In a time long ago, in a land foreign to own, war was waged. It was an engagement between men, fought honorably on the field of battle, for glory and prestige. Great kings raise armies, do battle, and then the men return to their fields.

Times have changed.

The republic is young but strong. Enemies surround her, and many young men are called to fight on battlefields far from home, for causes they do not understand. Many will never see their homes, and those who do, find that things can never be the same.

These are the tales of Gaius Decimus, called Ultor the Avenger; exiled by his people, doomed to wander the earth, leading his men across the world, forever in search of a home they could not return to, seeking revenge against the man who condemned him...

I: The Land of the Barbarians
II: Gaius Decimus Exsul
III: Invictus
IV: The Affairs of Other Men
V: The Machinations of the Serpent

VI

Quintus Magnus

Marcus Quintus took a deep breath as a calm breeze blew across the dusty street, kicking up dirt onto his clothes. A legion of unnamed, armored men carrying spears, swords, clubs, and bows marched towards him. Pikes, scimitars, a battering ram? No, wait, that was just a really big stick.

Good gods, he muttered to himself, how do I get myself into these predicaments? Oh yes, I remember now.

Those bastards. This all could’ve been solved peacefully. ‘He, we won’t come back and bother anybody anymore.’ Very simple! No, instead they have to call in the entire damn mercenary contingent of the Mediterranean world to come at me. Well, you know what?! I don’t have to take this. “You hear me, you bunch of club toting, over aggressive maniacs who have nothing better to do than pick on a bunch of poor people in a tiny, quiet little town where all they want to do is go about and live their lives in peace! This is it! I’ve had enough! No more! By the gods, Marcus Quintus will take no more!”

He stood straight up, dust falling away from the black cloak he wore, the powder clinging to his skirt. “They said the Illiad is when Achilles got mad?” Quintus threw off his cloak, letting it fall to the ground, and drew out his longbow, putting an arrow to the string. The cloak flew back in the wind, vanishing to oblivion, the mythic hero of Marcus Quintus standing like a god in a cuirass and skirt, his weapon aimed at the insurmountable odds poised to destroy him, his hair, well, if it was longer, would be flying in the breeze. “Then call this the Quintus… iad.”

Marcus Quintus raised his head up, looking down to the minions of hell that he prepared to slay, bringing peace and order back to the small abused Greek town, to be the hero that they knew he was, and had proclaimed him as such as soon as he entered the village, and released the string, unleashing the mighty thunder of the gods of justice, wielded by men once more.

The string snapped, and the arrow dropped.

He raised an eyebrow, perplexed, and looked at the bow. No arrow destroying the legions of hell. No bad guys getting knocked a hundred feet into the air by the missile of law and order. He looked at bow, and exposed the tragic flaw that every good mythic hero must have.

The knot that held the string had come undone.

“You’re f*cking kidding me.”

The day went downhill from there.

* * *

“So this, like all other good stories, starts with a girl…”

“Gods above, Quintus, shut up, you don’t have to make it so melodramatic.”

“Yes, yes I do have to make it melodramatic, because this is a tale of epic proportions. I’m a mythic hero! There are legends about me!”

“He’s kidding right?”

“No, I’m afraid he’s not. There’s actually some legend that he fits the profile of. Vaguely.”

“These are the end times, gentlemen.”

“Guys? Could we? I’m trying to explain what happened. You’d think you’d cut me a little slack since I’m the main character of the story --”

“Shut up and get on with it.”

“Before I was interrupted by our classless friend, I was trying to. As I was saying, it starts with a girl…”

***

“Angelina.”

“What a beautiful name,” I told her with a smile. “Perfect for an angel such as yourself.”

She laughed, and it was like Venus had just shown down upon me. It was a few nights after the Hellenic League was driven back when we first met.

Long black hair, browned skin, perfect white teeth, the bust of a queen, and legs that went from here to eternity. I met her only moments before I was about to leave for the scheduled officer’s meeting at camp.

But you know how my attention span is, and I often forget scheduled events.

So yes, I did have her on my lap, about to make out with me when you came barging into the tavern to drag me off to the meeting. But really, can you blame me? Am I not human? If you prick me do I not bleed? – One comment about me being a prick, and I break your jaw, understand? Regardless, I got screwed… or rather, not.

***

“Is this going anywhere?”

“Yes, it is. Just shut up and pay attention, I’m trying to tell a story…”

***

Time goes by, and soon I was spending all of my time either in raids, or in camp, no time to carouse in the town. When I finally have a free moment, I make my way back to the illustrious tavern, and find over twenty messages waiting for me.

I waded my way through them, and sure enough, ten were from Angelina. I keep telling you, once you get a taste of Marcus magic, you can’t get away from it.

“My Marcus… You made an incredible impression on me all those nights ago. I am scared that you have really vanished from Megara as I have not seen you since, but please, if you ever do return, contact me. I need to see you again. – Angelina.”

Talk about a nice warm welcome after a long day of pillaging and fighting, right? I spent the next several hours trying to find someone in the town who knew her, and failed miserably.

More and more time went by, and it seemed like the mysterious Angelina had gone into history. Then about a week ago, there came a knock at the door of my room in the inn above the tavern. It was early in the morning, and I was relatively hung over following a really long night the previous evening. I rolled out of bed, thankful that someone else was not sharing it with me, because that would’ve been a complete haze, and you know, paint me as a terrible person and such.

"Yeah, what is it?”

“Marcus? It is Angelina.”

“Angelina… Oh! Angelina!” I sprung to the door and threw it open to reveal the goddess in front of me. “Why good morning.”

“It's late afternoon, actually.”

Hm. I suppose I was wrong about it being early in the morning. “Ah yes. Of course. Just kidding, dear.”

She cleared her beautiful throat now, “Listen… Um… I was wondering if you’d be interested in seeing each other this evening?”

“I’m not really sure, I am kind of an officer in the army that’s fighting off the hordes of evil Greeks…”

“But I want to bring someone with me to meet you. She’s very excited.”

Sweet Merciful Venus, Mother Roma, and Jupiter Above. She wanted a threesome! This was the greatest day of my life. “Well sure, I’d love to have her along!”

“Then I’ll see you and your friend for her tonight for dinner?”

Damn.

“Oh. Yeah, of course, not a problem.” I don’t see this going well. “Where to?”

“I have a small apartment on the other side of town.”

“Sure, that would be wonderful…”

So this brings us closer to the story of how we are sitting here today, in this compromising situation. I needed a man to pair the ugly friend off with, and unfortunately, Decimus had vanished with Anaximander the morning before.

So Sextus Valerius it is.

***

“Sextus, my good friend, how are you?”

“What do you want?” He said, accusation in his heart.

Wow. Some people, honestly.

“What makes you think I want something?”

“Because you didn’t greet me with some form of mockery. You were actually cordial.”

“Can’t a gentleman say hello to his dear friend?”

“You’re not a gentlemen.”

I extended him an obscene gesture. “What are you doing tonight?”

