224 Agamemnon's angry
The atmosphere in the Greek camp was tense, a far cry from the elation they'd felt after the fall of Lyrnessus. Despite their recent conquest, the Greeks were now faced with a challenge far greater than any they had anticipated—Troy. This was no ordinary city; it was a formidable stronghold, a fortress whose walls and defenses seemed almost invincible. The Greeks hadn't even managed to reach the outer walls, repelled time and again by Troy's powerful army, whose discipline and resilience had surprised even the most seasoned Greek commanders.
The Greeks had gravely underestimated the Trojans—not just their physical strength, but also their unwavering spirit and resilience. Even as the Greeks cut off neighboring Trojan towns, isolating Troy, the city stood defiant, its high walls casting long shadows over the Greek encampments below. Each passing day tested the Greeks' resolve, and as the siege dragged into its third month, their initial fervor began to wane. Victories came only in minor skirmishes, while the main siege saw little to no progress.
To make matters worse, the Greeks were demoralized by the exploits of Hector, Troy's greatest champion. In every clash, Hector seemed unstoppable, cutting through the Greek lines with a terrifying ferocity that sent chills through even the bravest warriors. His strength and tactical prowess made him a force on the battlefield, and his presence alone left the Greeks wary of engaging too closely. Whispers spread among the soldiers; some even admitted to fearing Hector more than the walls of Troy itself. Each defeat at his hands cast a growing shadow over the camp, and slowly, despair crept in.
Meanwhile, Agamemnon, their leader and King of Kings, had sunk into a dark and brooding mood, clouded by a string of recent losses that felt as personal as they were strategic. It had all begun with the dreadful sacrifice of his daughter, Iphigenia, to appease the gods for a favorable journey to Troy. While the decision had left him tormented, he'd tried to focus on the war, finding a temporary distraction in the beauty of Astynome, a priestess of Apollo and a prize he had seized with triumph. She was stunning, a symbol of his conquest, and he had relished the thought of claiming her fully.
But just as he was on the verge of enjoying his reward, Astynome was snatched from under his nose by a brazen intruder, an audacious act that left him seething. The insult was worsened by a calamity that struck the very same day—a prized ship, loaded with weapons meant to reinforce his troops, was set ablaze and sunk to the ocean's depths. The fire lit up the night sky, and Agamemnon could do nothing but watch as flames consumed the vessel and its precious cargo.
It was the worst night Agamemnon had ever known. It had started with the humiliation of being cursed publicly by Astynome's father, who had vowed that Agamemnon would meet a vile and bitter humiliating end. Then came Astynome's disappearance, and finally, the devastating destruction of his ship.
19:56
It was the worst night Agamemnon had ever known. It had started with the humiliation of being cursed publicly by Astynome's father, who had vowed that Agamemnon would meet a vile and bitter humiliating end. Then came Astynome's disappearance, and finally, the devastating destruction of his ship.
Agamemnon's gloom was contagious, casting a shadow over the Greek camp that only deepened with each passing day. His soldiers, once fiercely determined, now sensed their king's lack of enthusiasm, and it was wearing on them. Though Agamemnon was far from depressed, the loss of his prize had dimmed his spirits. Everyone else seemed to revel in small victories or moments of joy, but he, the King of Kings, felt only bitterness. How could his soldiers celebrate while he, the leader of all Greece, sat in this quiet misery?
Odysseus and Nestor stared at him in stunned silence, both their mouths slightly agape.
"Briseis? Surely, you don't mean the queen of—"
"The woman who was meant to be Queen of Lyrnessus, yes," Agamemnon replied, his tone unyielding. "I want her to replace what was stolen from me. Bring her to me." He nodded at Nestor, then leaned back in his chair, the flicker of power back in his gaze as he settled into his role as king, unshakable and imperious.
But Odysseus's face paled. "King Agamemnon... Briseis is with Achilles. She is his reward," he reminded gently, hoping Agamemnon had merely overlooked this. But Agamemnon's face remained resolute, unyielding in the face of his advisor's concern.
"Bring her to me, and I will march with my armies against Troy with every ounce of strength I possess. You have my word," Agamemnon said, each syllable ringing with finality. His gaze bore into Odysseus, making it clear that further objections would be futile.
Odysseus struggled to hide his dread. The request would undoubtedly provoke Achilles, a man known for his fiery temper and fierce pride. Achilles would not take such a demand lightly. If Agamemnon persisted, he might ignite a conflict more dangerous than any they faced outside Troy's walls.
But Agamemnon's mind was set.
Odysseus looked at Nestor for help but the latter shook his head again. He had tried to convince all this time Agamemnon but for the first time he reacted and asked for something which was a good sign but also the only solution to their predicament.
Of course if a choice had to be made between Achilles or Agamemnon the answer would be obviously the one leading all the armies, Agamemnon...