I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

“You’re going to Pelusium, aren’t you?”

A voice cut through the din of the tavern.

Nathan turned his head. The man who had spoken was seated right beside him—a figure who had, until now, remained quiet.

The stranger smirked at him, his eyes gleaming.

Nathan scoffed, tilting his head slightly as he regarded the man with an unimpressed expression. “What do you think?” he asked mockingly, his voice laced with thinly veiled irritation. He had no patience for eavesdroppers, much less those who thought they could involve themselves in his business.

The stranger, unfazed by Nathan’s tone, took another leisurely sip from his cup, a smirk playing on his lips. “I think,” he drawled, “that you’re indeed heading to Pelusium. You seem rather interested in meeting Pompey, though I have to wonder—why?”

Nathan’s eyes darkened, his patience thinning. “That doesn’t concern you.”

“True,” the man conceded with an amused chuckle, setting his cup down with a soft clink against the wooden table.

Nathan studied him for a moment but found no reason to waste any more time. Without another word, he turned to leave, pushing his chair back with a controlled movement.

“Wait.”

The stranger’s voice halted him mid-step. Nathan turned his head slightly, his black hair catching the flickering glow of the oil lamps. The man had risen from his seat, now standing face-to-face with him, his expression still one of amusement, yet there was a keen glint in his eyes—one that suggested he was far more perceptive than he let on.

“If you’re heading to Pelusium,” the man continued, “I can take you there. As it happens, I was planning to leave soon myself. I only stopped here for a last bit of rest before setting sail. Then I overheard you.”

Nathan raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You expect me to believe you just so happen to be traveling to the same place?” His voice carried a biting edge of skepticism.

The man laughed, shaking his head. “Hard to believe? Yes. But that doesn’t make it any less true. I’d suggest you accept the offer, though. You won’t find many boats willing to take you there—at least, not ones you’d want to board. Trust me.”

Nathan crossed his arms, studying the man closely. “And why should I trust you?”

The man’s smirk widened. “Because I can promise you’ll get there in one piece. People of Alexandria are good folk, mostly. But there are… others. Dangerous types. If you aren’t careful, you could find yourself in a situation where you don’t have a choice. Kidnappings aren’t uncommon, especially when someone new and unsuspecting arrives in the city.”

Nathan narrowed his eyes. “Kidnap me?” He let out a short, dry chuckle.

“You’re new here,” the man continued with a casual shrug. “You don’t know how things work yet. Ever since Ptolemy XIII took the throne, things have become… how should I put it? More ‘free.'” He smirked, swirling the liquid in his cup before taking another sip.

Nathan scoffed. “That’s what happens when you put a brat on the throne.”

Silence.

It was sudden, unnatural. The air in the tavern shifted. Conversations died down, chairs scraped as men and women hurriedly turned away. Some mumbled hurried prayers under their breath, their gazes avoiding Nathan as if he had just uttered something sacrilegious.

The stranger watched the scene unfold before shaking his head, then—he laughed. Loudly.

“Insulting the Pharaoh, right here, in his own capital?” He clapped his hands together, amused. “I have to admit, you’ve got guts.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice, but his grin never wavered. “You do realize that could get you killed, right? Maybe worse—tortured first, then executed.”

Nathan’s expression remained impassive, though inwardly, he noted the tension in the room. The people’s fear. Their whispered prayers.

As expected, Nathan didn’t seem particularly concerned. The warnings, the hushed prayers, the way the tavern’s atmosphere had shifted into a tense silence—it all meant nothing to him. He had no reason to fear a child-king’s rule.

His gaze shifted back to the man who had so casually offered him passage to Pelusium.

A stranger. An unknown factor.

Nathan didn’t trust him, nor did he care to. But if this man could get him to his destination faster, there was little reason to refuse. And if he turned out to be a threat? Well, then Nathan would simply kill him and take what he needed. It wasn’t complicated.

“Fine,” Nathan said at last. “I accept your offer. Take me there.”

The man smirked as if he had expected that answer all along. “Good. Follow me.” Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode toward the exit.

Nathan followed, his sharp eyes never leaving the stranger’s back.

As they stepped out into the warm night air, the city of Alexandria stretched before them, its streets bathed in the soft glow of oil lamps. The scent of the sea mixed with the lingering aromas of spice and grilled meat from nearby food stalls. The port wasn’t far—he could already hear the distant calls of sailors preparing for their early departures.

After a few moments of walking, Nathan finally spoke. “Who are you?”