“I was going to lead out a patrol, there are rumors that some Hellenic scouts have been getting close to the camp --”

“Bull. You’re coming with me and two very attractive young women, and we’re going to have a night out on the town, and have ourselves a good times.”

“I’m married. With children.”

“I didn’t say you needed to sleep with the other woman.”

“Just keep her occupied so you can sleep with the other.”

“More or less.”

“What do I get in return?”

“My undying love and affection.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Ass. Fine, I’ll take your patrol duty for two weeks.”

“Deal. But I only come for a few hours, I will not flirt, and I will make it clear that I have no interest whatsoever in her.”

“No flirting but don’t flaunt that she has no chance and I’ll throw on another week.”

“Done.”

“You’re a bastard, Sextus Valerius.”

“I am aware.”

“Good, as long as we’re clear on that topic.”

“Crystal. I’m a bastard, and you’re a son of a bitch.”

I paused, and contemplated it. “Agreed. Tonight at sundown?”

“It’s a date.”

***

“I do not sound like that.”

“What do you expect? It was a long time ago, I can’t exactly remember quotes down to a T.”

“Down to a T? You have me engaging in witty banter with you! I do not banter!”

“Oh, you better believe you were bantering!”

“Both of you shut up, you’re bantering right now!”

“Ha! I win! And as long as that’s settled, back to the story.”

***

Well the date was awkward to say the least.

We rode up on our two stolen Macedonian horses, and lo and behold, Sextus even groomed his horse for once. To think, I was starting to wonder who would get ticks first – Oh, I kid, I kid.

Sextus and I stood at the front door of her building wearing black traveling cloaks, and dark tunics underneath. I was clean shaven, my hair washed, and looked like a normal member of society as opposed to a wandering soldier.

Sextus on the other hand, was a bit lacking. The same attire, but clearly had hadn’t even attempted to class himself up. The idiot’s hair was matted down and long after so many straight days of fighting, and his face had more stubble that that one old woman back in Gaul.

On the plus side, at least this meant I had a far better chance of picking up a threesome with the girls when they were disappointed with Sextus.

I took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

Sextus nodded and walked forward, opening up the door for me, and gesturing politely for me to enter. “After you, your majesty.”

“Glad so see you finally showing some respect for your superiors, Valerius.”

“Of course, Quintus.”

With a quick inquiry to the building’s proprietor, we were sent up to the second apartment on the third floor. The motley pair that was us headed up the stairs, and after a short trot down the hall, I brought my hand up to knock on the door.

Two taps and it was opened, to reveal quite possibly the most lovely woman I had seen in the past few weeks. Angelina did not wear a dress so much as wrap herself in it. A deep, pure, red material that I was too busy staring at to try to name, clinging to her body like it was another skin. The neck was cut so low that - - Good gods, I dare not even say it. Her dark brown hair fell past her shoulders like a river of chocolate, flowing along her back. The bangs covered the left side of her face, one brown eye looking at me, beautiful red lips parting to smile at me and make em melt inside. Well, not melt so much as the opposite thereof, but once again, nobody wants to know about that.

Sextus nudged me. “Ahem.”

“Oh yes.” I snapped out of my reverie, and gave an exaggerated bow to our hostess, flashing the best half-smile I could muster. The charm was on, my boys, and no woman could resist. “Angelina, I am a better man simply for having the honor of looking upon you this beautiful evening.”

She smiled in return, “You flatter me, although it is always comforting to hear that a man appreciates me.”

“I do more than appreciate you, dear angel, I adore you.” I stood up, and gave her a kiss on the cheek, whispering a sweet nothing into her ear. I pulled away, and felt Sextus’ fist jacking me directly in the kidney. I turned my head and rolled my eyes at him, muttering, “Classy.”

“That was ridiculous. How is she not laughing?”

I grinned at my companion, and shook my head, “Women are clay, friend. You just need to know how to mold them.”

Turning back to Angelina, finishing my near silent aside conversation with Sextus, I asked if her friend was already here.

“Mariana, please meet Marcus Quintus and Sextus Valerius.”

I heard the voice of another angel, and glanced to my side, seeing another vixen almost identical to Angelina, save her dress was in a dark blue as opposed to the deep red.

“The pleasure is all mine. I have heard so much about you, Marcus, from my sister.”

I gulped, “Sister?”

“Yes,” Angelina answered, “Mariana and I are twin sisters, born only moments apart. Some say we are identical, but I still say we have quite a few differences, even if they aren’t visible right now.” She chuckled at her joke, while I remained completely silent.

I have found Elysium.

***

We had the customary casual drink to begin the evening, but soon, it became apparent that the evening would both begin and end here. The conversation was remarkable. And it even looked like Sextus was being social. I couldn’t believe it. Social. To a girl. Gee, what will you see next?

At almost one thirty, then, I lost all faith in a man I used to consider a friend and comrade.

“Well, it’s getting late, I think I should be going.”

My jaw dropped.

“Oh, Sextus, but it feels like you only just got here,” Mariana said, with just the right amount of pleading to make any red-blooded male want to instantly do whatever she asked.

For the record, Sextus’ blood is slightly green.

“Sorry, but I got an early start tomorrow. C’mon, Quintus, let’s ride.”

Oh my God. Not only is he wasting his own personal chance to get with this skirt, he’s completely ruining my shot too. I couldn’t believe it. I literally was held speechless, which is something that is quite rare for me. I was stunned. I don’t think my mind could comprehend the situation in front of me. The entire logic of it was just not correct. I think I may have muttered something along the lines of, “Fwa?”

“Too bad,” I heard Angelina say, “After all the effort I went through to hunt you down, now you have to leave so early.”

“Yeah, a real shame. But I’m sure we’ll see one another again soon,” Sextus replied.

Mariana stood up, and walked over to Sextus, and the two began to speak and say goodbyes, but it was unintelligible to me.

I felt hot breath on my ear, and shuddered, “Too bad. We could’ve had fun instead.”

Something touched my neck, and I wanted to die. Then I realized that it wasn’t her lips, nor her tongue, nor any part of her body. It was a sharp point, dipped in poison.

The last thing I saw before falling sideways out of my chair and crashing onto the floor, slipping into unconsciousness, was Sextus Valerius collapsing to his knees, and Mariana catching him.

* * *

“Wait, you’re telling me that both of you were taken out by a pair of women? Twins, no less? Oh come on. This can’t be the truth - -”

“It is. Even I’ll attest to that. He was pretty right in telling what happened.”

“Of course I was. This whole story is word for word true.”

“Because if it is the truth, I’m going to laugh my ass off, because I now will forever hold it over your head that you got beat by girls. You losers.”

“If I can continue…”

* * *

You ever been hit in the head by a giant rock? No? No, neither have I – oh, wait, yes, I have.

This felt similar.

When I came to, I found myself sitting in the back of a wooden cart being drawn by our own horses, my eyes opening up to see Angelina in the front passenger spot, looking back at me. “Good morning, Marcus.”

