How do you think?

Chapter 11: "Chains of Fate"

"I can’t believe I agreed to this," I mutter, approaching the Golden Company camp. The horse’s hooves crunch softly against the dirt as I pat its neck. "Let’s just hope Ikaro’s plan works, right buddy?" Sereno, our cargo horse, snorts softly as if in agreement, his saddlebags loaded with spare weapons.

Flashback to Ikaro explaining the plan.
"It’s pretty simple. We use Kayn as bait," Ikaro declares with a grin, his confidence palpable.
"Why would you even do that? And why do you think it will work?" Iris’s brows furrow, her tone laced with skepticism, though her trust in her brother keeps her from outright dismissing the idea.
"Because Kayn has that good guy face, and I’ve seen him barter like a master merchant back in Helos. He’s perfect," Ikaro replies, leaning back with a triumphant air.
"Yeah, but what if they don’t even speak our language?" Iris counters. "And we can’t send him with Dawn."
"Can I have an opinion on this plan?" I interject, attempting to assert some authority.
"No," both siblings say in unison, their synchronized response leaving me momentarily speechless.
"You’re right, though. We can’t send him with that sword; it’ll be too obvious." Ikaro begins pacing, pondering his next move. "Alright, here’s the plan. Kayn, you’ll take Sereno. He’s the most convincing cargo horse we have, so they’ll believe you’re a trader. We’ll load him up with some spare weapons from the cache to make it look legit. Meanwhile, Iris and I will sneak into position. She’ll provide cover with her bow while I get close enough to charge in and pass you Dawn. We take them down, free the slaves, and get out."
"Just like that?" Iris smirks, one brow raised at Ikaro’s unshakeable confidence.
"Just like that," he says, flashing a grin.
"So, I’m basically bait?" I ask, trying to piece together the plan’s finer points—and my unfortunate role in it.
"Yep. We’re going to make you nice and fat for the sharks," Iris teases, her smirk sharp as a blade.
"Damn it. Alright, I’ll do it," I concede, though my tone betrays a hint of ****.
"Excellent! I’ll get Sereno ready," Ikaro says, bounding off toward the horses with palpable enthusiasm.

Minutes later, Sereno is saddled and ready. I’m adjusting the straps when Iris approaches, her arms on her hips and an almost playful smirk softening her face.
"Stay safe out there, will you?" she says, her voice steady but tinged with genuine concern.
"Hmm, I don’t know. I kind of like being the center of danger," I reply with a grin, leaning into the banter.
"Of course you do. Always charging headfirst with your head up your ass into the worst situations possible," she shoots back, rolling her eyes. Then her expression shifts, becoming softer. "Just… be safe. Please?"
For a moment, the teasing fades, and I meet her gaze, nodding earnestly. "I will."
"Good," she says, turning on her heel. "Because I’ll be really pissed if our chosen-by-the-gods dies to a Persian blade."
As she walks away, her hips sway in a way that draws my attention despite the gravity of the moment. "Well," I murmur to myself with a wry grin, "at least if I die, I had one final good sight at that ass.”
Climbing onto Sereno, I give the reins a light tug and begin the slow, deliberate approach toward the Persian camp, my heart pounding in my chest.
____
End of flashback.

