The house was small, its shutters nailed shut against the night air. Inside, lamplight wavered over a table scarred by years of use. The room smelled of smoke, old wine, and sweat.
Atlas sat at the table with Alexios and Lukas at his side. Across from them stood Dorian, hood down now, and at his side a woman who radiated a quiet authority: Anthousa, leader of Korinth's hetaerae. Around them were others — merchants with nervous eyes, dockworkers with hands like rope, even a laundress clutching her shawl tight. All carried the same look: weary from Monger's oppression, but not yet broken.
The silence broke with a cough. A merchant leaned forward, his voice trembling. "This is madness. Three men — three boys, really — against Monger and all his men? You'll get us all killed."
Alexios slammed his hand on the table, making the lamp shiver. "Three men? Ha! That's all it takes. I'll take his head myself if need be." His grin was cocky, but fire burned behind it.
The merchant shrank back.
Dorian raised a hand, calm. "You doubt them because you don't know them, but I do. I grew up with them. I would not be standing here if not for Atlas and the others. They fed me when I was starving, cured me when I was sick, gave me family when I had none. If he says Monger can fall, then Monger can fall."
Anthousa's dark eyes flicked between Dorian and Atlas. "You trust them with your life?"
Dorian didn't hesitate. "Without question."
Atlas leaned forward then, voice steady. "You doubt us, and that's fair. But know this — we aren't asking you to throw your lives away. We strike the places Monger depends on most. His warehouses. We cut off his arms before we go for the head."
Lukas spoke up, resting his axe against his shoulder. "There are three warehouses. One west, one east, one south. We hit them all at once. Quick. Clean."
Anthousa tilted her head, skeptical. "And after? What happens when Monger learns his goods are gone? He'll have every street crawling with men."
Atlas unfolded a crude map he'd drawn. His finger traced the lines of the city roofs. "He won't have time. We move fast and over the rooftops. Fastest way to Monger's house. By the time he knows, we'll already be knocking on his door."
A ripple of unease spread through the room. One of the dockworkers muttered, "Over roofs? Like cats?"
Alexios smirked. "Speak for yourself. I leap like a lion."
Lukas chuckled. "More like a goat."
The room actually laughed at that, tension breaking for a moment. Even Anthousa's lips curved into the faintest smile.
Atlas let them laugh before continuing. "Once the warehouses are ours, Anthousa, your people hold them. Merchants, dockhands — anyone who has been wronged by Monger. Guard the doors. Spread word that the supplies are no longer his. By dawn, the city will know who really owns those goods."
Anthousa studied him, arms folded. "You speak as if you've led armies."
Atlas met her gaze evenly. "Not armies. Family. And that's what we are here, whether by blood or bond. Monger took that from us. Tonight, we will take it back."
Dorian placed a hand on Anthousa's shoulder. "I know what you're thinking. But I've seen them fight. They're not like reckless people. They're… different. Trust me."
Anthousa hesitated, then gave a single nod. "Very well. But if this fails, it's not only your blood that spills. It's mine. And my girls."
Alexios grinned wide. "Then it won't fail." He jabbed a thumb toward Lukas. "I'll take the west warehouse."
Lukas answered with a grin of his own. "East is mine, then."
Atlas exhaled, resigned. "Which leaves me with the south."
Alexios leaned back in his chair, already cocky. "The first one to Monger's house wins. Loser buys wine for the rest of us."
Lukas barked a laugh. "Deal. Don't trip over your own spear."
Atlas stared at them both, deadpan. "Are you two finished? This isn't a game."
Alexios leaned over, smirking. "Oh, it's always a game. Makes life sweeter when you win."
Atlas shook his head, but a faint smile tugged at his lips. "Then hurry. The faster you move, the faster we end this."
Anthousa stood, her presence commanding. "My people will be ready. The moment your blades fall, the city moves with you."
Dorian pulled up his hood. "Then it's time. Tonight, Korinth remembers its voice."
Atlas looked at each of them — Anthousa, Dorian, the merchants, Alexios, Lukas — and felt the weight of what was to come settle in his chest. "No more words. We strike before the city wakes. Remember — we are family. Protect each other first. Everything else is secondary."
The room erupted with murmurs of agreement, fists thumping the table.
Moments later, they slipped into the night, splitting in three directions. On the rooftops above Korinth, shadows moved swiftly, each hunting their warehouse target.
And in the dark, Monger slept, unaware that his reign was about to end.