(PS: Please support me on patreon there 135+ chapters there and there also my new GoT: The True Dragon Fanfiction of Game of Thrones
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The pale gray light of dawn stretched across the harbor of Sami, casting long, shifting shadows over the water. The town was still waking up, but the docks were already alive with activity. The air was cool and crisp, carrying the strong scent of brine and drying fish.
Atlas was already awake.
On a quiet stretch of the pier, away from the cargo loaders, he moved through his morning routine. It was a mix of modern calisthenics and the fluid, lethal forms of combat he had refined over two lifetimes. Push-ups, forms, stretches—his body moved with a disciplined rhythm that ignored the chill of the morning air. His muscles felt taut and ready, the ache from sparring with Kassandra last night a satisfying reminder of his strength.
Nearby, the Adrestia bobbed gently in the water, her crimson sail furled tightly. Barnabas was barking orders, his voice raspy but cheerful, directing the crew.
"Heave, you lazy barnacles! That crate contains my best wine! Drop it and you'll be swabbing the deck with your tongues until they bleed, you hear me?"
The crew scrambled, loading sacks of grain, barrels of water, and crates of arrows into the ship's hold. The wooden plank groaned under the weight of the last large supply crate being winched aboard.
Atlas finished his final set, exhaling a long plume of white breath that instantly dissipated. He rolled his shoulders, feeling the tension of the previous night's duel fully gone. He grabbed his towel and headed for the public bathhouse for a quick wash.
The water was cold at this hour, but it woke him up fully. He washed away the sweat and sand, dressed in his clean tunic and armor, and walked back toward the ship, the smell of fresh bread from the market guiding him.
When he arrived at the Adrestia, the sun had just begun to peek over the hills, painting the eastern sky in soft pinks and oranges.
On the deck, a light sparring session was underway. Kassandra, Alexios, and Lukas were moving in a slow, controlled triangle, testing each other's guards without committing to full strikes, their movements fluid from the previous day's brutal lesson.
Phoibe was darting between them, swinging a wooden stick and making whoosh noises, mimicking the golden light of Atlas's shockwave from the night before.
"Good morning," Atlas called out, vaulting gracefully over the railing.
He held up a large woven basket. "Breakfast."
The sparring stopped instantly, replaced by the sound of three stomachs growling in unison.
"Finally!" Alexios groaned, sheathing his sword with a dramatic flourish. "I'm starving. I hope you brought a whole roasted boar and maybe a honey cake."
Lukas rubbed his stomach hopefully. "Or at least a leg of lamb? I can even settle for spiced goat."
Atlas set the basket down on a crate and pulled back the cloth.
It was bread. Just bread. Warm, fresh, smelling of yeast and fire—golden and crusty, but decidedly not meat.
Alexios stared at the loaf in his hand as if it had personally offended him. He turned to Atlas with an expression of betrayal. "Bread? Just bread? Atlas, where is the wine? Where is the meat? We are warriors preparing for battle, not Therapeutae or Cynics preparing for a fast!"
Lukas looked equally disappointed, holding the crust up to the sunlight. "It's a bit… dry," he commented sadly.
Atlas sighed, breaking a piece for Phoibe, who accepted it happily. He handed out the rest of the warm loaves.
"It's early morning," Atlas explained patiently, taking a bite of his own bread. "And we are sailing into a war zone. Megaris is a blockade. If you eat a heavy meal and drink wine now, you'll be sluggish when the fighting starts. Or you'll be vomiting over the side of the ship when the waves hit heavy seas."
Kassandra took a loaf and bit into it, chewing thoughtfully. "He's right, Alexios. Save the wine for celebrating after the battle. Light stomach, sharp mind." She shot a playful, longing look at Atlas. "Though I wouldn't complain about some cheese."
Alexios grumbled under his breath but stuffed the bread into his mouth. "Fine. Today is health and fitness. But tonight, I feast like Dionysus himself."
By the time they finished eating, wiping the crumbs from their faces, the last of the supplies were secured. Barnabas walked down from the helm, looking over his ship with pride, adjusting the leather straps of his jerkin.
"The Adrestia is heavy, but she's ready," the captain announced, slapping the wooden railing. "We are provisioned for a month. All we need is a destination." He looked at Atlas expectantly. "Do we set a course, Atlas?"