“Athena, if you’re listening, sorry for my stupidity,” I mutter under my breath, guiding Sereno closer to the camp. The sight of smoke curling into the air from their fire only makes my stomach tighten further.
I square my shoulders and **** a grin, raising my voice in a cheery, exaggerated tone. “HELLO THERE, FELLOW TRAVELERS!” I call out with my best attempt at sounding like a jovial merchant. “HOW ARE YOU ALL DOING ON THIS FINE MORNING?”
The reaction is immediate. All five mercenaries spring to their feet, their curved swords drawn in a flash of steel. Their gazes are sharp and suspicious, their postures tense.
“Whoa, easy there!” I say, holding my hands up in mock surrender. “I’m not here to cause any trouble.” Despite my attempt at confidence, my thoughts betray me. “IKARO IF I FUCKING DIE LIKE THIS I’M GOING TO HAUNT YOU FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE.”.
The leader of the group steps forward. He’s tall, with broad shoulders and a distinct, polished armor that sets him apart from the others—clearly marking him as someone of higher rank within the Golden Company. His expression is anything but welcoming.
“What are you doing here?” he demands, his voice low and edged with menace. His thick Persian accent lingers on every word, dripping with suspicion. “You’d better have a damn good reason for disturbing our lunch.”
“Please, I mean no harm,” I reply quickly, my tone light and non-threatening. My gaze flickers to the cage nearby, where a group of slaves huddle together, their eyes hollow with exhaustion and fear. Every fiber of my being wants to free them immediately, but I can’t risk it—not yet.
“I saw a group of fine gentlemen like yourselves,” I continue, forcing a wide smile, “and thought you might be interested in some trade.”
The leader’s eyes narrow. “No, we’re not,” he snaps, his distrustful glare cutting into me like a blade.
I feel the air grow heavier as the swords inch closer to my throat. My mind races, searching for anything to keep this charade going. Then I notice it—a mercenary standing to the side, his weapon catching the light. The blade is dull, its edge chipped and worn. That’s my opening.
“But gentlemen,” I say, my voice taking on a conspiratorial tone, “I couldn’t help but notice… some of you might be in need of an upgrade.”
The leader’s expression darkens, but I press on, nodding toward the mercenary with the rusty sword. “That blade of yours,” I say, addressing him directly, “looks like it’s seen better days.”
The mercenary stiffens, his posture betraying his embarrassment as the leader’s eyes shift toward him.
“What about it?” the mercenary growls defensively, gripping the hilt of his weapon tighter. “It can still kill.”
“Of course it can,” I say smoothly, nodding in agreement. “But for how long? Another year? A month? …A day? I can fix that.”
The words hang in the air, and I notice a flicker of interest in the mercenaries’ eyes, though the leader’s scowl remains unmoved.
“I have some excellent swords and wares,” I continue, gesturing toward Sereno’s saddlebags. “High quality, fit for warriors like yourselves. But I’ll only show them to you if you lower those swords and trust that I’m here as a trader, not an enemy.”
The leader steps closer, his blade hovering dangerously close to my throat. The cold steel sends a chill down my spine, but I **** myself to hold his gaze, refusing to flinch.
One of the mercenaries approaches him, whispering something in their native language. The leader’s jaw tightens as he considers the suggestion. After a tense moment, he exhales sharply through his nose and lowers his weapon slightly.
“Very well,” he says grudgingly. “You’ll get your chance to trade, Greek. But make no mistake—one false move, and I’ll chop your head off myself.”
“I promise,” I say with a quick nod, raising my hands in a gesture of peace. “A trader always keeps his word.”
As I lower my hands and start unstrapping the bags from Sereno, I can feel the weight of their stares. The slaves in the cage watch silently, their hope so faint it’s barely there. But I know, if this plan works, that hope won’t die today.
I lead the mercenaries to Sereno, opening the saddlebags and displaying the weapons. Their eyes gleam with greed as they inspect the steel, running their fingers along the blades and weighing them in their hands. For a moment, the scene almost feels calm—almost.
“You have some good steel here,” the leader finally says, his tone grudging but tinged with approval.
“Thank you. I aim to please,” I reply, forcing a polite smile while my fists clench at my sides. My gaze flickers toward the cage. The slaves inside look frail and terrified, their chains rattling faintly as they shift nervously. My stomach churns, but I can’t act yet. Not yet.
“But…” The leader turns sharply, his hand suddenly on his sword. He pulls it free in one smooth motion, the blade glinting menacingly in the sunlight. “I still don’t trust you.”
My heart pounds, but I raise my hands in a mock gesture of surrender. “Seriously? What was it—my hat?” I quip, masking my nerves with a smirk.
“No,” the leader growls, stepping closer. “I just don’t like paying.” His gaze drifts to the cage, and his lips curl into a cruel grin. “I prefer taking what I want.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of movement—an arrow nocked, drawn, and ready. Iris. She’s in position, her eyes steady and full of fire.
“You know,” I say, my smirk widening despite the blade inches from my throat, “I tried giving you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe you weren’t just another worthless piece of trash. But nope—slavers are always the same. Pieces of shit.”
The leader snarls, his knuckles whitening on the hilt of his sword.
“Anyhow… IRIS!” I shout.
The twang of her bowstring is followed by the sickening thunk of an arrow finding its mark. One of the mercenaries drops instantly, clutching at the shaft protruding from his neck before collapsing in a heap.
Chaos erupts.
“CHARGE!” Ikaro’s voice bellows from the treeline as he sprints toward the remaining mercenaries, his spear glinting in the sunlight.
“شرکت نگهبان! (Company on guard!)” the leader roars, rallying his men as they scramble to respond.
“Kayn, catch!” Ikaro shouts, tossing my sword.
I snatch Dawn from the air, the familiar weight of the blade settling in my hand like an old friend. I whirl to face the leader, meeting his furious glare with a grin.
“Shall we dance?” I say, raising my sword.
The leader roars in rage, charging at me with his curved blade. Our swords clash in a spray of sparks, the **** of the impact reverberating up my arm. He’s skilled—every strike is precise, every movement calculated. But I’ve danced this dance before. I parry, dodge, and counter, the rhythm of battle as natural to me as breathing.
Meanwhile, Ikaro throws himself into the fray, wielding Arbos’s shield and spear with practiced precision. He blocks a downward strike from one mercenary, deflecting the blow with his shield before driving his spear into the man’s throat. Blood sprays as the mercenary collapses, leaving Ikaro to turn toward the remaining two.
Iris, perched high above, provides cover with deadly efficiency. Her arrows fly true, one after another. The first strikes a mercenary in the shoulder, the second in the leg, and the third—a clean headshot—ends him instantly.
The last mercenary hesitates, his courage faltering as he glances around at the bodies of his comrades. He drops his sword and turns to flee, but he doesn’t get far. Ikaro hurls his spear with a shout, the weapon sailing through the air and striking the man square in the back. He falls, pinned to the ground and motionless.
“Looks like it’s just you and me,” I say, circling the leader as the battlefield falls silent.
“Bastard!” he snarls, his voice thick with rage. He lunges at me with renewed fury, his strikes faster and more **** than before.
I dodge to the side, narrowly avoiding a slash aimed at my head. His movements grow sloppier with each attack, frustration clouding his judgment. I wait for the opening, the moment his guard drops.
It comes in a heartbeat.
I sidestep his next swing and pivot behind him, thrusting Dawn forward in a single, decisive motion. The blade pierces his back, sinking deep into his flesh. He gasps, the sound wet and ragged, before collapsing to his knees.
I step back, pulling my sword free as he falls forward, blood pooling beneath him. His chest heaves once, twice, and then he’s still.
The battlefield is quiet now, save for the distant crackle of the mercenaries’ dying fire. I glance toward the cage, where the slaves stare in stunned silence, their chains clinking faintly as they shift.
It’s over. For now.

