The sun rose warm over the hills, the road stretching endlessly toward Korinth. Dust rose with each hoofbeat, and the three riders made steady progress.
Alexios leaned forward in his saddle, his grin wide. "Finally, Atlas. An adventure that doesn't involve books, farms, or teaching children how to add numbers. About time."
Atlas didn't look up from the scroll he was reading as they rode. "And what will you do when your grand 'adventure' involves long nights of walking, weeks without proper food, and arrows flying at your head?"
"Enjoy it," Alexios said without hesitation.
Lukas chuckled from the other side. "Don't mind him, Atlas. He's been itching for trouble since we left. If he doesn't get to stab someone soon, he might start poking me in my sleep."
Alexios glared at him. "I don't stab friends, Lukas. I stab enemies." He paused, smirking. "Unless you keep snoring like a wild boar."
Lukas burst out laughing, his large frame shaking in the saddle. Atlas shook his head but couldn't help the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.
As if on cue, shadows moved among the rocks ahead. Six rough-looking men emerged, armed with dented swords and chipped spears, grins full of missing teeth.
"Well, well," the leader sneered, pointing his blade at them. "Three fat horses, packs stuffed with goods… and three idiots riding without guards. Fortune favors us."
Alexios lit up like a boy at a festival. "Finally."
Atlas pinched the bridge of his nose. "Gods, you wished for this, didn't you?"
"I prayed for it," Alexios said proudly, sliding from his horse and twirling his spear.
The bandits laughed. "Oh look, the boy thinks he's a soldier."
Lukas dismounted slowly, resting his axe on his shoulder. "No, not a soldier. Worse. He's my brother."
The bandits hesitated at Lukas's sheer size, but the leader spat. "Kill them and get the horses too."
They charged.
Alexios was already moving, his spear whistling through the air. He caught the first man under the ribs, flipped him onto his back, and pressed the spearpoint to his throat. "See? Told you."
Another lunged for him, but Lukas intercepted, swinging his axe in a wide arc. The bandit's sword clattered away, and Lukas grinned. "Careful! Break too easy and it's no fun."
Atlas finally folded his scroll, slipped from his horse, and drew his swords. He sidestepped a swing, cut the man's wrist with precise economy, then slammed a knee into his gut. The man crumpled, choking for air.
Moments later, the road was quiet. The surviving bandits scrambled to flee into the brush, leaving their weapons behind.
Alexios wiped his spear, disappointed. "That's it? Six of them? Barely worth the sweat."
"Not everything is meant to be fun," Atlas replied, mounting his horse again. "Besides, it was practice."
"For them or us?" Lukas teased.
Atlas smirked. "Both."
By afternoon, Korinth gleamed on the horizon. Whitewashed walls, towering temples, and bustling docks sprawled across the isthmus.
Alexios straightened, awed. "Now this… this is what adventure looks like."
"Adventure or trouble," Atlas said quietly. "In Korinth, they're the same."
They rode through the gates and into the bustling streets. Merchants shouted over each other, hetaerae whispered sweet words to wealthy men, and sailors bartered loudly in the open markets. The air was thick with perfume, sweat, and wine.
It was then Atlas spotted someone familliar— a hooded figure weaving through the crowd, shadowing someone. Something tugged at his memory.
"Do you see that?" Atlas asked.
Alexios squinted. "What? Another hood? Atlas, half the city wears hoods."
Lukas shrugged. "Probably a thief."
Atlas stared at them in disbelief. "Are you two blind? He's a little familiar."
Before he could say more, shouts erupted. Guards — no, thugs — surrounded the hooded man. "You there! Stop! What are you hiding?"
The man pressed against a wall, cornered.
Atlas swung off his horse. "Stay here."
"Stay here?" Alexios scoffed. "Not a chance."
Lukas cracked his knuckles. "If there's a fight, I'm coming."
Atlas ignored them, striding toward the confrontation. He raised his hands in mock calm. "Brothers, what's the issue here? Surely Korinth's guards have better work than harassing travelers."
The leader spat. "Do we look like guards to you? We're Monger's men."
Atlas's eyes narrowed. The Monger… of course. He forced a mask of recognition. "Ah, the mighty Monger. Forgive us. We're new here in the city, here, a token of respect." He tossed them a pouch of false coins.
The leader weighed it, grinned, and sneered. "Remember your place. Don't wander where you don't belong." With that, they slunk away.
Atlas exhaled, signaling to Alexios and Lukas. They emerged from hiding, weapons ready.
"You know," Alexios said, twirling his spear, "we could've just killed them. Saved us the coins."
Atlas rolled his eyes. "If we kill every thug we meet, we're no better than the Cult. Rules matter, Alexios."
"Yeah, yeah. 'Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent,' bla bla."
Atlas feigned shock. "Oh, so you did listen?"
Alexios scowled. "Don't mock me."
Lukas chuckled. "Children. Both of you."
Finally, Atlas turned to the hooded man. "Now… let's see your face."
The man hesitated, then pushed back his hood. His eyes, sharp yet familiar, met theirs. "Brother Alexios… it's me. Dorian."
Alexios blinked, stunned. "Dorian? By the gods… I thought you were dead."
Dorian smirked faintly. "Not dead. Just very good at staying hidden. And I've been following shadows you wouldn't believe."
Atlas clapped his shoulder, relief flooding his face. "I knew I recognized you."
Alexios stared, speechless for once. Lukas grinned, leaning on his axe. "Well, looks like the adventure just got interesting."
END of Chapter 20