Marcus squirmed under the guard's large hand, which firmly gripped his shoulder. His legs stained against the cobblestone road, pushing against the man's iron grasp.
Though taller than most teenage boys, Marcus's strength was leagues below a trained soldier. He hadn't properly timed the change in watchmen outside of the Golden Goose, a store with many valuable artifacts, and his proximity to the shops' display was more than enough to get him heavily fined.
"Yer takin' a trip down ta the hold'n cell, till whoever bought you those nice clothes bails you out. Boy." The guard spat out the last word like it was a stray piece of meat stuck between his teeth.
The Guard spoke in rough, plain Latin, his words coming out in short bursts, as if he had to plan and think out each syllable.
Marcus analyzed the Guard, noting his height, tan skin, and long, dark hair.
He replied in Greek, "Can't you let me off with a warning, Spartiátis?"
The guards' grip loosened, Marcus was right, he was Greek!
The soldier's smile peeked out from under his helm. He responded, "I'm no Spartan, boy, just an old man. Now, what's a fellow Greek doing in Naples!"
Marcus replied with something about an apprenticeship. He wasn't Greek, but his father worked as a translator for the Martino administration. One day, Marcus would take his father's position, so he had to be fluent in many languages.
"I still need to take you in, kid," the guard said, "but I'll let you off with a small fine, only a silver Denarius or two. "
Marcus began his begrudging walk down to the Naples barracks when a stone zipped past his face, hitting the guard's helmet with a sharp "ding!"
Marcus's eyes whipped up to a nearby rooftop, where a beautiful girl with long, now unbraided hair smiled down at him, a sling clutched in her hand.
Marcus yanked his arm out of the guard's grasp, leaping over a few stray barrels and carts before reaching the building on which Seyda was perched.
He launched himself off the building's lower windows onto a gutter which he confidently climbed to house's roof, where Seyda pulled him up.
"Zeus's Balls Seyda, you're good with that sling," Marcus said, pulling the girl into a tight hug.
Seyda beamed in response to the praise, but her smile froze as she spotted something below.
The armored guard, who they thought had been knocked out by Seyda's stone, stood up.
Marcus froze in fear as the Guard's eyes locked onto his. Terror gripped his heart, squeezing the air out of his lungs. A feeling of heaviness weighed on the young mans' shoulders, generated by the Greek soldiers' very presence.
The Guard threw off his helmet, revealing a long mane of dark hair. On his forehead an upside-down V proudly shone in bright red ink.
He. He really is a spartan.
They bolted.
Wind whistled across the tops of Naples's cramped buildings as Marcus and Seyda launched themselves from roof to roof.
Marcus, slightly slower than Seyda, ducked under a clothesline before vaulting himself off of a balcony. His arms ached as his mouth greedily sucked in warm spring air.
Marcus glanced back at a large figure making its way closer and closer to them. The Spartan leapt across the rooftops in a few short bounds, rapidly closing the space between them.
How does he move that fast in chain mail?
The teens continued leaping across the rooftops, with the Spartan on hot pursuit. Marcus kept his eyes forward, not allowing his thoughts to stray to the deadly fall lurking four stories below.
The Spartan was within fifty feet of Marcus and Seyda as they came to a stop.
A canal, snaking towards the gulf of Naples blocked their way.
In other circumstances, Marcus would have taken a moment to appreciate the view of the glistening Mediterranean sea at sunset. The sea sparked with intoxicating shades of purple, red, and yellow. The view was framed by beautiful marble temples dedicated to various gods, and the lush villas of the upper class poised on top of the hills around the Naples's gulf.
However, Marcus was more focused on the Massive Spartan that had just made his way onto the rooftop he and Seyda were currently standing on.
Marcus's eyes flashed down to the boats sailing through the canal, an idea forming in his head.
The Spartan, picking up on Marcus's plan, came to a stop, not wanting to spook the boy.
The man showed his open palms outwards, taking slow, deliberate steps towards them.
In a calming, unwinded voice, he began, "Marcus Arium. Listen to me. I've been looking for you for a very long time, we need to tal-"
He was cut off as Seyda grabbed Marcus's hand, and pulled him, alongside herself, off the roof.