I felt the urge to lunge at her, and suddenly, my wrists were snapped back, nearly ripping my shoulders out of their sockets, and really, really hurting my skin. “Rope. Cute. If you wanted to play kinky, all you had to do was ask.” I groaned as I sunk back into the floor, my head absolutely throbbing. There was a metal bar behind my back where my hands were chained. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You have an important date with destiny,” Mariana replied.

“Date with destiny? Lovely. Lady D should’ve told me, I would have dressed up better.”

“Angelina said you were cute, I didn’t hear that you were funny as well.”

“I’m hysterical,” I muttered. Then I turned my head and saw Sextus with his head up against the side of the wagon, blood running out of his mouth and onto his clothes, staining brightly. “I swear to the gods if you hurt him - -“

“You’ll what?” Mariana said, “You’ll hurt two women. I’m sure. Are you sure he’s the right one, Angelina?”

“I am sure,” her sister quickly snapped back.

The two then exchanged a bit in a dialect of Greek I did not know, making me wish that I really had paid attention back in school when that old battle axe of a tutor attempted to teach me another language. ‘When the hell am I going to need to know how to speak hick Greek?’ I cried. I hate irony.

“Your friend will be fine. We just had to deal with him slightly when he resisted,” Mariana’s cold voice told me, speaking in standard Greek once again.

“Joy.”

“Just go back to sleep. It will all be made clear soon.”

I let out a groan of pain, closing my eyes again as I tried to get as comfortable as I could with a giant metal bar wedged at that exact point on my spine where it would be the most painful. I felt like death, and just wanted to pass out. “G’night then ladies.” And so I did.

* * *

“Welcome to Myrmidonia, Achaia.”

The back of the wagon opened, and I was dragged out of the cart by Mariana. I glanced back, and saw that Sextus was being gently taken out by Angelina. Of course. You know, since I can’t catch one break today. If it was even still today. I tried to look up at the sun to see if I could tell what time it was. I squinted tightly, and whimpered, my head hurting like hell in the glare. I looked back down at the ground. It was a dusty sand dirt, the kind you see in - - wait. “Myrmidonia?! Where the hell are we?!”

“Yes, this is Myrmidonia, of Achaia, along the gulf of Corinth. It is not a very hospitable community.”

My eyes adjusted to the light slowly, and I looked around.

If the gods ever forgot about a city, this was it.

The ground was sand. The buildings were made of clay and wood if they were lucky, dilapidated and ready to fall over in the slightest of wind, carts and wagons broken and off their wheels.

The people were worse.

Men looking like they had been to hell and back, skin raw, beards long and dirty. The women were haggard, tired and exhausted, wearing mere rags. The children… the children were lucky if they got rags. They looked starved, already seeing far more years in their eyes than any child ever should have to. I swallowed hard as I was dragged forward. I can’t stand seeing kids suffering. I just can’t take it.

We were taken into a run-down tavern, and led to a back room. There, the two of us were forced to sit down on a rickety pair of wooden chairs. Angelina and Mariana stood around a round table in front of us. A few more men and women surrounded it, and they stared intently at Sextus and I, speaking in hushed Achaean to one another.

“Marcus Quintus,” Mariana spoke.

I looked up, shooting her a cold look, “What?”

The room became loud again, quiet gasps and conversation filling it. I saw the door, there were even more people looking in, trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on. My head was hurting too much to attempt to piece it all together. I didn’t care right now.

“This is Myrmidonia. The hellhole of the world. It is impoverished. It is starving. It is absolutely barren and destroyed. There is almost nothing left,” Angelina said, speaking quietly and softly. “But this is our home. Certainly you still love your home, do you not?”

“I don’t have a lot of fond memories of my own home.”

She smiled sadly, warmth still in her eyes. She was surprisingly nice for a kidnapper. “That is sad. I’m sorry for you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t go back there anymore.”

“I understand… but this is my home. And I love it more than anything else in this world.”

Mariana began, “We are under attack. What little home we have left will be gone soon if we do not fight back, but we try and fight, and all we do is die, there is nothing we can do - - “

“Sister, silence, now,” Angelina snapped. She then smiled at me again, “Help us, Marcus.”

“Help you? How the hell can I help you? I’m not rich, I can’t just give everybody money to fix the city. I mean, I’m sorry, I really am. This is horrible, but I can’t really do anything to fix it.”

“You will be our savior.”

“Your what?” Sextus was suddenly awake, letting out the shock.

“Yes. Marcus Quintus is the savior spoken of in a time long past.”

“You’re kidding me,” Sextus and I simultaneously muttered.

“No, really,” Sextus said, “You’ve got to be joking. Where’s Decimus? You got us good, Gaius! Nice one, making Quintus feel important - -” He was silenced with a punch across the jaw from Mariana. He spit out blood again.

“Hey! Don’t touch him!”

“Be quiet or expect the same,” Mariana shot at me.

“Mariana, please,” Angelina told her sister, putting her hand upon her shoulder. “I have never been more serious, Marcus.

“After the Trojan War, Achilles’ Myrmidons, the greatest warriors in the entire world, wandered Greece in search of a purpose, putting themselves into exile after the death of their general.

“Myrmidonia is the village they founded during their exile from Thessaly. For generations, the Myrmidons protected their city, but… But this has been a time of great destruction. The warriors in black armor were called upon to drive back the sons of Heracles, to fight at Marathon, and stand with Leonidas, to sail at Salamis, to ride against Alexander, and then, to conquer the world with him.

“The wars of the Diadochi have killed even more, and plagues have ravaged us just as they ravaged our homeland of Aegina. And now, bandits from the east cause our ruin.

“Our prosperity was crushed, our women raped, our men turned into slaves, our children’s hope taken away. But the last of the pure blooded daughters of the Myrmidons told her children as she lay upon her deathbed that one day, a savior would come, as strong and heroic as Achilles, and restore our glory. Our golden age would return, and all suffering here would end.”

“Listen,” I started, “I really want to help you out, but I am no savior - -”

“Now, we are a ruined town without law. The only rule is that of a bandit king calling himself Thessalos the Great. He claims he is the last descendant of Thessalian Myrmidons, and that he has the right to own this city.”

“What would he want with a run down place like this?”

“Our land is the only soil in Greece on which the black lotus grows. The dark flower from the south which has poisoned so many souls can be harvested here, and the bandits sell the crop to addicts and decadents across all Greece.

“And now, now that his men have become bored with our women, now that Thessalos has killed enough of our men, now that he has poisoned enough of our children, and raped our land barren, he says that he is going to destroy our homes and sell the property to whoever will take it. We will have nothing, Marcus, nothing.”

I sighed, and shook my head, “I can’t do anything. I’m just some stupid fool from --“

“You are our savior.”

“I am not your savior!”

“Marcus Quintus, but the prophecy cannot be a lie. It cannot! You are the one that she spoke of! You are the one!”

“What prophecy? I’m not some savior! I’m not some mythical hero!”

“But… but… you have to help us… you have to, it can’t be wrong…” Angelina lowered her head, and covered her eyes as she started to cry. She began to mutter something in Achaean that I couldn’t understand.

I was silent, I didn’t know what to say. “Angelina… I’m sorry. I’m not.”

