"One aureus? Are you dreaming, good man? Do you run a secret griffin transport?" Sethion bristled at the outrageously inflated price.

  The merchant in front of him had a fat nose, which hung in the middle of his face like a spider in its web. Currently, he was in the process of wrinkling it.

  "Take it or leave it. The voyage is already overbooked. I would have to kick someone off for you, and that costs one golden coin."

  Sethion had arrived in Sinu only a few hours ago, most of which he had spent in a bath, scrubbing until his skin turned red.

  That's the fifth merchant offering such a ridiculous rate. Just what is happening?

  The young man tussled with the filled coin pouch in his pocket. The money wasn't the problem. The price was.

  Coins are the same to merchants as blood is to sharks.

  An old piece of advice his father had once given him a long time ago.

  He will milk me dry the moment I pay. The worst part is that I might pay anyway.

  Sethion scratched his chin in deep contemplation. His hopes of getting a better deal elsewhere had significantly dwindled over the last hour. He decided to make at least a token effort at bargaining.

  Pay or not pay.

  "What is it now? Either pay or get lost."

  The merchant flashed his surprisingly white and well-arranged teeth. The man clad in colorful robes already looked past the young man, scanning the crowd on the street through a window for other customers. Sethion rubbed his eyes, trying to redden them.

  "I don't understand," he said, sobbing. "Why is the trip so expensive now? It always used to be eight denarii. I just want to visit my grandmother."

  It wasn't his best acting, but still worth a try.

  The merchant's attention rapidly snapped back to Sethion, sensing the opportunity. A faux smile full of sympathy appeared on his lips.

  In a change of heart, the man offered Sethion a glass of wine, which he graciously accepted.

  The various rings on the merchant's fingers clicked against each other as he clapped once. In response, a servant stepped forward, pouring two glasses.

  Sethion tensed as he took a sip. His lie had worked a little too well, suspiciously well.

  Why can't anything ever just work?

  "Come sit with me." The merchant led him to a table with two cushioned seats. The young man followed right after him while his alarm bells started ringing.

  Sethion let the spicy fragrance of the wine roll over his tongue, an act which he promptly regretted. Instead of the usual mild aroma, this one had an overpowering taste.

  Cheap.

  The merchant laughed and petted his shoulder. Some of the disgust must have shown on his face.

  "It's an acquired taste. The name is Quintus."

  "Gaius," Sethion answered, stealing the name of a dead legionnaire.

  The two sat down next to another, and Sethion seriously considered what game the man was playing.

  "So, what brings you here, Gaius?"

  "It's a long story. Mainly studying, if you believe it."

  "A scholar then."

  "Somewhat." Sethion let Quintus jump to his own assumptions without bothering to correct them. He cleared his throat, swiftly taking hold of the conversation.

  "Do tell. Why have the prices for a ship to Cosa exploded?"

  Quintus raised an eyebrow.

  "You haven't heard? A bounty has been raised on information about a mining village in the area, more aurei than I have ever seen for such a thing. The docks are packed with treasure hunters and mercenaries, thinking they will find a mythical treasure."

  A cold shiver ran down Sethion's back.

  I might have been too slow. I need a ship to Cosa now.

  "At first, I mistook you as one of them." The merchant gave a wink.

  The young man inspected his latest plain clothing and skinny figure formed from over a year of neglect.

  Is he blind?

  "Ahhh, a misunderstanding then," he laughed.

  "Indeed, an unfortunate mistake on my part," Quintus latched onto the excuse.

  Sethion waved his hands.

  "Forgotten and forgiven."

  "So," Quintus leaned toward him. "You grew up in Cosa?"

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  Sethion took another sip of wine, swallowing without tasting it.

  "In the surrounding area. A beautiful place. The fresh food is incomparable to anything else." Sethion had been in the fort town once six summers ago. The place hadn't managed to leave much of an impression.

  The merchant rubbed his hands in excitement.

  "I think I have a proposition for you, my friend." The merchant let his pearly white teeth show.

  "Currently, I'm putting together my own troop. But my men mostly come from the south, you see."

  "You need a guide," the young patrician concluded.

  So, it's only overbooked for the wrong people.

  "Exactly." Quintus pointed his finger at Sethion, who in turn narrowed his eyes.

  "But why me? Cosa isn't a hamlet, and I have been away for a couple of years."

  The merchant shook his head.

  "No, no. Matter of fact, I have a guide already."

  What, didn't he just say the opposite?

  Perplexed, he looked at the merchant.

  "Don't fret, my good friend. Another local surely would aid the endeavor. And an additional pair of hands is always welcome."

  That bastard wants cheap labor.

  Quintus took the silence as a form of agreement.

  "For your help during the voyage and, let's say, five weeks after, I would cut your price to only five denarii."

  Wait, I still pay him?

  Sethion seriously considered the offer. Plain extortion, that encapsulated its content. Even sending an unpaid servant would cost the man more. He had to force himself not to accept it in a heartbeat.

  It would make it harder for pursuers to trace my steps. Less suspicious to travel that way.

  "Rations included?"

  "Naturally."

  "How about three weeks after and eight denarii?"

  "Sixteen."

  "Ten."

  "Twelve. You want to see your grandmother, do you?"

  "I do. Twelve is acceptable. How many men have you hired?"

  "You will be the fourteenth."

  "Fighters?"

  "Ten."

  "Fast transport ship?"

  "The quickest in Sinu."

