…

He called him by his name.

“What?”

"What do you fear?"

What does he fear?

Ophellios does not know. Many things, and nothing all the same. He shares the fear of all those in the camp, and it is not so different a concern to the ones the Trojans whisper behind the walls. He fears for his father, for his family back home; he fears he will fail them all, and worse still that he will never meet the prophecies of his sire in Olympus.

Sometimes he still fears the shape of the man he saw as a small child, silhouetted in the archway of his chambers in Pylos. Sometimes he still has nightmares about that blackened figure.

He fears the thought of that boy from the Trojan town. He fears returning to his tent where the woman remains, where he collapsed into her skin and babbled apologies to her when the whole job of it was done.

He fears that they will all die here.

“Why is it that you ask, lord?”

"Men are unstrung by different things. There are a thousand and one fears. Pain, shame, disgrace, weakness, loss. But you see, Ophellios - courage is all the same, all one thing: courage is knowing fear, and doing what must be done anyway. Even if it hurts, especially when it hurts; even when it burns to your very core. It is very difficult. It is very simple. You only - do it, you see."

To persist. A dance for the gods, then – eternal, until the arrow pierces your throat in turn.

He gazes at Aetos. “You must hurt very much.”

"Perhaps! Perhaps I do. In truth one starts to forget, over time."

He falls silent, hand absently rubbing at his knee. 

"Perhaps it amuses the gods. Perhaps they do not care. Either way - we can only make the best of it, boy."

He sits a little straighter. “They are calling me a man, now.”

"You are. A young man. A foolish one, many would say, without wisdom or experience or strength. But a man now all the same. A warrior."

The moon breaks behind the clouds, and for the first time in days, Ophellios smiles.

Aetos claps him on the shoulder. "You will do well. The blood of Pylos is strong, not just pretty."

He ambles away, only slightly staggering. 

“Report.”

"Negotiations have broken down completely - I do not think we would survive making another attempt at parley. We've raided some outlying towns, but the Trojans won't back down, and the townlands around the citadel itself are too well-garrisoned. We don't even know how they're getting supplies into the city. The trick with the river destroyed the gardens around here, but that's all. Unless Ambrosios has some other device to share with us - we'll have to lay siege. Creep inwards, cut off supply lines one by one."

The intensity of his gaze could burn holes into the ground.

“I have none,” he concedes, muttering the words like tearing out a tooth. Quickly, he adds, “for now. When we know more, have more to work with… rest assured comrades; my devices will not abandon us.”

He exhales, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

“Then it is settled. We shall lay siege to Ilium. May the gods protect us.”

There are mutters throughout the tent.

“Indeed.”

He laughs.

“Does something amuse you, King of Ithaca?”

“No. No, it is only that – we speak of the gods, and we supplicate Them to defend us in this war, but the Trojans are doing the very same, are they not? Which gods are with us, and which are against us? For there certainly must be those in Olympus who work to undermine our every plan, our every attempt at ending the war swiftly the way an eagle sweeps in on its prey; it is the only explanation, for my plans were devised by the suggestion of Pallas Herself. Brothers, the gods are not all here!”

"He's not wrong. Ares may foment the madness of war in men's hearts, but why are the rest of You going along with this?"

"Not even you can fight the Fates."

"Peace, Ambrosios. It is in fate that we should see this war to the finish. If the gods wish to pick Their sides too - well then, it is not for mortals to determine."

“No, Aetos. This war is fought in both the heavens and the earth. I shall put my mind to understanding the nature of the fight in Olympus, for it may determine the outcome of all our lives.”

Athena, he prays. I beg you; enlighten me.

"Well. I hope you can, and that it does not destroy you; but for my part we must turn from counsel to the affairs of war, to glory and not wisdom."