Atlas sat at his desk in the quiet of the hall, the faint scratching of quills from the scribes outside fading into silence. At nineteen, The boy had long since grown into a man—broad-shouldered, his arms corded with lean muscle earned through years of training and labor. His face bore sharper lines, yet his eyes still held that calm steadiness that gave the children hope. In his hand, he flipped through scrolls detailing accounts of their farms, shipments of wine, and the growth of their trade networks.
Scrolls were spread across the desk—records of shipments, earnings, and debts owed. He had been poring over them when a child burst in, dusty from running.
"A letter," the boy said breathlessly, holding it out with both hands.
Atlas accepted it, arching a brow. "From who?"
"One of the wanderers," the boy replied. "Said it was urgent."
"Well done. Go on now—rest." Atlas smiled softening, already reaching for a small wooden jar on the desk. "Wait. Before you go." He produced a pouch, loosening the tie to reveal small, colorful candies he'd made during rare idle moments. The sweet smell filled the air.
The boy's mouth fell open. "Is that… candy?"
Atlas chuckled, handing the pouch over. "Made them myself. Share them with everyone in camp. No exceptions. Or I'll know." He wagged a finger playfully.
The boy snatched the pouch, hugging it to his chest, and nodded so fast it looked painful. "Yes, Brother Atlas! I'll share, I swear!" Then he bolted out the door, feet slapping the ground, already shouting, "Candy! Brother Atlas gave us candy!"
Atlas chuckled, shaking his head. Simple joys… But when he broke the wax seal of the letter, and saw what was written inside, his expression hardened. The words inside turned his smile to stone.
He called for the scouts outside. "Fetch Alexios, Eryx, Phaedra, Lukas, Thea, Nikandros, Kyra, and Leonidas. Now."
Within the hour, his closest companions filed into the room, each one changed by the years.
Alexios was the first through the door, grinning as always, spear slung casually across his back. "So serious, Atlas. Did someone short us on wine again?"
"Shut up, Alexios," Thea muttered, rolling her eyes. She lingered near her brother Lukas, though her gaze often strayed toward Alexios.
Lukas gave her a knowing look but said nothing, folding his massive arms across his chest.
Lukas and Thea, the siblings, had once been orphans clinging to survival. Now they stood taller, prouder. They had visited the graves they had built for their parents long ago, laying flowers and finally finding closure. Thea's eyes, though, often strayed toward Alexios when she thought no one was watching.
Eryx and Phaedra entered together, dressed finer than most—tokens of their wealthy family. Phaedra arched her brow. "We were in the middle of writing to our parents, Atlas. This had better be important."
Eryx and Phaedra carried themselves with newfound confidence. They had found their wealthy family, but despite their parents' desperate pleas, they chose to stay at the camp. Their family supported them now, reluctantly, sending coins and connections as long as they visited once a month.
Nikandros trailed them behind the, over the years he discovered that he was a son of a rich merchant in Athens, had returned with knowledge of the bustling city. He often brought news of trade, politics, and rumors of war. already talking. "If this is about trade routes again, I have news from Athens. We've doubled our contacts—"
"Not now," Atlas interrupted firmly.
Then came Kyra who just got back from finding her family. She looked different from the quiet, withdrawn girl of years past. Her shoulders carried new weight, and not just metaphorical—two smaller shadows clung to her sides.
Atlas's gaze softened. "Are they your?"
Kyra nodded, resting a hand on the boy's head. "These are my siblings. I… found them after my parents died."
The room grew quiet.
Kyra explained, voice steady though her eyes glistened. "I found my family too late. My mother and father… they died of illness months before I arrived. But they left behind these two." She gently pushed the children forward. The boy, around seven, was thin as a reed, clutching his sister protectively. The girl, barely three, peeked shyly from behind her brother's tunic.
"When I found them, the boy was trying to feed his sister scraps he scavenged from the city. He hadn't eaten in days, but he gave her everything." Kyra's voice faltered for a heartbeat. "I couldn't leave them. They're family now. My responsibility."
The boy looked up with sharp, wary eyes and said, "Kyra is our sister. We're staying with her." The little girl nodded, clutching Kyra's cloak tightly.
Alexios rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Well… looks like our family just grew bigger."