The man didn’t break his stride. “You can call me Aporos,” he answered smoothly. “And you?”

Nathan hesitated.

Giving his real name was out of the question. He couldn’t use Nathan, Heiron, or even Samael. Here, in the Empire of Amun Ra, he needed something different—something that wouldn’t draw suspicion.

A Roman name would serve well enough.

“Lucius,” he said finally.

Aporos glanced at him with mild interest. “Lucius, huh? A fine name,” he mused before flashing a grin. “And where exactly are you from, Lucius?”

Nathan narrowed his eyes slightly at the deliberate mispronunciation of his supposed name. He already disliked how many questions this man was asking.

“Try to guess,” he said, his tone carrying an edge of annoyance.

Aporos chuckled. “Hm… judging by that arrogance, I’d say you’re straight from the Roman capital? They all carry themselves like that, don’t they? But then again…” He studied Nathan more closely as they walked, his gaze sharp despite his casual demeanor. “You don’t have the mannerisms of those self-important nobles. You hold yourself differently—like someone accustomed to battle. A soldier? No… a mercenary, perhaps?”

Nathan almost laughed at the irony.

He had played the role of a mercenary before, during the Trojan War. If it had worked then, it would work now.

“Mercenary,” he echoed, a hint of amusement slipping into his voice. “Yeah. Something like that.”

Aporos smirked again.

“Mercernary then… but I wonder, who is it that you serve? And why have you come all this way? Did your master give you a specific task to accomplish that involves Pompey?” Aporos asked, his sharp eyes studying Nathan with keen curiosity.

Nathan felt another surge of annoyance rise within him.

Master? The very thought of being subservient to anyone made his skin crawl. He had no master. No one commanded him. But instead of voicing his irritation, he chose silence, dismissing the prying question with an indifferent glance.

Aporos chuckled, as if he had expected that reaction. “Hahaha, I apologize if I’m being too talkative. I just have this feeling that we could get along well—perhaps even become good friends,” he said, his grin easy and confident.

“I don’t think so,” Nathan replied flatly, his tone carrying the weight of finality. “Just take me where I need to go, and I’ll make sure you’re compensated generously.”

But instead of accepting the payment, Aporos waved it off with a laugh. “No need for that. You’re new around here, aren’t you? Consider this a favor from me,” he said with a dismissive shrug.

Nathan remained silent, unwilling to entertain further conversation.

Before long, they arrived at the dock where a sturdy wooden boat awaited them, its sails furled and its crew already making final preparations. The scent of saltwater mixed with the faint, lingering stench of fish and damp wood. The gentle rocking of the boat against the pier suggested they were ready to set sail at any moment.

“Let’s go, everyone!” Aporos, as he had introduced himself earlier—called out to the crew. “We have a guest with us! Let me introduce you all to Lucius!”

Nathan observed the crew’s reaction. It was far from welcoming.

The men and women on board looked him over with sharp, scrutinizing eyes, their expressions guarded, their posture stiff with unspoken tension. These weren’t ordinary sailors. Nathan could tell immediately—each of them carried themselves with the air of seasoned fighters. Scars, calloused hands, and the way they shifted their weight spoke of experience in battle.

Just who were these people?

Nathan refrained from asking questions. He merely returned their wary gazes with an indifferent glance before walking to an unoccupied corner of the boat and sitting down, waiting for the journey to begin.

Aporos, undeterred by the crew’s silence, let out another hearty laugh. “Hah! He’s not much of a talker, but he’s a good one!” he declared, slapping a nearby crew member on the shoulder.

Nathan closed his eyes, intending to ignore whatever conversation would follow, but his ears—far from ordinary—picked up something interesting.

A man had grabbed Aporos by the arm, dragging him aside with an air of frustration. The two moved a few steps away, likely thinking they were far enough to avoid being overheard. Unfortunately for them, Nathan’s sharp hearing betrayed that assumption.

“What the hell are you doing?!” the man hissed angrily.

Aporos sighed, clearly exasperated. “What’s got you so riled up?”

“What’s got me riled up? You brought a stranger onto the ship! Are you mad? Did you forget what we’re here for?”

“I know very well,” Aporos said with a casual shrug. “But he’s heading in the same direction, so I’m just helping him out. No harm in that.”

“No harm in that?” the other man seethed. “We’re sailing to Pelusium to secure an important alliance with Pompey….for Queen Cleopatra! And you’re playing around with strangers?!”

Nathan’s eyes snapped open.