Alpheo's foot sank into the scorching sand, the heat licking at his skin even through his new and yet worn leather soles. He exhaled slowly, dragging a hand across his sweat-slicked brow, before turning his gaze upward. The sun still hung high above them.
"We march until we find water," he said aloud, more to himself than to the men behind him. "I want our canteens full before nightfall. I clearly remember a water source close to here"
A murmur of discontent and tiredness rippled through the ranks.
He saw it in the way they shifted their weapons, in the way they stole glances at one another when they thought he wasn't looking.
He needed them. Every last one. He had not come this far to let his force crumble before reaching the gates of civilization.
The trail they left behind was marked in blood and flame. A shattered camp, stripped of its wealth and littered with the bodies of those tasked to defend it . Clio had urged him to take more, to empty the coffers and strip the tents bare.
"The fattest pig is the first to be slaughtered," he had told him. "Take everything, and they'll ride after us with their entire army. Take just enough, and they'll come limping, half-hearted and careless."
And so they had taken only what they needed. It would not spare them pursuit, but it would not delay them too long.
Still, Alpheo knew some riders would come. Honor demanded it. The shame of being struck by runaway slaves and outcasts was too great for the lords of the desert to stomach.
Let them come; now we have the means to defend ourselves
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he wondered idly how long a man could survive with his body buried in the scalding sand, his head the only thing left above ground. Would the heat or the thirst kill him first?
At one point, he had even considered torching the rest of the supplies in the camp.
But he had resisted. The last thing he needed was for the main army, those in battle, to see smoke rising and believe the enemy had struck first.
They had time. The army was massive, slow-moving, weighed down by numbers and baggage trains. They had the advantage of speed.
And finally ,after what felt like an eternity, they reached the oasis.
The moment the water came into view, the men run forward, a collective sigh of relief escaping their parched lips. Some dropped to their knees at the edge of the pool, plunging their hands into the liquid as if it were treasure, drinking deep with trembling fingers. The horses shoved forward, eager and desperate, their nostrils flaring as they slurped noisily.
Alpheo remained standing, watching. He allowed himself a moment of stillness, the ghost of fatigue whispering at his bones, before shifting his gaze to the horizon. Close by, nestled beyond the dunes, was a village. It had been spared the wrath of war, its lords having paid off the emperor in gold rather than blood.
It could prove useful.
But first, he had to deal with more pressing matters.
The men sat in loose, weary clusters, their bodies slack with exhaustion, their minds dulled by heat and fatigue. Some leaned against their packs, others sprawled on the ground, letting their limbs sink into the sun-warmed sand. A few had stripped down to their waists, pouring water over their arms and necks in a desperate bid to cool their body, after all if there was a time to refresh themselves it was now.
Alpheo strode through them, his sharp eyes scanning the faces of his comrades. He spotted Jarza first, his expression tired but alert, even as water dripped down his brow. Clio and Egil were not far behind, rising the moment they saw Alpheo approach.
They knew what this meant.
As they moved away from the rest of the convoy, Egil's voice carried a hint of concern. "Is something wrong, Alph?"
Clio studied Alpheo's face, his eyes narrowing. "That look tells me you're planning something."
Alpheo's expression remained unreadable. "Not much," he said, "but I need your help with something."
"Go ahead," Egil urged
Alpheo turned to face his three most trusted allies. There was a weight in his gaze they had never seen before, something deeper than the simple ambition to live through this.
"Assuming we survive," he said, his voice measured, "assuming we escape the riders and make it out alive, what happens next?"
Silence settled over the group. A quiet, sobering realization dawned on them. None of them had thought that far ahead.
For years, their only goal had been to break free. They had been so consumed by the struggle for their lives that the future had been little more than a vague, unreachable dream. Now, standing at the edge of that future, they found it a gaping void, waiting to be filled.
Some had families they would never see again, either because their homes were too far away or because those same families had sold them into chains. Others had nothing but their names and their weapons.
Jarza broke the silence first. "Do you have a plan?"
"I do," Alpheo said. "We can't just wander the land as outlaws. Otherwise, we will find ourselves swinging in the gallows as bandits. The best way to do that is to become mercenaries; given our weaponry, that is the only sensible decision."
Egil raised an eyebrow. "Mercenaries?"
"We have weapons. We have horses. We look the part," Alpheo continued. "That alone is enough to get people to believe us. But I don't just want us to survive. I want more from this life."
A sly smile tugged at his lips as he studied their faces. "I have something bigger in mind. I've thought about it for a long time, and I believe it can work. But I can't do it alone. I need people I trust. I need you."
He let the words settle before taking a slow, deliberate breath.
"Follow me, and you won't just scrape by. You won't live like exiles, scavenging for coin and food. You will live in opulence and power. You will command, not serve. Stay with me, and I will make you rich. All I need from you is your trust and for yout o follow me.
Stand with me now, and I will lead you to more than just survival."
Egil let out a low scoff, but there was no mockery in his eyes. "If anyone else had said something this insane, I'd have knocked their teeth out for their stupidity," he muttered. "But from you… I believe it."
He exhaled and gave a sharp nod. "I'm in."
Jarza chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, I've got nothing to lose, and my sword's been restless." He grinned, tapping the hilt of his weapon. "I'm with you."
Clio, ever the silent observer, crossed his arms and looked at the others before nodding. "If we do this, we do it together," he said. "No turning back."
A rare warmth flickered in Alpheo's expression. Without another word, he reached forward, pulling them into a firm embrace.
They had fought beside each other, bled beside each other, endured chains, hunger, and death together. But now, they would rise together.