Suddenly, our bonds were released, and the people backed away from us. “Go. Leave. Your horses can take you to Megara if you follow the road east,” Mariana said. Her voice was emotionless.

I stood up slowly, Sextus gaining up to his feet and walking behind me. We went for the door, leaving the backroom, and walking out of the tavern. It looked as if the entire town was standing outside, waiting for us. I felt sick. The drug that they had given us to get us down here had worn off, but the sheer guilt gnawed at me. I couldn’t help them. These people put their hope into me, and I had nothing to give them.

There were women crying, and children scratching at their mother’s skirts, whimpering.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered, and climbed onto my horse, Sextus mounting his.

I gave the animal a soft kick, and we rode off in silence.

* * *

Finally Valerius spoke, the small village beginning to fall away in the distance, “There’s nothing you could’ve done, Quintus.”

“Yeah… Yeah, I know, Sextus.”

“She was just some crazy broad who mistook you for someone else.”

“Yeah… Sextus… I’m sorry I got you tangled up in this.”

“Hey, it happens, you know? At least we’ll have a fun road trip on the way back, right?”

I laughed a little bit, attempting to force a smile, “Yeah. Yeah we will.”

It was silent again for a little bit, until I caught a glimpse of something flickering behind us. I turned so that I could see, and watched as a caravan of wagons drove into the village, men brandishing torches, and swords. That did not look like the kind of car someone in that town could afford. “Sextus…”

“I see them.”

There was silence for another few seconds.

“Valerius- -”

“I know.”

Immediately, we pulled back on the reins of our horses, and pulled a one-eighty, dust kicking up into the air as the horses cried, and galloped at full speed back to Myrmidonia.

* * *

“We don’t want you here anymore, Attalos. Get out of here and never come back!” Mariana screamed in the face of a tall, dark man wearing leather armor, hair down his back, and a beard that was unkempt.

Attalos raised his right hand and punched the girl in the mouth, knocking her down to the dirt ground. “You shut your mouth, *****. This is our city. We do what we want. We take what we want.” He gave her a sharp kick to the stomach with his metal toed boots, and she cried out in pain as she curled up, her breath taken from her, blood dripping from her cut lip.

He kicked her again, and she started to whimper. The captain of the mercenaries hired by Thessalos the Great was leading a field trip into Myrmidonia so that Thessalos’ men could reap the benefits of their hard work. Attalos decided a long time ago that he would the strongest woman of the village and have his way with her. Mariana was the only one who dared to mouth off to him, while the others simply submitted to his intentions. She was a fiery one, and would put up quite a fight during the night. The more the better, he reasoned.

Attalos flicked a dagger out of his belt. He stooped down and pressed it against the beautiful woman’s face, slowly dragging it across her skin, not enough to cut her, but enough to let her know that she was his now, and should treat her new man with respect. He licked her cheek, grinning. “You are mine tonight, girl.”

“Attalos, please, please, Attalos, take me again tonight!”

Attalos rose back to his feet, and saw Angelina, Mariana’s sister. She had tears in her eyes, as she put her hands upon his arm. “Please, you don’t want Mariana. You know I will treat you much better, do you? I always do. Please, just let her rest, she is tired.”

The mercenary pushed her away, knocking her onto the ground, “Quiet, bitch. I know what I want tonight, and I want your sister. If she’s any good, maybe I’ll let you join us next time.”

“Attalos, please, if you leave her alone, I promise I won’t choke this time - -”

“Shut your filthy mouth!”

The man stooped down again, and smiled, his yellow teeth grinning like a monster in the middle of the night. Mariana tensed herself, trying to hold back the pain she was going through. “You and I are going to have fun tonight, little Mariana.”

Mariana spit in his face. “Burn in hell, little boy.”

Attalos stood up, and screamed out a curse as he kicked Mariana one more time, and then dropped to his knees, putting the knife to her face. He sliced the blade down her cheek, cutting her open as she screamed out in agony. “There! There, you w----! Now no one but Attalos will love you! No one will want you now that you’re hideous! Tell me you love me! Tell me that I am the only one who will love you!”

“Go - - go to hell…”

“I swear to the gods, w----, that if you speak to me like that one more time I will kill you before I take you!”

She opened her mouth to say something more, but her voice was drowned out.

Two galloping horses neighed as they came to a halt just a few feet away. They came to a sudden stop, and kicked up dust all over, blinding Attalos. He wiped his eyes, noting mentally that Thessalos made no mention of another caravan coming.

The dust settled, and off one of the horses came a scrawny man in a black cloak. He was half the size of Attalos.

“Who the hell are you, boy?”

The small man smiled, and pushed back the cloak he wore as he stepped up to Attalos. Attalos raised up his knife to cut the meddler, when suddenly he felt pain worse than he had ever felt before.

I kneed him in the balls, and dropped the big bastard with a right hook square in the nose. He fell to the ground holding onto his crotch and grabbing his broken, bleeding nose, screaming like a little girl. “I’m Marcus Quintus. Who the f-- are you?”

He attempted to swipe the knife at me, but a quick dodge, followed up with squeezing his wrist on the pressure point quickly disarmed him. He cried out in pain as I tightened my grip. “I’m going to kill you, I swear it, I swear it! Do you know who I am?”

“No, that’s why I asked. Don’t they teach thugs how to have verbal banter with a hero anymore?” I picked up the knife. “Mariana, come here.”

Mariana was up on her feet now, her hand over the deep gash on her face. She slowly came over to me. Sextus was already off his horse, and helped Angelina back up to her feet. “Quintus - -”

“Shush. Not now. This is an anatomy lesson. Mariana, I want you to pick up Mr. Big Ugly Mercenary’s knife.”

She lifted it up.

“Now, Mr. Big Ugly Mercenary, give me your hand. Oh wait, that’s right, I still have it.” I pulled apart his thumb and forefinger. “Mariana, right here is a very important tendon. I want you to cut it.”

Without hesitating, the woman cut almost down to the bone. Attalos screamed out in utter agony as blood gushed all over his hand and mine, almost squirting out as countless important things were sliced in half.

“Whoa, whoa, that went through his hand like a hot knife through butter. Who knew?” I laughed, as I let go of his hand. The mercenary was still screaming as he reached around with his left hand, and tried to grab the sword that was sheathed at his waist. “Now, now, you shouldn’t play with things like that.” I took the blade right out of his hand, and tossed it away.

“Stand up,” I told him.

He didn’t move, only cried out in agony.

I kicked him. “Stand up!”

He got up slowly, attempting to hold onto his right hand as it bled horribly.

“Now, there is an operation to fix that. In fact, if you get to a doctor quickly, you’ll be just like new. However, that operation is one of the most painful things that mankind has ever experienced, trust me, I know. I cut that tendon making a sandwich one day. Makes it real convenient when I’m trying to come up with a new lesson to teach bastards like you when I already know what gets the point across.

