"So boring!" Penthesilea huffed, her voice sharp with frustration. She paced back and forth, her fists clenched, her impatience growing by the minute. "I didn't see any Achilles, Agamemnon, Menelaus, or Ajax! None of the true warriors were here. Just weaklings! Is this what the great Lyrnessus had to offer?
I'm disappointed—I wanted to fight real men, warriors worthy of my strength!"
The Amazonian queen's anger simmered beneath her calm exterior, but those who knew her well could see it in the tense set of her jaw, the way her spear twitched in her grip. She had come to Lyrnessus with high expectations, eager to test herself against the legendary heroes of the Achaeans, the so-called strongest fighters of the Greek world.
After all, she wasn't just any warrior—she was the queen of the Amazons, a title she had earned by constantly pushing herself beyond her limits. She lived for battle, for the thrill of facing a foe who could challenge her.
But instead of worthy adversaries, all she had found was a ruined city, its once-proud streets now littered with corpses and the remains of homes burned to ash. The Greeks who had laid siege to Lyrnessus were no better than scavengers, plundering like wild beasts, too cowardly or too complacent to stand and fight her.
"This is pathetic," she muttered under her breath, glaring at the smoldering ruins around her. "A real disappointment."
Hector, standing nearby with a sword resting against his shoulder, exhaled in exasperation. "We aren't here for a fight, Penthesilea," he reminded her, his voice level but tired. "Our mission was to evacuate the survivors, not seek glory in battle."
Penthesilea shot him a look, rolling her eyes. "Whatever. So why are we still hanging around? We've rescued the survivors, haven't we? What's the point in waiting? The longer we stay, the higher the risk of getting caught." Her voice was laced with impatience, and the twitch in her hand suggested she was ready to leave this miserable place behind.
The Amazons and Trojans had done what they came to do—rescued the few who survived the Greek onslaught and spirited them away in carriages hidden on the outskirts of the city. The survivors were already on their way to the Trojan capital, safe and out of harm's reach. Now, they were simply lingering, disguised as soldiers of Lyrnessus amidst the rubble, waiting for...something.
Hector, ever the calm and steady leader, shook his head. "We're still missing two people," he explained, keeping his eyes on the horizon, as if expecting trouble at any moment.
Penthesilea raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Who?" she demanded.
"Heiron and his companion," came the answer from Aeneas, who had been standing quietly near the edge of the group. His gaze was distant, thoughtful, as if recalling something important.
"Probably dead by now," Penthesilea replied bluntly, with a dismissive shrug. "Let's just leave. I don't care about some random fighters, especially not ones foolish enough to stay behind in this wasteland."
Aeneas frowned, clearly not swayed by her indifference. "No, they aren't dead," he said firmly, shaking his head. "I'm sure of it."
Hector, though trusting Aeneas, shared a sliver of Penthesilea's doubt. "Are you certain, Aeneas? With the chaos that's unfolded here, it's not impossible."
Aeneas met Hector's gaze, his expression serious. "Yes, I'm certain. I saw Heiron in the heat of battle—he was fighting one of the Empire's Heroes."
Penthesilea's interest piqued for a moment, her eyes narrowing. "One of those Heroes? Then he's probably dead after all. I've heard those Empire warriors are strong—stronger than most."
"He said he was going to spy on the Greek camp to gather information." Charybdis said casually.
But it was as if she had tossed a bomb at their feet. The reaction was immediate.
Aeneas' eyes widened in disbelief. "What? Has he gone mad?" He almost shouted, unable to comprehend how reckless Heiron could be. Charybdis' nonchalant tone only made it worse. She said it as though Heiron was merely taking a stroll through a peaceful meadow instead of infiltrating a heavily fortified enemy camp.
Penthesilea's lips curled into a smirk, ever the cynic. "Perhaps he's betrayed us," she suggested, her voice laced with amusement. "Wouldn't that be something? Especially since he could know the layout of Troy so well."
Hector's expression hardened. The possibility of betrayal weighed heavily on him. If Heiron had truly turned against them, it would be catastrophic. The information he carried could spell their doom.
But Aeneas shook his head, his voice firm. "No. He didn't betray us."
Hector narrowed his eyes, unsure how Aeneas could be so certain. "How do you know that?" he asked, suspicion creeping into his tone.
Aeneas hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. "I can't be certain, but I trust my instincts. Something about Heiron... he doesn't strike me as the type to betray those he fights alongside."
He thought back to the brief interactions he had with Heiron. Though they didn't know each other well, there was something about him that inspired trust, something honest and unspoken that Aeneas had sensed during their exchanges.
"And besides," Aeneas added, "if he were truly planning to betray us, would he have sent his companion back to us?"
Hector considered this for a moment, nodding slowly. "You're right. Maybe... Let's just hope he comes back with good information—and alive."
But Aeneas, still troubled, glanced at Charybdis. Her calm demeanor unnerved him. He couldn't understand how she wasn't worried, how she could be so indifferent when Heiron was taking such a dangerous risk.
"Aren't you worried about him at all?" Aeneas asked, genuinely surprised by her composure.
Charybdis turned her gaze on him, her expression one of disdain and disbelief, as though she had just heard the most absurd question imaginable.
"The ones who should be worried," she said icily, "are the Greeks."
With that, she walked away, her ocean-blue hair swaying gently with each step, leaving the trio behind in silence.
Hector, Penthesilea, and Aeneas exchanged glances. They said nothing as they followed her out of Lyrnessus,