For my brother's life

Hesiod, the beggar

The news shocked him to the core. His brother was gone, taken by criminals and cast into the sea as for their own sport and their dominance. The brother that Hesiod had grew up on the streets with, that had he lived with, stolen for, and fought against for his entire life was gone. And all just so they could suppress the people of that small, vile port city, make them feel owned. And they did own them, as much as people let them. The people had fallen under this band of cutthroats years ago, lead by a warlord wanting a piece of the world. They took their money, and made them pay tolls and feed them. And the people cowered from them.

Hesiod walked the streets that  night till he reached the pier, which in the dead of night mirrored his silent and grief stricken demeanor. "Hurry up louts!" he heard the shout behind him, and instinctively hid, a task which grew harder as his years neared manhood, now that he aged 19 years. He waited behind a pile of crates, and watched as several armed men led others carry boxes onto a ship. The man in the lead shouted again, "Don't keep the chief wanting for his taxes, hurry up." The ship they loaded was a small one with lots of cargo, but donned with black, and the well known symbol of the chieftain that ordered these men, a crossed pair of maces.

As he watched Hesiod's thoughts returned to that which plagued him, the death of his brother. These bastards had taken the only thing he held dear, and killed him like an animal, why not return the favor? He kept his knife on him at all times, and to sneak into their island fortress and put a knife in the man's throat. Send him down to the underworld where his brother lay forever. So he watched until those laden with boxes had set the cargo and left the pier, and as the ship slowly began to slip away with its cargo of men and unjust taxes, he stepped upon board, dropping himself below a net, where he would not be seen. Cleiton, he vowed, would be avenged.