of blue and green tiles, mimicking the shifting hues of the sea. Priests in flowing robes, their footsteps resounding against the walls. Worshippers knelt before a grand altar where their offerings of shells and pearls glittered in the torchlight.

Stephanos scanned the crowd, looking for any sign of Lucian. But the young man was nowhere to be seen.

"Ok," Drakon said. "I got to ask, why here?"

"What do mean?"

"I mean why here? There’s a lot of temple around. Why here?"

"It’s simple. Because its the nearest."

"That’s it?"

"Think about it, why would he go to a temple so far when he can be here at the nearest and offer prayers to the gods?"

"Yeah, but Lucian is not really a Posiedon type of worshipper."

"You don’t know that."

"So do you."

"Listen," Stephanos raised his hands. "We’ve looked around a large portion near our lodgings, its impossible no one had seen him. The only other area we haven’t looked around is the temple."

"And you think this is the temple that he went?"

"Most likely, yes. It’s the biggest one here and it’s the first structure he will find."

"Ok, whatever. It still doesn’t make sense but let’s get on with this."

"Let's ask around," Stephanos said, moving towards a group of elderly women who were leaving the temple. "Excuse me, ladies. We're looking for a young man, about eighteen years old. Dark hair, lean build. Have you seen anyone matching that description?"

The women shook their heads, murmuring apologies. He thanked them and moved on to the next group.

They asked a few more people, but no one seemed to have seen the boy. Frustration mounted as Stephanos realized that his hunch might have been wrong.

Just as he was about to suggest they try somewhere else, a ragged voice called out from the side.

"I seen 'im. The boy you's lookin' for."

Stephanos and Drakon turned to see a beggar sitting against the temple wall, his thin frame draped in tattered rags. The man's face was weathered and lined, his eyes sharp beneath bushy brows.

Drakon stepped forward and kneeled down. "You saw him? Where did he go?"

The beggar chuckled, a dry, rasping sound. "Now, now. Information like that don't come cheap. You wants to know, you gots to pay."

"You’re shitting me."

"Nope."

"And what makes you think that you have the information that we want?"

He smiled and said, "You want proof? How about this; The boy you’re looking for is strong in stature, muscled guy. Short black hair, wears a slave’s tunic."

"How do you know between a slave’s tunic and a free person’s tunic."

"Hello," he gestured to himself. "I am one."

"You’re a slave?"

"Before, yes. But I got out. Freed myself."

"Doesn’t seem much of a freedom to me," Stephanos quipped, folding his arms.

"It’s not," the beggar said. "But at least I’m not being controlled by a master."

"Why don’t I just beat you up and get the information myself?" Drakon continued.

"You can, but would you risk the only chance you have in saving your friend?"

"He does have a point," Stephanos chimed in.

After a brief moment of contemplation, Drakon responded. "How much?"

"Three drachmas."

"That's too steep. How about one?"

"Two and we have a deal," he countered.

"Ok. Stephanos, pay him."

"What? Me?" He pointed to himself.

"No, the flying cow next to you. Of course you. I don’t have any coin here."

"Fine," Stephanos reached into his pouch and pulled out a few drachmas. He tossed them to the beggar, who caught them with surprising dexterity.

"Now, talk."

The beggar pocketed the coins, his grin revealing a mouth full of yellowed teeth. "I seen the boy, alright. He was here, offerin' to Poseidon. But he didn't stay long. Headed off like he’s trying avoid someone."

"Avoid? Who?"

"I don’t know. He was staring at this young girl from afar."

"Girl? What girl?" Stephanos asked.

"Fierce looking, asking some folks here for information about a boy and an old man."

"A boy and an old man? Wolf," he placed a hand on the old warrior’s shoulder. "Do you know what this man is talking about?"

A brief silence came as Drakon didn’t respond, his expression revealing nothing. He stood up abruptly and walked away, passing by Stephanos without a word. Did he understand the beggar's cryptic words about a boy and an old man? Was the beggar talking about him and Lucian? Stephanos trailed after him, deep in thought.