“I want you to get the hell out of here. I want you to leave this city, and never come back. And I want you to tell Thessalos the Great Magnificent Prick whatever the hell his name is that I’m coming for him. That I’m going to come for him, and if he hasn’t already disappeared off the face of the Earth by the time I show up, that he is going to wish he never heard of the village of Myrmidonia. Do you understand me?”

No answer.

I punched him in the face again, dropping him. “Do you understand me?!”

He got up to his feet slowly, “Yeah… Yeah I got you.”

“Now get the hell out of my town!”

He started to turn around, and walked back to the caravan. Already a crowd of the mercenaries was gathering, trying to decide if they should join in on this fight. After all, it would be more than twenty on two. Then again, that little guy did just annihilate their leader. Without much effort, might I add.

He was moving slowly.

“Sextus, axe.”

Sextus Valerius went for the bag hanging from his horse, and pulled out a long axe, tossing it at me. “Catch.”

“Thank you.” I took the axe in both hands, and spun around with the weapon, throwing it like a hammer at the mercenaries. The mercenaries started to scramble in fear, as Attalos took off running full speed for the caravan of wagons. “That’s right! Get out of here! And don’t ever come back!” I grabbed a torch one of them dropped, and threw it at one of the wagons, the rickety wooden cart catching fire quickly. “Tell Thessalos that Marcus Quintus is here! Tell him that the legends are true! The savior is back and he is pissed off! Tell the bastard that I’m coming for him! Tell him that Marcus Motherf*cking Quintus is coming for him!”

* * *

“Marcus Motherf*cking Quintus, eh?”

“Sounds really intimidating, doesn’t it?”

“Eh. It sounds like something Cincinatus would spout off.”

“Cincinatus?! Cincinatus?! Oh come on, I am so much better than Cincinatus. I could easily be in Ulysses range, or even Hercules.”

“Ahem. Bull.”

“I didn’t ask you!”

“Moving on… I never knew you sliced your tendon. That’s a bitch.”

"No, I never had.”

“But - -”

“You really want me to tell some thug I’m trying to intimidate the shit out of that I heard from some vet telling a story a few years back?”

“From the legion? Which one?”

“Oh I forget. But he was interesting, let me tell you.”

“Can anyone here stay on topic?”

“Yeah yeah - -"

* * *

Have you ever felt like you’ve done the right thing? I mean, really. Like whatever you did was the exact perfect, right thing to do?

When an entire village is surrounding you, cheering for you, and just trying to touch you, you feel like you did the right thing. I couldn’t hear anything other than the cheers, as I tried to yell for Angelina. I finally found her after a few minutes of wading through the mob.

She had tears running down her face, “Oh thank you, thank you so much, I knew it couldn’t be wrong - -”

“Angelina, we need to get ready. I just really pissed off a bandit king. He’s going to be back, and we need to be ready - -“

She wouldn’t respond, only saying thank you over and over again.

Mariana grabbed my shoulder from behind, and I turned to her. The gash was still bleeding. “What do you need?”

Valerius jumped in, “We’re going to need weapons. We’re going to need lots of weapons.”

* * *

“Excuse me?”

“That’s what he said, Lord Thessalos.”

Thessalos the Great, pure blooded descendant of the Thessalian Myrmidons, massaged his temples. His head hurt. “I want his head on a pike within the hour. I don’t care how. I want his head on a pike, and I want those two sisters brought to me. Alive preferably, okay? However, I’m willing to make exceptions. Just… just bring them to me. I’m sick of this.”

The bandit king ran his fingers through his hair as Attalos stood before him. He wore a white toga, with a purple sash, a striking brightness among the rest of the utter splendor of his manor. The two were in the Thessalos’ courtyard, standing in front of a marble fountain in the shape of Hercules challenging the hydra. He bent down to pick up a black lotus pipe from a nearby table. He ignited the ground leaves, and took a long, deep inhalation from the lotus pipe, breathing in the powerful aroma of the drug. He shivered, and his eyes almost rolled back into his head.

“Kill them all. You don’t get to go to a doctor until you do. Now go.”

* * *

I held a long knife in my hands, my fingers grasping the finely crafted handle. I stabbed and slashed at imaginary enemies before securing it in my belt. “Where did you get all these?”

“One does not spend her entire life in a town controlled by raiders and thugs without meeting the acquaintance of arms dealers who would be willing to trade weapons for certain favors,” Angelina solemnly spoke.

“I’m… I’m sorry - -” I muttered in reply.

“Don’t worry about it,” Mariana spoke. “We’ve all done our part to ensure the war effort. Angelina simply has done hers. And it ends today.” Mariana was dressed in full battle armor, her hair pulled back, and a helm on the table in front of her. The gash on her face had finally stopped bleeding, but the scar would be permanent. She held an old long sword, its design that of the Homeric heroes. She sheathed it on her back, and then drew up a bow and a quiver, filling it with arrows. “Load up. There’s a convoy leaving Thessalos’ compound.”

People from the village began to arrive in the war room, taking weapons and armor. It was as if the entire town had come and was arming themselves to the teeth.

I guess Angelina caught me staring. “They love their homes. They are ready to fight.”

“Most knew how to handle a sword before they learned how to read, if they can even read,” Mariana said.

Sextus had retrieved his trusty two handed axe, as well as a gladius, and was currently outfitting himself in armor, and a few more hold-out weapons. “Then why haven’t you tried to fight before?”

“The people were waiting for their savior. They know that they can fight, but they need a leader.” Angelina said.

“The people were too scared. They thought that they were cursed to suffer defeat unless this legendary hero came,” her sister shot back.

“So I’m supposed to be a great military leader?”

“You better be,” Mariana told me.

“You are,” Angelina said, in unison with her sister.

I laughed a little bit, my nerves starting to falter. The adrenaline and sense of duty that led me back to Myrmidonia only a few hours ago were now gone, and replaced by the knowledge that I had an entire town depending on me. That Sextus and I were essentially going up against an army.

“Well. Let’s go then,” I spoke as I stood up.

I began to head towards the door out onto the street, when Angelina stopped me.

“Please, take this.”

She handed me something wrapped in an old cloth. I opened it, and found a long bow, made of strong and beautiful wood, etchings upon it in Achaean Greek. Along side it was a black breastplate, and armored skirt. The armor of the Myrmidons. “This was my father’s, and his father’s… It has been passed down among the Myrmidon men for a very long time, some say it was even used by Achilles… and… and I would be honored if you used it today.”

I slipped into the cuirass, and attached the skirt over my tunic, the armor light and flexible, yet unnaturally strong. I took the bow and looked it over. I ran my hand along the bow, feeling the letters. I wrapped my fingers around the grip, and held it up, pulling back on the string, a satisfying twang hitting my ear. “The honor is mine.”

* * *

Sextus Valerius and I stood alone on the main street that ran through Myrmidonia. The sun just starting to set, turning the skies red. It was behind us, our shadows long at our feet. The town was silent, the villagers hiding within their homes until word was given to attack. We would lure Thessalos’ mercenaries into the town, and once they completely committed, the people of Myrmidonia would cut down every last one of them.

Simple military strategy. Sextus and Mariana came up with it. Not me.

