Orion

She hesitated momentarily after seeing that Achlys was awake, a flicker of surprise flashing through her face.

Men who fought typically slept through most of the following day…

"I'm here to clean your armour," she said quietly, giving in Achlys' inquiring look.

The man blinked, still half-dazed from his thoughts.

"My armour?" he repeated unintelligently.

Then he remembered the last day and the battered, blood-streaked pieces he had stripped off the night before.

The woman nodded, moving past him without waiting for a response.

She bent down, picking up the dented breastplate and inspecting it with a practised eye.

"You're lucky it held up as well as it did," she murmured, almost to herself.

"Some of the others weren't so fortunate."

Achlys watched her, feeling a strange sense of disconnection.

The woman was calmly going about her task as if it was the simplest thing.

"What's your name?" he eventually asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Eris."

Her eyes flickered up to meet his for a brief moment, a mix of emotions passing through them too quickly for Achlys to decipher.

She returned her attention to the armour and pulled out a piece of cloth and a small, chipped bottle of oil from the apron's pocket.

Her hands moved deftly as she began to clean off the dried blood and grime, polishing the dull, scratched surface of the armour

"I've been assigned to clean the equipment of the men in this unit. You are… the only one who remained."

"Oh," Achlys said, his voice hollow.

He didn't know any of his 'unit-mates' so he didn't feel particularly bad.

I wonder what will happen to me now.

Uncaring about Achly's inner debate, Eris continued her work in silence, her movements methodical and efficient.

The soft sound of cloth against metal filled the air, a stark contrast to the chaos of yesterday's battle.

.

Achlys, finally having enough of simply resting, walked around the camp he was sent to.

The air was thick with the smell of smoke and sweat, a reminder of the battle that had just taken place.

He was surprised to see how many people were bustling about, carrying on with their duties.

The men around him were busy, their expressions focused as they carried supplies, sharpened weapons, and mended tents.

It was a scene that felt almost surreal in its normalcy, considering the chaos that had enveloped them the day before.

For a moment, he wondered if he was the only one still carrying the weight of that battle, if everyone else had somehow moved on while he was left behind.

However, that thought was dismissed as he noticed the haunted looks that many of the men sported.

How many battles did these people fight in? How many friends and brothers did they lose?

He felt a sudden urge to know more of the men he fought side by side with, to understand them better.

But before he could ponder further, a voice cut through his thoughts.

"Hey, you there."

There was no reason for him to turn around, the voice could have been directed at anyone.

But Achlys felt as if he recognised the voice.

He turned slowly, scanning the area until he saw a figure standing a few feet away, and sure enough, it was the soldier who had spotted him the day before.

Now that he wasn't caught up in the heat, Achlys noticed details he'd previously missed.

The man was in his mid-thirties, with a weathered face and a scar running down the side of his cheek, and his eyes held a mix of weariness and determination, a look that Achlys was quickly becoming familiar with.

Unlike the day before, the man's posture was relaxed and Achlys took that as a good sign.

The man studied him for a moment, as if weighing him.

"Name's Orion," he said finally.

"You fought well. I heard some of the others talking," he told Achlys, rendering him speechless.

He didn't remember fighting well.

I barely survived for Zeus' sake.

"Thanks," he said, unsure of what else to say.

Orion gave a small nod and looked past him, at the men milling around the camp.

"Most of the young ones don't make it through their first battle, as you probably saw. It messes with your head. Makes you think you're not supposed to be alive."

Survivor's guilt, Achlys' mind supplied.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked confused.

He didn't forget the man's threat the day before.

He's the fucking reason I joined that fight in the first place, Achlys thought bitterly.

Of course, the man didn't need to know that.

Orion shrugged.

"Because you're here, and you're still breathing. Means you've got a choice to make."

He paused, his gaze steady.

"You can either stop brooding and do your damn best to stay alive, or wait around to die."

Achlys blinked, trying to process the words.

He just stood there, feeling that same strange disconnection from everything around him.

For a moment, they stood there in silence, the sounds of the camp fading into the background.

On one side stood a man from the long future, fighting for a chance at power and recognition, and on the other, an old man fighting for his values and his country…

Finally, Orion clapped him on the shoulder, a gesture that was surprisingly gentle.

"If you ever need someone to talk to, find me," he said.

"I've been around long enough to know a few things."

Achlys nodded, choosing not to speak.

He watched as Orion turned and walked away, blending back into the flow of people moving through the camp.

He stood there for a while, thinking about what the man had said.

It was strange—he had come all alone, but now there was a small part of him that felt… connected with those people, if only just a little.

That's war for you, he thought grimly.

Fighting with your life on the line with someone—it had a way of forging connections, binding people like few things did.

With that thought in mind, he turned and began to walk back towards his tent where he had left Eris.

The short exchange made him suddenly feel weary and tired.