Troy

As the airship approached Troy, a sense of anticipation filled the air, causing both the vessel and its occupants to tremble. Just moments ago, King Agamemnon had relayed the plan through the telecoms. Our fleet of 50 airships would support the naval and ground troops in attacking the towns and villages, while the remaining ships, including our own, would lead the charge on the main city.

Directly assaulting the city was out of the question due to the enormous shield protecting it. Instead, our objective was to lay siege, cutting off any means of escape until either a way to break the shield was discovered or the enemy surrendered out of desperation and hunger.

It was a sound plan, far superior to relying solely on Achilles and his spear.

Suddenly, the warning light flashed red, and the pilot's voice crackled through the speaker. "E.T.A. 1 minute. Prepare for jump."

Everyone rose to their feet and assumed their positions. Achilles and I stood at the front, his voice resonating with power, authority, and unwavering confidence.

"Many of you have fought in countless wars, while many, like myself, are new to this. But regardless of where we are in our journeys, we are all brothers! So lets fight united in bringing even greater glory and honor to our kingdom!" Achilles' words were met with resounding cheers from our comrades, even those communicating through the telecoms.

The excitement and adrenaline coursing through the air were palpable, infecting everyone, including myself. It was a mixture of exhilaration and fear. Not only were we facing the very real possibility of meeting our demise, but a small part of me reveled in the thrill of it all.

The back door of the airship creaked open, and the sound of the thrusters grew louder.

Achilles glanced at me, awaiting my approval, and I nodded. With a swift motion of his gauntlet, his golden armor materialized, its brilliance shining in the dim light.

Equipped with our own armors, we followed Achilles as he leaped out of the airship.

The wind whipped against my face with an aggressive force as I descended through the sky. My heart pounded even harder as the adrenaline surged through my veins.

The city sprawled out before me, its immense size visible even from this height. It dwarfed our entire kingdom, planting a seed of doubt within me about the success of this audacious attack.

As the ground rushed closer and closer, I deployed my parachute, jolting my body as the sudden force of air resistance and gravity collided.

The ground loomed ominously, and I feared that I might miss my landing and break every bone in my body. The feeling of dread intensified, causing my breathing to become erratic and my vision to blur.

Just as I believed this descent would end in disaster, Achilles' voice echoed through my comm.

"Patroklos! You're descending too quickly!" His voice brimmed with genuine concern.

"I-I don't know how to slow down! Achilles, what do I do?!"

"Stay calm and listen to me! Grip the handles tightly and push down. Just like we practiced!" His instructions rang in my ears, and I followed them as best I could, pressing down on the handles while silently praying to the Gods for protection.

Within seconds, my speed began to decrease, and I managed to land on the ground, rolling forward until I finally came to a stop. My armor had shielded me, though I was certain that I had accumulated a fair share of bruises.

Achilles landed gracefully beside me and immediately rushed to my side.

"Are you alright?!" he shouted, his concern evident as he checked my body for any signs of injury.

I couldn't help but smile and replied, "Yes."

He pulled me into a tight embrace, a gesture that would have lasted indefinitely if we weren't in the middle of a war zone.

Fortunately, our entire troop landed safely, though a few suffered injuries during the descent. Falling through the sky wasn't a skill that had been extensively taught to us, except for the seasoned soldiers, of which we were fortunate to have many.

Our airships positioned themselves strategically around the city, and simultaneously, their speakers blared King Menelaus' message.

"I am King Menelaus, and I bring the full wrath of Sparta, supported by the naval might of Athens and the formidable fighters of Myrmidon and their airships." King Menelaus spoke with unwavering confidence, a hint of anger simmering beneath his words. "You started this war by stealing my beloved wife and breaking the peace treaty! Surrender my wife, your kingdom, and your people, and we may just show you mercy."

We stood motionless, our eyes fixed on the imposing city before us, waiting for a response to King Menelaus' ultimatum.

And then, it came...

The ground trembled beneath our feet as the city's defenses sprang into action. Canon balls drenched in flames erupted from every corner of the city walls, hurtling towards our airships with deadly precision. The air crackled with tension as the projectiles streaked through the sky, their fiery tails leaving trails of smoke in their wake.

But our airships were not defenseless. In a display of technological prowess, their automated defense systems activated, unleashing a barrage of countermeasures. Missiles erupted from the airships, creating a dazzling display of light and sound as they intercepted the incoming canon balls. Explosions blossomed in the sky, the deafening booms echoing across the field as the threats were neutralized.

The silence settled over us once more, and we stood there, anticipation building as we awaited the arrival of the Kings. Time seemed to stretch on, and in the hours that passed, we managed to construct a modest camp. It wasn't much for the 500 of us, but it provided some semblance of comfort.

In the distance, we caught sight of flickering lights steadily approaching. Finally, King Menelaus and King Agamemnon had arrived. Their presence brought a sense of relief and hope to our weary hearts.