The battlefield quiets as the last echoes of the fight fade into the forest. My breath comes in short, ragged gasps, and I take a moment to steady myself. Dawn hangs heavy in my hand, its steel still slick with blood. I plant it into the dirt and lean on it slightly, letting the adrenaline ebb away.
Ikaro and Iris approach, their faces flushed from the fight. Ikaro, of course, is the first to speak.
“I think someone should thank my brilliant mind,” he says, flashing a wide grin at his sister.
Iris rolls her eyes, though there’s the faintest hint of a smile on her lips. “I think you should thank Kayn,” she counters. “He managed to give us enough time and provided the perfect distraction.”
“And I took down this asshole,” I add, giving the leader’s corpse a solid kick for good measure.
“Oh, come on! It was a good plan,” Ikaro retorts, crossing his arms and pouting slightly, though there’s no malice in his tone.
“Yeah, it was,” I admit with a smirk, “but next time, you’re the bait.”
I wipe the blood from Dawn’s blade, the metal catching the sunlight once again. Sliding it back into its sheath, I turn toward the **** cage. The sight of their sunken faces and trembling forms twists something deep in my chest. Without another word, I stride over, grab the lock, and break it with a swift strike from the hilt of my sword.
The door creaks open, and I gesture for them to come out. “Go on,” I say, my voice softer now. “You’re free.”
For a moment, they don’t move—too shocked or too scared to believe it. Then a man steps forward, his chains clinking faintly. He’s older, with streaks of gray in his hair, and his hands tremble as he reaches out toward me.
“Thank you, kind sir. Thank you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.
I offer him a small smile and help him down from the cage. One by one, the others follow, their movements hesitant at first but growing more confident with each step.
As the group gathers, I kneel beside the leader’s corpse, rummaging through his belongings. My fingers close around a heavy pouch, and I pull it free. It jingles with the unmistakable sound of coins.
“Here,” I say, handing the bag of gold to the older man. “It’s not much, but it’ll help you get started.”
His eyes widen as he accepts it, holding it as if it’s the most precious thing in the world. “Zeus bless you,” he says, his voice trembling with gratitude. “You are too kind.”
I watch as he turns to the others, calling them to follow. The group begins to move, their steps quicker, their shoulders lighter. One by one, they disappear into the forest, the older man carrying a young girl in his arms. She clings to him tightly, her small hands wrapped around his neck.
Beside me, Iris watches them go, her expression unreadable. After a long moment, she speaks.
“We did good here,” she says quietly. Her voice is steady, but there’s a note of hope, perhaps even pride, in her words. Her gaze lingers on the father and daughter until they vanish from sight.
I nod, glancing at her. “Yeah, we did,” I say softly.
“I just hope they’ll be okay,” Iris adds, her brows furrowing slightly.
“They will,” Ikaro says with confidence, clapping a hand on his sister’s shoulder. His grin is as wide as ever. “They’re free now. That’s what matters.”