The weaponry on my body was starting to bother me. Twin scimitars were strapped to my legs, a small knife on my left side pocket, the old long knife that I found in the town armory on my right. A straight knife was at my shin, tied to my leg underneath my cloak. Finally, I was carrying a quiver, and a bunch of extra arrows for the bow across my shoulder.

Sextus was far more subtle. He carried his gladius, sheathed at his waist, ready to draw. In his hands, he held the double handed axe that hung on his horse.

The convoy pulled up on the east end of town, coming in to face us. They stopped, and soon, the nearly twenty carts, wagons, and even more single horses had unloaded, mercenaries and thugs of Thessalos taking up positions where they could better attack us. They were carrying more weapons than I had seen in a long, long time, and that’s saying something when I’ve been hanging out with you guys for so long: spears, swords, clubs, bows, torches, and some really intimidating looking giant rocks tied to sticks. Joy.

Attalos was standing at the center, holding a cavalryman’s long sword. His hand was wrapped ten times over, but I could still see the blood stains. He hadn’t been to a doctor yet. Too bad. There was another behemoth of a man with him, wearing a leather cuirass and armored skirt.

Valerius and I walked forward at them.

“Hello there,” I called out.

“We’re here to kill you,” the behemoth replied.

“I’m still giving you a chance to leave without having any more bloodshed. Just walk away.”

“We will put your heads on pikes and rape every woman in this city,” he returned.

I turned to Sextus and shrugged, “Negotiations have failed. I tried.”

“Yes, you did, Quintus. I’m very proud of you.”

I sighed, “We’re really going to have to do this, aren’t we?”

“What are you worried about? We have the equivalent of a trained army backing us up.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about. I’m more worried about us not walking away from this.”

“You’ve got to go sometime. At least we did the right thing.”

“Yeah we did,” I said, cracking my knuckles, and adjusting the Myrmidon armor. “Yeah we did.”

I looked at Sextus, and the two of us smiled, then turned to face the army standing before us, all the odds saying that there was no way we’d walk away. We looked death in the face as the sun was setting in Myrmidonia.

“Game on.”

* * *

“Is that when that whole mishap what with the string coming loose happened?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, just checking. Continue.”

* * *

I was thrown hard down onto the dust ground, as Valerius screamed out, “You idiot!”

He pulled out a hatchet from underneath his cloak, and with the skill of a Roman veteran, he threw the weapon. It was like Jupiter throwing his lighting, I tell you.

With a sickening thud, Sextus’ missile hit the behemoth with whom we tried to negotiate. His head popped like a melon, his skull split and brains spilled onto the streets of Myrmidonia.

First blood.

“Kill them!” Attalos screamed out, as every single one of the mercenaries roared in affirmation.

I immediately went for the bowstring, and retied it, praying to every last one of the gods that I could still shoot worth a damn. The arrow was put to string. I took a deep breath, pulled back, and fired.

One of the mercenaries on the front line took the arrow in the throat, and dropped dead. They broke ranks now, and it turned into a free for all, with Sextus’ and my heads the prize.

I fired again and again, running backwards and cutting left and right, dodging javelins and arrows. Sextus grabbed the thrown weapons, and demonstrated his prowess with a javelin, his aim true and deadly. The man next to Attalos fell dead with a javelin stuck through his chest.

An arrow nicked me, cutting through my clothes, and drawing blood from my leg. I grimaced, and returned fire with another arrow from the Myrmidon bow.

“Damn it, come on! It’s almost time!” I screamed out, becoming anxious as the mercenaries closed on me and Sextus.

The wagons entered the city, trapped in the corridor of Myrmidonia’s main street. Everyone was in.

I reached the fall back point, where oil and a torch waited for me. I dipped an arrow into the concoction, and set it on fire. I pulled back, and aimed high, almost feeling the breath of the mercenaries on me.

Behind the legion of Thessalos’ hired soldiers, I saw two villagers move a cart into position. My eye caught the giant jugs of oil, and I let the flaming arrow loose.

The missile soared through the air, and struck the cart. The wagon exploded in a massive fireball, a panel of wood flying over my head as it crashed down behind me on the street.

Then all hell broke loose.

The entire city rained death and destruction upon the invaders, as every occupant of Myrmidonia appeared on rooftops and in windows, unleashing a storm of arrows into the mass of mercenaries.

Thessalos’ mercenaries were cut down in the streets of Myrmidonia that day, as the city fought back.

Another of the carts exploded as an arrow hit it, flames engulfing the mercenaries’ only chance for escape. The soldiers of the bandit king tried to stop the attack, wildly firing missiles into the buildings around them, hoping to kill as many as they could.

Sextus and I grinned to each other. I dropped my bow, and drew out the two scimitars. Sextus pulled his double handed axe from his back, and we went about our business.

I spun like a tornado, slashing at anything that moved, my blades cutting through flesh like it was nothing. Blood covered me, and men fell dead everywhere I turned, the scimitars unleashing an unending justice upon the rapists, murderers, and slavers. The sharp curved swords cut through the cheap armor of the mercenaries, and none was spared from my rage.

Sextus was like the angel of death, swinging his axe left and right. The giant weapon cut away limbs and heads, breaking through swords and shields. Those who fled were caught, those who stood their ground felt the string of Valerius’ axe.

The descendants of the Myrmidons poured into the streets, crying for vengeance and blood, sword and spear in hand.

I saw one of the mercenaries knock down a villager, and raise his club to bludgeon the man to death. I went for the small knife in my pocket, and threw it like a dart. Just as the mercenary heaved his weapon up over his head, my missile struck, embedding itself in the base of the man’s spinal cord. He fell to his knees, and did not move again.

Three arrows left, a straight knife on my leg, a long knife on my right, and two scimitars in my hands.

A certain idiot decided to take that exact time to rush at Sextus with a sword. Valerius back was turned, and it looked as if the foolish attacker might deal a deathblow. It just so happened at that time that Sextus was spinning around with his mighty axe, and coincidentally, the poor bastard’s head got in the way. The blade crushed his helmet, and spread what was left of the man’s brains on the streets of Myrmidonia.

My last arrow went wide as I shot it, grazing the face of its intended target. Said target was at the same time throwing a javelin, and I had to jump off to the side to avoid certain impalement, hence the wide shot. Luckily, someone was behind him, and the arrow that missed him was put right between the second man’s eyes.

The bow went back over my shoulder, and I found myself pinned down on the ground after I lost my balance dodging an errant arrow. The javelin throw ran up to me, and brought back his spear.

“This is for Aias!” He screamed at me, raising the javelin high.

I closed my eyes, and twitched as I prepared for certain death. After realizing I was still alive, I looked up and saw my attack fall forward on top of me, blood dripping from an arrow wound in his neck. An old woman from the town held a long bow, and waved at me. I laughed, and smiled back, returning the wave.

I love this town.

