He’d been in Taengea a long, long time. Unused to staying anywhere for such an extended period, and for a bulk of that time without his ship, Lukos had never dreamed that this trip to Vasiliadon would be different from any other. Sailing to and fro on the Aegean, he was as used to this port as any - he just hadn’t banked on being stabbed and left for dead. Nor had he thought he’d be nursed to health by Kreios and Kreios’s Bedoan woman. Nor had he imagined he’d fight a prince, find out he had a sister, meet the love of his life...it’d been a wild time. But Lukos was restless and as soon as his first mate Arktos had come with the Aceton, Lukos hadn’t wasted any more time.

What he’d wanted was for the ship to turn straight around and head right back for Colchis. He wanted ocean and salt breezes in his hair. He wanted the gentle, undulating movements of the ship beneath his boots and the freedom that being captain afforded him. He wanted to turn his face to the sunrise and chase that smooth horizon until the sun sank into its depths behind him and the stars rose up to race across the night sky.

The Aceton was a Greek ship and not at the same time. Its prow was definitely Greek, having the long nose used to ram other ships, it was also painted like one as well. Large eyes were painted to either side of the prow and its black hull was decorated with gold curling squares. But its size was definitely not of Greek origin. It was huge in comparison to most of the ships that stayed close to the shore. In the ship’s previous life, built in a drydock in far away lands, it’d been a two masted, red sailed galleon with long oars that allowed it to slice through the water at a terrific speed. At some point it had been retrofitted long before Lukos or his captain or even his captain’s captain had ever gotten a hold of it to look more in keeping with the the ships around the Medditeranean.

Lukos was on the middle deck, running his hand along the smooth, well worn railing. He’d been in Taengea long enough that the stab wound was now completely healed and all that remained of it was a hideous scar on his side, hidden by his billowing shirt. His crew rolled barrels of water up the gangplank and bringing foodstuffs for the two week journey to Midas. From there, Lukos planned to pick up more supplies and head straight for his island home. He’d been away from it for nearly six months by this point. There was no place like home.

Movement on the dock made him look up. His first mate, Arktos, a giant, bear of a man was walking towards the ship. The sun had glinted off Arktos’s bald head and it was this that had truly drawn Lukos’s attention. Something else drew Lukos’s eye, then. In other ports he didn’t have to worry so much, but in Vasiliadon in particular, people tended to ask for rides. And Lukos typically did not say yes. A lot of the time he was transporting too many slaves and for another? He just didn’t really like new people. But he could see a few men and even one woman roaming the docks, asking prices for ship fares.

He crossed his arms and leaned like that on the railing, smirking down below at the faces peering up at him. Maybe he would give one a ride. For a price. He was in an over generous mood at the moment.