As the last of the freed slaves disappeared into the forest, I turned back to the camp, my eyes catching a faint glint of metal behind the now-empty cage. Something was there—something we hadn’t seen from our hiding spot earlier.
Curiosity piqued, we approached the second cage, and my grip instinctively tightened around Dawn’s hilt.
Unlike the crude **** cage, this one was different. The bars were thicker, the craftsmanship more refined. It seemed almost out of place in a camp like this, as though it belonged to a far wealthier or more organized group.
Inside sat a young woman. Her dark, short hair framed a face that was calm—eerily so, given the chaos that had erupted around her moments ago. She didn’t flinch, didn’t cry for help. She simply sat there, watching us with an air of quiet composure.
“A cage for a single person?” Iris asked, her voice laced with suspicion. “That’s... weird.”
“Look at the quality,” Ikaro added, running his fingers along the edge of the bars. “It’s a lot better than the other cage. Like... a lot better.” His tone darkened as he stepped back. “This isn’t just any prisoner.”

“I don’t understand” Iris says trying to fit it all together “Why are they carrying her separately?”
My eyes stayed fixed on the woman. There was something about her—something unsettling and yet... familiar.
Then she moved. Slowly, she stood, brushing the dust from her tunic as though this were the most ordinary moment in the world. Her gaze swept over each of us before settling on me.
A small, knowing smile tugged at her lips.
“I was wondering when you’d show up,” she said, her voice calm yet resonant, each word laced with confidence. Her dark eyes locked with mine, and I felt a chill run down my spine.
“Kayn.”