Stories For the Damned

At the Temple of Asklepios (Kassandra ACO)

"Are you in need of a misthios?"

A woman's voice called to you from under the veranda of the Temple of Asklepios. She leaned against one of the pillars, head tilted down, shadows cast over her face.

"Miss?" you questioned, not used to a mercenary calling out to people, much less you. But the stranger just negated that self-known fact and spoke again.

"Aye, do you have a job that needs to be done?"

The glint of her sword caught your eye, the sharp metal making you hesitate a bit, but still you stepped forward, drawn by her alluring tone. "No..."

She scoffed, in uncrossing her arms, stepping forward. Now you could see her face. A sharp jawline accentuated by thin lips and a sharper nose. Her eyes were brown like the richest chocolates.

You knew her mercenary armour showed her experience level, so why was she hassling commoners for drachmae?

"Do you know of anyone in this...crowded place that might be in need of someone?"

You frowned at her tone. "No, misthios. We don't get many of you here, if any at all."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She stepped closer, clearly interpreting your words as offensive as she gripped the hilt of her scabbard.

"I-I only meant...mercenaries are scarce in Attika."

"Clearly..." she muttered, standing down.

Perhaps you were a fool but you inquired more about her frustration. "Whats...what's wrong, misthios?"

Her glare burned you but still, she spoke of her troubles. "I came to Athens thinking people would be in need of someone like me. After all, what business is more lucrative than war?"

She had a good point about that.

"-But when I step off my ship all I see are poor merchants and disgruntled soldiers, both sick of their generals and leaders. But neither too keen on getting rid of them."

"It seems like that...yes..."

Her expression then turned from borderline aggressive to at least sort of thoughtful or at least questioning. "How long have you lived here?"

"15 years, I-I'm from Agenia."

"Ha!" She laughed while still seeming unamused. "From Spartan rule to Athenian. Tell me, which do you prefer?"

"Well..." you sighed and sat upon the Temple steps. "Spartans are ruthless. Brave, but ruthless and truth be told, blind fools."

"Hm..."

You glanced at her but continued..."They fight to win and nothing more. Power and death is the only way they know. Athens? They are more or less the same...just maybe more bossy."

You both were quiet as your comment hung in the air.

"What is your name?" She murmured under her breath, so low you almost missed it.

"...Y/n."

"Y/n...I am Kassandra."

You looked up at her while she stared straight ahead, watching the docks. Kassandra...It fit her. Beautiful and strong. "Where are you from, Kassandra?"

"Kephallonia."

"A plague sweeps the land, did you know? Something of the blood."

She was quiet for a moment. As if it was personal. "I know."

"Perhaps one day when it is better, you will go back? I hope...I hope your family is well."

"I don't have one."

She was very blunt and somehow her forwardness made you feel worse.

"Oh, I- I apologize-"

"No matter," she quickly dismissed, clearly not wanting to discuss the matter. "Where do you live?"

"Uhm..." You considered giving such sensitive information to her but then, as if she could read your mind, she gave you a reason to tell the truth.

"If I wanted to rob you, I would have done it already."

So, again, she did have a point.

"Greater Athens, Poor Market."

Now, you weren't looking directly at her, but you still sense her gaze upon you. Even the concerned look on her features. "It's...not safe there..."

You shrugged your shoulders.

"I wanted something different from Agenia. Perhaps this is what I was destined for."

"A sickly, sorry excuse for a town in a 'great' city?"

You scoffed, why did she care so much? "Where do you live, misthios?"

"Erm...On my boat?"

You stood, a little peeved. Now that was a sorry excuse for a home. "And how often are you really there?"

"One- two...days- at-"

"That's your crew's home, not yours, misthios."

"My crew-"

"Probably isn't even yours!"

Now she was pissed. "My- my lieutenant, Barnabas-"

"Probably runs the crew himself, he probably owns the entire ship!"

"Like you're any better! Why did you run from Agenia? You could have married a soldier and had all the stuff you've ever asked from the gods!"

"Maybe I wanted to marry someone like you! Someone who'd leave me poorer than I already was!"

"Me-?" She breathed, taking a step back. Arms crossing once more, guard higher than ever. "I would not," she said quietly. "I am not some...deserter."

Gods, here you were, arguing with a stranger, a mercenary in a place where she doesn't belong. A person who has probably killed more people than she cares to remember.

But were you truly any better?

Truthfully, you had left Agenia to escape from the borning island and stodgy life that you lead. You fled for adventure and anything but what you had back 'home'.

Now you searched wrecked ships for anything you could sell and use to support yourself.

You sighed. "I am sorry, misthios. Perhaps it was wrong of me to insult your life as you did mine."

"I'm sorry too." She calmed a bit.

You were going to say more, but a man in uniform called out to her. "Misthios!"

"Theres your job," you said and as she headed off with a nod she turned one more time to you.

"Chaire, Y/n."