* * *

Sextus Valerius was pinned down behind a burnt out hulk that used to be a merchant’s wagon alongside a boy who could be no older than ten. Arrows, javelins, and slung rocks whizzed by them, kicking up dust at they struck the ground. The child held a small bottle of oil in his hand, a burning torch in the other. Valerius ripped a javelin out of the ground, and gripped it tight.

A group of Thessalos’ men had them pinned down, and were getting closer.

“I want to help!” The boy cried out.

As Sextus turned his hand around the shaft of the javelin, reading it, he let his hand brush against his forehead, wiping away blood from his face, dripping from a wound just at his hairline, where a slung rock had struck him. The pain was horrible, but he didn’t have time to concern himself with that, or the other multitude of cuts and gashes on his body. He was pretty sure he taken a slash from a sword, but that wasn’t of a concern. He could still breathe, so it couldn’t be that bad. “When I say go, you run out, and throw that at those men, you got me? Then you come back just as fast? You throw and go, alright?”

The boy nodded.

Sextus turned the corner, brandishing his weapon and exposing himself. He threw the javelin, screaming out, “Go! Now!”

The boy left the safety of the cover, and threw the bottle of oil, with the torch following immediately thereafter. The bottle hit and shattered, oil spraying the mercenaries. The torch finished the job. The soldiers of Thessalos were burning alive. The boy came running back, but not fast enough. An archer fired off a shot.

Sextus grabbed the child by the head, and threw him to the ground, taking the arrow in the chest, the missile piercing through his battered cuirass, tearing through his body just above his right lung. Another shot hit the muscle of his shoulder, blasting out the other side. In the violent commotion, someone had gotten close enough to slash his back with their sword, blood gushing from the deep wound.

Sextus Valerius felt his legs give out from under him as he ripped another javelin from the ground and threw one more time, hitting the first archer in the face, turning his head into a bloody pulp. Sextus fell to the ground, and it all started going dark as his temples pounded. “Ah hell,” he muttered, as he saw the man who hit him in the back approaching to finish him off.

He looked up with heavy eyes to see Attalos, the leader of Thessalos’ mercenaries, looking down at him, bloody sword in hand. “Hey hero. Screw you.”

To his credit, Sextus Valerius faced death with honor.

* * *

The blade of my scimitar snapped against the helmet of a mercenary, and in the stunned aftermath, I took a club to the back. I stabbed the attacker I broke the blade upon in the face with the shattered hilt, and slashed the chest of the clubman behind me with the second scimitar.

Another mercenary came in, and his giant broadsword broke the blade of my second scimitar. Slightly frustrated by this turn of events, I brought out the long knife at my belt and embedded it in that man’s abdomen.

As he staggered backwards, falling dead, I suddenly realized I was without a weapon in my hands. Looking over the carnage on the ground, I saw Sextus’ double handed axe sticking out of a dead mercenary. It was beautiful.

I tore loose the heavy weapon, and gripped it with both hands. I lifted the axe, just in time to see Sextus take two arrows in the chest and have a sword slash his back. He fell to the ground, taking out one of the men who shot him with a head shot. The other was walking up to him, his sword ready to make the kill.

“Sextus!” I ran for him, the axe ready.

As I got closer, I saw that it was Attalos, Thessalos’ ringleader, about to kill my best friend. I dove at him, not even thinking as I swung the axe.

Someone got to him first. A javelin came out the front of Attalos’ chest, blood spraying from the open wound. Then my axe struck. The swing cut through his left leg, and severed halfway through the bone of his right. He dropped like a rag doll.

* * *

Angelina stood over Attalos, her hands gripping the spear she had run him through with. He was twitching as she twisted it. It had been a bad day. His hand had been cut and mangled, the pain excruciating. He’d been impaled by this girl, this girl who he had practically owned, and had taken whenever he had so desired, each cutting his spinal cord in half. He crumpled forward, only to feel an axe take his left leg, then rip through the flesh of his right, the naked bone cracking in half under his weight.

“I hate you. You deserve worse than this.”

Angelina lifted the spear, and then ran it through his black heart.

* * *

The battle came to an end soon afterwards. The remaining of the mercenaries Thessalos sent to Myrmidonia was killed off by the fury of her citizens. This is what happens after hundreds of years of caging a people. Eventually they break loose, and they fight back.

The most amazing thing? Not one villager died. Sure, many were wounded, but not one person had died. People were calling it a miracle, saying that my leadership had led us to victory. No, it hadn’t. We’d had victory, but it was because these people wanted it more than anything in the world. The fact that I had been here was a coincidence, nothing more.

But I couldn’t tell them that.

I couldn’t tell them I wasn’t their hero. They just wanted to be happy right now. I saw no reason to stop them.

I was sitting at bedside with Sextus while they celebrated in the streets. He was going in and out of consciousness. “The doctors told me they’ve done all they could. I’m still scared. As much as I hate to say it, you’re my best friend you stupid son of a bitch. I don’t want you to die. I got you into this mess, and I don’t want it on my conscience that I got one of us killed.

“Please don’t die, Sextus.”

My eyes were starting to water, a sob coming out, when I forced a laugh, and wiped my eyes, cursing myself. “You dumbass, see what you did? Gods. I am so going to kick your ass when you wake up.”

I looked up, Angelina was standing in the doorway.

“Hey, it’s not what you think - -“

She smiled warmly at me, and walked over to me, kissing me gently on the forehead. “Of course not, Marcus.”

“I mean, I’d just feel like a dick if I got him killed is all and - -“

“I understand,” she spoke gently, and put her hand on my chin, kneeling down to be at my level. She leaned in, and whispered softly, “Thank you.”

Then Angelina of Myrmidonia kissed me, and I kissed her back.

That was when the screaming started.

* * *

Thessalos the Great stood in the streets of Myrmidonia, dressed in pure white armor, fury in his eyes. He was flanked by what pitiful remains there were of his mercenaries and guards. One of them set fire to a house to silence the celebrations and terrify the people.

“You think you can fight me, you pitiful pieces of shit? You sons of wh*res? You, who think that they can stand up to the blood of a true Thessalian Myrmidon! I will slaughter every last one of you like animals, and then I will have your corpses raped and pissed on!”

He made a broad gesture to the crowd that had only moments ago been celebrating in the streets. “Kill them. Now.”

The mercenaries raised up their spears, and prepared to charge into the crowd.

“Hey, dipsh*t.”

Thessalos spun around, and looked me straight in the eye. I stood in front of the mass of people, my arms folded across my chest. “You… you are the insolent who dared to give these curs the idea to fight me?!” He walked towards me, and put his finger right against my chest. “Do you know who I am?!”

I stayed silent, not breaking my stare.

“Do you know who I am, dog?!”

I brought myself up to my full height, and glared directly at him. “F*ck. You.”

Thessalos slapped me in the face. “You think you can fight me!? Well do it. Right now. We shall duel to the death! I will kill you myself, c*cksucker. I will kill you with my bare hands. We shall duel like the glory days of old!”

He raised his fists, stepping back into a fighting stance.

I punched him and broke his nose.

A thick jet of blood shot out, and streamed down his face, staining the bright white armor of his, splattering all over and turning it a dark red.