Thea smiled softly. "They'll be safe here."
Atlas nodded firmly. "They will be raised as part of us, Kyra. No one in this camp is alone anymore."
Kyra dipped her head in thanks, her hand never leaving her siblings' shoulders. The two children clung to her all the tighter, as though afraid she'd vanish too.
After some time, finally, Leonidas spoke, chin high. "Well? What's so urgent that you call us urgently?"
Finally Leonidas, who bore the name of Sparta's king, had reunited with his family—warriors devoted to King Leonidas himself. It was he who revealed to Alexios that his father was the Spartan general Nikolaos. Alexios never forgave Nikolaos for standing silent when he and Kassandra were cast from Mount Taygetos. Still, the truth burned inside him, and he often teased Leonidas relentlessly.
Atlas lifted the letter. "This comes from one of our wandering brothers. Listen carefully."
The room fell silent.
"There is war on the horizon. Sparta and Athens—Megaris will be the battlefield. I felt something strange about this war, so I did some investigation, and what I found out is that the cult was behind this…" His voice tightened. "The Cult is supplying both sides. Arms, food, information. They are controlling the war from the shadows."
A murmur spread through the group.
Alexios slammed his fist on the table. "Then we kill them. Now."
Nikandros raised his hand. "Wait. If we all march off chasing war, who guards the camp? Who protects the children? The farms? The trade?"
Phaedra crossed her arms. "He's right. We have responsibilities now."
Thea spoke softly but firmly. "Then we divide. Some of us strike, some of us stay."
Atlas nodded. "Agreed. But there's more. The supplier—the one moving the Cult's resources. He's leaving for Kephallonia. As for why, I don't know. But if we strike him there, we can cut off one of the Cult's hands before this war consumes Greece."
Lukas cracked his knuckles. "So we hunt him down. Simple enough."
Kyra's eyes narrowed. "Simple? Nothing with the Cult is ever simple. If he's moving to Kephallonia, he must have some protection."
Leonidas leaned forward, smirking. "So what? We've beaten their best before. We'll do it again."
Voices rose as arguments flared. Some demanded action, others warned against rashness. Alexios slammed both palms on the table. "Enough talking! Atlas, you decide. What's the plan?"
All eyes turned to him.
Atlas's gaze swept the room. "Eryx, Phaedra, Thea, Nikandros, Kyra, Leonidas—you will remain. Guard the camp. Protect the cities. If the Cult stirs here, crush them." His voice grew sharper. "Alexios, Lukas—you're with me. To Kephallonia."
A hush fell, followed by nods of agreement.
The next dawn was gold across the sky. Three horses stood ready at the gates. Atlas checked his satchel of maps one last time, while Alexios twirled his spear like a boy eager for mischief, and Lukas hefted his axe, grinning.
Their companions gathered to see them off.
Eryx clasped Atlas's hand. "Don't get yourself killed, leader. We'll keep the fire burning."
Phaedra smirked. "And bring back something worthwhile. Not just more enemies."
Nikandros added with a shrug, "Preferably something profitable."
Kyra crossed her arms. "Remember—if you make a mess, we're the ones cleaning it. Don't be careless."
Leonidas gave a wolfish grin. "If you fail, I'll carve your names on stone myself."
And then there was Thea. She hovered close to Alexios, eyes soft, words caught in her throat. Finally, she said, "Be careful, Alexios."
He grinned, utterly oblivious. "Careful? Where's the fun in that?"
Thea flushed scarlet and looked away, muttering, "Idiot…"
Lukas barked a laugh. "She means it, brother."
"What?" Alexios blinked, confused.
Atlas mounted his horse, shaking his head. "We ride to Korinth first. From there, we rent a ship. But once we set sail, there's no turning back. In Kephallonia, we cut off the Cult's hand."
Alexios's grin widened, fire in his eyes. "Finally. An adventure worth the wait."
Lukas swung onto his horse with a grin. "Then let's hope this Cult dog bleeds easy."
With farewells shouted and hands raised, the three rode out, hooves thundering against the dirt. Behind them, the camp stood strong, their home. Ahead, Kephallonia awaited—and with it, the first clash in a war that would shake all of Greece.
END of Chapter 19