Atlas looked at the group—Kassandra checking the newly fixed Spear of Leonidas, Alexios arguing with Lukas about who got the biggest loaf, and Phoibe throwing bread crumbs to a persistent seagull.
He nodded, his gaze hardening slightly. "To Megaris. Immediately."
Barnabas grinned, turning to his crew with a booming voice.
"Alright, you sea dogs! Drop the lines! Raise the sails! To Megaris, and to glory!"
The crew moved with practiced efficiency, shouting calls back and forth. Ropes were cast off, the anchor chain rattled up from the deep with a wet clang, and the great crimson sail unfurled, catching the morning wind with a heavy thwump.
The ship began to drift away from the pier.
Just as the gap between the ship and the dock widened to more than a few feet, a frantic shout cut through the air.
"KASSANDRA! WAIT!"
Everyone turned.
Running down the dock, waving his arms frantically, was Markos. He nearly tripped over a loose coil of rope before catching himself.
Behind him was a small crowd—Drucilla wiping sawdust from her hands with a worried frown, Duris the merchant standing beside her, and Euterpe clutching a small, embroidered pouch. Old man Dimitri was there too, leaning heavily on his walking stick, waving his free hand high.
"Wait!" Markos yelled, skidding to a halt at the very edge of the pier. He was panting. "You were leaving without saying goodbye to your favorite business partner? I almost missed you!"
Kassandra rushed to the railing, a genuine smile breaking across her face.
"Markos!" she called back. "I thought you were still sleeping!"
"I was! But Drucilla woke me up!" Markos shouted, trying to project his voice across the widening water. Kassandra could see his eyes were shimmering, and his usually jovial expression was strained. He laughed loudly, trying to cover it up. "Who is going to save me when I make bad investments now, eh? You are abandoning me to my own genius ideas!"
Beside him, Drucilla shook her head fondly, holding up the small leather pouch. "Kassandra! Go, Don't mind this fool, It's your fate! I packed you a fresh needle and thread, and take care of those bows!"
Dimitri raised his stick, shouting toward the boys. "Atlas! Lukas! Alexios! Don't you dare die out there! You still owe me a drink when you return, and I expect it to be the good stuff!"
Alexios waved back enthusiastically, shouting over the rigging. "We'll bring you the finest wine from Megaris, old man! The finest!"
Lukas raised his hammer in a silent, solemn salute.
Markos sniffled loudly, then pointed an accusatory finger at Kassandra. "And you! Don't forget who taught you everything! …Well, maybe not fighting. But everything else! Chaos! Business! Grapes! And never trust a man selling a one-eyed goat!"
Kassandra felt a lump in her throat. For all his faults, Markos had been the one to find her on the beach all those years ago. He was a fool, a scoundrel, but he was family.
"Farewell, everyone!" Kassandra shouted, her voice thick with emotion. She pounded her fist over her heart. "I'll be back! And Markos—try to stay out of trouble while I'm gone! And please, pay your debts!"
Markos laughed, wiping his eyes openly now with the back of his hand. "No promises, my Misthios! No promises!"
The Adrestia picked up speed, the wind filling the sails with a deep sigh. The figures on the dock grew smaller and smaller until Markos was just a speck of waving white, and the rocky outline of Kephallonia became a faint silhouette against the rapidly brightening sun.
Atlas stood at the stern, watching the island fade, the past slipping away with the distance.
The prologue was over. The tutorial island was behind them.
He looked at Kassandra, who was now standing at the bow, holding the edge of the railing, looking toward the open sea with the Spear of Leonidas strapped to her back. Her profile was determined, already focused on the path ahead.
Now, Atlas thought, feeling the cold air on the horizon and—the hidden knowledge of the millennia that awaits them. The main plot of Assassin's Creed Odyssey officially begins.
Or more accurately… Kassandra's journal of being the immortal Keeper of Secrets has opened its first page. The fate of Greece, and perhaps the world, starts now.
He turned to face the horizon, squinting at the endless, deep-blue Aegean Sea.
"Next stop," he murmured, the name a weight on his tongue. "Megaris."
(PS: Please support me on patreon there 135+ chapters there and there also my new GoT: The True Dragon Fanfiction of Game of Thrones
https://patreon.com/BX_XDS)