  "Travel to the mining town?"

  "Horseback."

  "When do we leave?"

  "Sunrise tomorrow."

  "Where?"

  "Sixth ship on the first dock. Ask for Titus."

  Both shook hands, and Sethion accepted that he had been swindled and squeezed for free labor. Still, money was only a concern if you could spend it.

  The runaway patrician retracted his hand.

  "Quintus, is there a weaponsmith or store you could recommend?"

  The merchant paused, surprised by the request. He regarded the scrawny, self-introduced scholar with a curious look. The boy didn't appear strong by any means.

  "What does a scholar want with a weapon?" Quintus sounded more curious than anything else.

  "Let that be my worry. Let's say I had some bad experiences. So, recommendations?"

  "Actually, I have my own..."

  "No."

  "I can assure you, my men are more than capable..."

  "Not my concern."

  The man sighed.

  "Your price range?"

  "Focus on the quality. I will decide later."

  "Via sol V makes the best weaponry. Though it might be outside your monetary resources." Quintus gave Sethion, who had just haggled over denarii, a meaningful look.

  "Via Claudius V and VII would be the best for you."

  "I see." A hint of recognition danced through the young man's eyes. He gave Quintus a brief nod.

  "Pleasure doing business with you."

  Sethion gulped down the rest of his wine and promptly left the building before the merchant would charge him for the cheap wine, too.

  Out of the door, Sethion burst onto the crowded streets of Sinu. First, he noticed the sound. Street vendors hawked their spices and food with an intensity as if they were in a colosseum. Cartwheels screeched, scraping over the rough basalt, navigating through the masses at perilous speeds. Servants' hurried steps echoed off the floor as they carried deliveries to their masters.

  Next came touch, as Sethion became part of the crowd. Skillfully, he shoved his way through, only avoiding another person when it came close to a head-on collision. His hand held an iron grip around his pouch to combat pickpockets. The noise, the smell, and the intensity of the experience dwarfed the distant estate. A smile tugged at Sethion's lips.

  It feels good to be home.

  The folded contract, hidden in his inner pocket, brushed against his rib, and a warm feeling spread through his veins, rising against the constant torment of his sickness. He was at death's door with less than a year left to live, perhaps a wanted thief, and signed off as free labor. Things were looking up for Sethion.

  He went straight for the most expensive store Quintus had listed. He had little hope of finding what he needed anywhere but in the stores dealing with the most affluent customers. He passed a few beggars accompanied by stray dogs and cats, begging and scavenging for food. A couple openly showcased their missing limbs, presumably the result of one of the last wars with Farros. One of the less successful campaigns of the iron general.

  A toothless man initiated eye contact. Sethion ignored him, long used to the sight when leaving the wealthier parts of Sinu. Still, it left a sour taste in his mouth to see people who had given everything they had for the empire to be ruthlessly discarded. It was a result of the failed expansions not providing enough land to reward soldiers with. Not with the greedy fingers of the aristocracy in the pie, at least.

  Sethion kept going, drawing closer to his destination with every step.

  The beggar's life expectancy most likely vastly outstripped his, and he was not in a position to give out alms without worry.

  As the young patrician continued his journey, the roads widened, the presence of guards increased, and the first private gardens appeared. The fenced insulas stood out like an oasis in the desert as one of the few green spots in the city. They were a sight that had greeted him often in the past, which was not necessarily a good thing for someone on the run. Still, he sincerely doubted that news had already reached the city if the patriarch even wanted to publicize that a sick teenager was running around with a contract.

  Six streets down, and I would hit the family compound.

  Sethion kept his head low without looking up, his hands close to the body, moving with purpose. A few wary gazes washed over him, but he wasn't stopped. The thief wouldn't have made it this far had he not washed his attire and body first.

  It was risky to come here.

  Sethion's eyes darted from person to person in fear of recognizing a face. He measured his steps, keeping them always three stones long while portraying calm busyness.

  Then it happened. A single jolt ran down Sethion's left leg before his brain could even compute the situation. Among the myriad of different faces, a familiar one appeared. A slim nose dangled over full lips and under small eyes. These features belonged to a tall, young man covered in an elusive toga accompanied by multiple servants.

  Sethion recognized the other patrician instantly.

  Caius Junius.

  Both of them had attended and mingled at various ceremonies and feasts. Caius hadn't struck Sethion as the brightest candle on the chandelier, but as his family ran a third over the silver trade, not remembering him would have been ill-advised. Sethion desperately hoped the same didn't apply to the other party.

  The runaway did nothing, outwardly at least. He didn't dare to change his trajectory or tempo and draw attention. Roughly thirty steps separated him from the other noble. Every blink, every moment, shrunk that distance. Saliva gathered in his mouth, and Sethion swallowed nervously.

  What do I say? Play dumb? That would be too suspicious. He shouldn't know anything. It will be fine.

  The two passed each other, just a few steps kept them apart. Sethion could reach out with his hand, and they would meet. He did, of course, no such thing.

  Caius disappeared from view. Sethion let out a deep breath and quickened his steps.

  Another close call.

  Then, a voice cut through the crowd, more a shout than anything else. The tone came out joyful, but the single word could have been pulled straight from the young man's nightmares.

  "Sethion!"

  Sethion Mercor shuddered and stopped, visibly reacting to the name. A mistake, as his inner voice furiously screamed at him a moment later.

  Without much plausible deniability left, he turned with an almost natural smile.

  "Caius, my friend!"