I grabbed him by the wrist, and started to strike at his elbow joint until I felt it snap underneath my chops. He cried out in pain and pushed me off. I allowed him to get some distance and stepped back. Decimus might be the fighter of us, but I still know how to beat the f*ck out of a bastard like this.

“I’ll f*cking kill you!” He screamed at me, and raised his right arm up at me. From underneath his sleeve, a dagger emerged, moving faster than I could reach. The streets of Myrmidonia echoed with blade piercing flesh.

I looked down, and watched the blood run down my chest. I swallowed hard as it started to hurt. It started to hurt worse than anything has ever hurt in my entire life. He drove the knife into my chest up to the hilt, and I think he stabbed me in the heart.

I fell down, everything starting to go dark fast. I laid on my back as Thessalos the Great stood over me, and pulling his knife out of my chest and putting the blade to my throat. “Cheater…” I muttered.

“I don’t care,” he replied. He dragged the knife across my neck.

My hand sprung out, and grabbed at the knife, slicing up my hand, but knocking the weapon away. I pulled him down onto his knees, and used the momentum to pick myself up. My right hand went to my calf, and I unsheathed the short hold-out knife that was still strapped onto me from the battle. With a quick motion, it was in out of the hidden scabbard, and in my hand.

My left hand pulled hard on the Don’s hair, and he started to beg for mercy as I put the knife to his neck. I guess I didn’t hear it. I slashed his throat, and red sprayed from the deep, open wound. His eyes rolled back up into his head, and he fell forward into a pool of his own gushing blood.

Thessalos the Great was dead.

I turned around, staggering as my head spun, the pain unbearable, running up and down my body. All I wanted to do was curl up into a ball and scream my heart out. I pointed the bloody, dripping knife at Thessalos’ men, waving it at them. “Who’s next?”

I dropped the knife, and fell sideways.

And so, Marcus Quintus, the savior of Myrmidonia, was slain.

* * *

“Bad story.”

“What?!”

“Bad story.”

Marcus Quintus cried out in indignation, before groaning in pain, and falling back limp onto the bed he was laying in. “Oh c’mon, Decimus, that was the best adventure I’d ever had. With a great ending. You know you were choked up when you all thought I died nobly and all.”

Decimus ran his fingers through his hair in annoyed frustration as he looked at his two bedridden, bandaged up friends. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“What do you mean, ‘you’re kidding me?’ That was a great story!”

Sextus decided to speak this time, “You have to admit, Decimus, it was a really good story. He even added all that drama and made you think that both of us died. Really touching when you finally broke down like a little girl because you thought I was going to die, Quintus. That was great.”

Quintus whipped his pillow at his friend, who howled in pain as he tried to avoid it, forgetting that he’d been wounded far too many just five days ago. “Jack-off.”

Decimus folded his arms across his chest, “So tell me why I needed to come all the way to Achaea?”

Quintus gestured at both himself and Sextus. “We’re a little banged up.”

“Naturally,” Decimus sighed. “All right, let’s go, lackeys. I want to go home. I’ve been here long enough.” He turned around and started to walk out.

“He’s such a jerk,” Quintus noted to Sextus. “I don’t know why we hang out with him.”

“Fair question, Quintus, my boy, fair question.”

* * *

Sextus Valerius leaned up against the side of his horse, and started to slowly climb into the saddle. “Oh gods above, this is going to hurt,” he muttered.

“Yep,” Decimus replied.

“Don’t break him now,” a lovely young woman looking almost identical to Angelina except for a scar running down the side of her face, said to Decimus. “He’s a keeper. Real handy in a fight.”

Decimus flashed a grin at Mariana, and laughed, “Yeah, that’s why I keep him around. Real jerk otherwise.”

She walked over to the near crippled Valerius, and kissed him softly on the forehead. “Yes, a real jerk.”

Marcus walked out on crutches, moving even slower than Sextus.

Then again, I suppose it was for good reason. The entire town of Myrmidonia had turned out to see their honest to gods savior up and about again after being in and out of consciousness for five days. And he had Angelina, the girl, holding him up and helping him walk.

“You never did say how you survived all of this, Quintus,” Decimus told him. “I thought you got stabbed through the heart?”

“C’mon, after all this time, after all the crazy adventures we’ve been on, you think that’s going to kill me?”

“What’s the real explanation?”

He grinned, and gave his chest a little pat. “Guess this old armor really might’ve been a Myrmidon’s. The knife stopped right against my breast bone.”

“You lucky son of a b*tch,” Decimus said as he laughed. “You would’ve been better off taking it through the heart though, that hurts like a mother.”

He let out a grunt as he started to climb up onto his horse. “You’re telling me.” He started to lower himself into the saddle, but Angelina held him up. “What is it, Angelina?”

“You’re… you’re actually leaving?”

“Well yeah… I’ve got to go back home, you know?”

“But you are home now. It’s… it’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

He smiled, a little confused, but not wanting to disappoint the girl, “What do you mean?”

Angelina bit her lip, unable to get it out as she stammered.

“What she means is,” Mariana started off, “The way we knew you were the savior was that the eldest of the Myrmidon daughters fell in love with you. You must get married now. It’s the final part of the legend.”

“Oh. Well hmm… yes… Marriage… Well you see, honey, I’m not really the type of guy who… you know… and we just met and… Umm…” He cleared his throat, and smiled warmly at the young woman, taking her hand in his. “Angelina… you are a beautiful girl, an amazing person, and really I would love to - - Ride!”

Quintus kicked his horse, and the trusty Macedonian stead rushed off, Sextus and Decimus following quickly there after, a cloud of dust following the three adventurers.

The three horsemen flew out of the humble little village of Myrmidonia, leaving behind the twin sisters, Mariana, and Angelina, the woman who fell in love with Marcus Quintus. The tiny town slowly faded into the horizon as an angry mob tried to rush after them, quickly changing their minds that Quintus was no longer a legendary savior, but just a guy who couldn’t settle down with a pretty girl and get married.

“If you’re ever in Megara, look me up! We’ll do this again sometime!” Quintus shouted back to Angelina as he turned his head back to the city. “You really are great, kiddo!”

Gaius Decimus shook his head at Quintus as they rode away, noting that some things never change.

“I’ll always love you, baby!” Quintus shouted back to the village. And then he turned his head back ahead, a sudden melancholy come over his face, his voice low, “I’ll come back, I promise…”

Decimus raised an eyebrow as he looked at Quintus. Then, just as suddenly, Marcus raised his head back up, a grin upon his face.

“Come on now, you women! The last one back to Megara buys drinks for a month!” He spurred his horse, and charged ahead of Sextus and Decimus. For an instant, Decimus thought he saw tears in his friend’s eyes.

“Let’s go, Decimus! You want that bastard to think he’s better than us!” Sextus laughed, snapping the reins of his horse and chasing after.

Marcus Quintus, the lady’s man, the joker, the fool, the drinker… The hero.

Yes, Decimus thought to himself, some things never change.

[This message has been edited by Vasta (edited 08-30-2005 @ 03:31 AM).]