"My dear friends, thank you for your unwavering patience," Agamemnon beamed, gracefully dismounting his horse. He was accompanied by King Menelaus and a multitude of their soldiers. "We have successfully captured all the towns, and we are currently establishing our camp in the nearby temple of Apollo."

"It seems that our plan is progressing smoothly. All that remains now is the shield," Achilles declared, his gaze fixed on his spear, filled with determination as he extended it to its full length.

Taking his stance, Achilles prepared himself, his spear pulsating with power as its thrusters came to life. With a deep breath, he launched the spear towards the shield.

Sparks flew and energy erupted from the point of impact, captivating our attention. Then, like a bolt of lightning, the spear shot up into the sky.

To our astonishment, the shield remained unscathed, not a single scratch marred its surface. Wide-eyed and mouths agape, the soldiers were witness to technological marvels and divine tools unlike anything they had ever seen before.

Undeterred, Achilles extended his palm, summoning the spear back to him. He continued to charge and shoot it at the barrier, over and over again, but the result remained unchanged.

Achilles let out a frustrated grunt and hurled the spear once more, but the outcome remained disappointingly the same.

"Well... that is disappointing," Agamemnon sighed, his gaze falling upon the rocky ground.

"No! I can do it!" Achilles yelled, his anger palpable.

"There is still tomorrow, my child," Menelaus spoke with compassion, a stark contrast to his previous anger. It was both interesting and weird to hear him speak this way; he almost sounded like a concerned father.

"My brother is right. We should head to the temple and rest there until tomorrow. We will keep the airships on guard. You mentioned they can remain airborne for weeks without refueling, correct? I do not want them bombarding us in our sleep, with their little toys." Agamemnon suggested, his voice filled with mockery.

Achilles was too consumed by his anger to respond, so I nodded on his behalf, acknowledging the plan. And so, we made our way towards the temple of Apollo.

As we followed behind the Kings, I whispered to Achilles, attempting to offer reassurance. "We will figure it out. We always do." I smiled and reached for his hand, which initially tensed into a fist but gradually relaxed under my touch.

The camp was not far, a mere twenty-minute walk on foot. Upon arrival, we found Spartan troops diligently setting up tents, and provisions were being distributed among the weary soldiers.

Among them were Trojan civilians being held captive. Some complied willingly, while others futilely resisted. It pained me to witness their suffering, but I felt powerless to intervene.

Suddenly, a young soldier hurriedly approached us. "Hello, Prince Achilles and Lord Patroklos! King Agamemnon has assigned me as your assistant."

Achilles and I exchanged glances, both raising an eyebrow in confusion.

Achilles was perplexed by the sudden appearance of the boy, while I was still grappling with the fact that he referred to me as "Lord." No one had ever addressed me in such a manner, and it felt strange, to say the least.

"Please inform your King that we appreciate his hospitality, but we do not require a mere errand boy," Achilles spoke dismissively, ready to walk away. I quickly grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks.

"What is your name?" I asked, my tone sweet and gentle.

"I am Eurypylus," the chestnut-haired boy replied, his head hanging low.

"And what exactly is your role as our assistant?"

"Anything!" he exclaimed, a sudden burst of energy animating him. "I will do anything you ask! Please, just don't send me back to Lord Agamemnon. He will think I am useless." Tears welled up in Eurypylus' eyes, and I immediately placed my hand on his shoulder, guiding him along.

"Come, you can show us the way to our tent."

Eurypylus eagerly ran ahead, leading the way with a wide smile plastered across his face.

"You seem to have a way with children," Achilles commented, observing my interaction with Eurypylus.

"He appears to be no older than thirteen. How can they subject someone so young to this?" I exclaimed, my eyes widening in disbelief.

"That's just how Spartan society operates," Achilles explained. "They start training them from the moment they can walk." The notion of children being subjected to such intense military training from such a tender age seemed utterly absurd.

"That's ridiculous..." I whispered, my gaze shifting from Achilles to the young boy. A mixture of horror and sadness filled my heart as I desperately hoped that it was merely a rumor. Yet, there he stood, living proof of the harsh reality.

It had been a week since our arrival in Troy, and we were still no closer to victory. Achilles' spear had failed to penetrate the enemy's defenses, forcing us to resort to plan B: wait until they surrendered from starvation.

Every day, Achilles tirelessly hurled his spear at the shield for hours on end, despite the futility of the exercise. I stood by and watched, offering silent support through my mere presence.

Time seemed to crawl by at an agonizingly slow pace. Our days were spent playing games or training with each other, but the monotony of it all was beginning to wear on us.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon and Achilles' energy waned, we prepared to return to camp. Suddenly, the loud sliding of the gates being opened caught our attention. Three figures emerged from the distance, two men and a woman. The woman was Helen, her golden hair cascading over her shoulder, and her eyes as blue as Achilles'.

"Summon the Kings of Sparta," the older of the two men declared. "The sons of Troy wish to speak."