The wind whispered through the trees. Aeneas suddenly laughed. "Brother, you're a living map. I'll need your reminders when my head gets fuzzy."
Achates didn't reply. He just gave a slight nod. His deep brown eyes held Aeneas's gaze. Loyal. Silent.
Aeneas filed it all away in his mind. This was his first real lesson. About war. About command.
Soon, the mountain path ended. A sturdy barracks stood there. Its walls were rough stone and timber. They had a grim, unyielding strength.
A sentry on the wall spotted Aeneas. He snapped to attention. His spear tip glinted coldly in the evening light.
Before they even reached the gate, a booming laugh rolled out.
"Haha! The young lord! You're here!"
They looked. A scarred veteran strode to meet them. His steps were solid. Powerful. Like a battle-hardened lion.
He was Camp Commander Callippus. His thick arms moved. His leather armor shone from years of polishing.
He bowed respectfully to Aeneas and Achates. His tone was warm, though.
"Lord Anchises has a son like you. A blessing for our Dardan Valley!"
He turned. Clapped Nisus and Euryalus on the shoulders. The impact was like a falling rock.
Euryalus gritted his teeth. Held back a wince. He wouldn't show weakness before an old soldier.
Nisus just grinned. He slapped Callippus's arm back. A hunter's greeting to a warrior.
"Good lads!" Callippus roared with laughter. He spoke to them like brothers in his own camp.
"Heard the young lord picked you? Fine! Stick with him. Plenty of chances for glory ahead!"
Aeneas smiled. He knew. This casual, genuine respect from a veteran was priceless. Better than a thousand flattering words from a courtier.
Callippus's eyes fell on the ornate tray in Nisus's hands. He raised a brow, impressed.
"Young lord? Taking this to Troy? To offer glory to Lady Athena?"
Aeneas smiled lightly. "Yes, Commander. Offering the hunter's glory. Praying for her wisdom and strength to keep blessing the Dardan Valley. And also—" he added, "—to make a bit of an appearance."
Callippus blinked. Then he laughed again, his scars crinkling.
He looked at the young lord. His tone was half-joking, half-serious.
"A young lord like you? Knows honor. Knows hard work. Our lands will prosper for sure!"
As they left, he personally saw them to the gate.
The soldiers in the yard still stood. Their eyes followed the young lord's back.
Aeneas felt it. He didn't look back. But he swore silently to himself.
—This kind of heartfelt recognition was precious. More than anything. How could he let these good men die in that cursed war? He had to try harder.
Morning light. The party moved down the dirt road of Mount Dardan.
Ahead, the mountain wind carried sounds from the market. A distant, rising clamor reached their ears.
The valley town was just ahead.
They entered the town gate. A bustle of activity hit them.
Hawkers called their wares. Women picked through pottery. Children chased a mule cart. The clang of hammers and shouts of vendors wove a rough, lively tune.
The air smelled of spices, roasting meat, cooked fish, leather, and goat cheese. Hot and real.
"Brother, we can come to this market all the time now!"
Euryalus whispered, his eyes shining like a kid's in the city. "We're the young lord's attendants now!"
Nisus fought a smile. He snorted, trying to sound stern.
"Being the young lord's attendant isn't about sightseeing."
But his own eyes darted around, curious about the flourish.
Aeneas walked between them. His pace was slow. His eyes scanned the stalls like a hawk's.
Coarse pottery, salted fish, olive oil, textiles, wooden bows, bronze knives... Commonplace things to others. But each one set his mind calculating.
(Salt production is too low. Increase it, and preserved goods last twice as long.
Brewing is still low-alcohol. Figure out spirits. Good for drinking. Good for disinfecting.
Looms... I can't build one. But I know the features... Find skilled craftsmen. Point them in the right direction. Give them time to research. They'll figure it out.)
His brow furrowed slightly. Like he was drafting a business plan mentally.
Projects popped into his head. His thoughts threatened to overflow. He checked himself.
Don't rush. It's only the third day. Watch first. Think first.
Achates stepped up quietly. He spoke in a low voice.
"Young lord, the ferry's just ahead. The boat is ready."
Aeneas snapped out of it. He smiled.
"Good. We'll complete the formalities for Lady Athena today. Visit Mother Aphrodite's temple tomorrow."
"It's an 'itinerary' Mother arranged personally. Such a high-level 'secretary' gave the orders. I dare not slack off."
"Itinerary? Secretary?" Nisus and Euryalus frowned in unison, completely baffled.
Achates just shook his head helplessly. He patted the two brothers' shoulders. His tone was gentle.
"The young master's words are mostly like divine oracles. It's normal not to understand. You'll get used to it in time."
The brothers exchanged a look. A silent question passed between them: "You get it?"
Then they shrugged in perfect sync. "Who does?"
Then they grinned, a shared, foolish smile.
It was simple. Uninhibited. It instantly brightened the subdued atmosphere.
Aeneas watched them. A sudden warmth rose in his chest.
He thought to himself: The best part of a journey isn't reaching the destination. It's these laughs that make you forget the goal entirely.
Amid the town's din and the water sounds from the ferry, they moved on.
The Scamander River was wide. Its flow was gentle. Sunlight shattered and glittered on the ripples.
A wooden pier stretched into the water. A few single-oared sailboats rocked gently on the wake. Their hulls let out soft creaks. Like quiet breathing.
The sounds in their ears shifted. To the slap of river water and the ferry's noise.
This was the valley's busiest thoroughfare. Carpenters hauling wood. Merchants pushing pottery urns. Shepherds leading goats. All coming and going.
They saw Aeneas and his party. They knew at once he was a young noble. They willingly cleared a path. Their eyes held curiosity and respect.
The ferryman recognized him immediately. He stood at once. Bowed respectfully.
Achates stepped forward. He spoke in a low voice, confirming the day's travel plans.
His expression was steady as ever. Like he was checking a military manifest. No room for error.
Nisus carefully adjusted the wooden tray in his arms. On it lay the wooden sword. The sacred offering.
He took a deep breath. Composed his expression. Like a pilgrim ready for worship.
Euryalus beside him seemed restless. His eyes sparkled.
"Hey, Nisus. Keep scowling like that, people will think you're off to see the king," Euryalus whispered, a smile playing on his lips.
Nisus shot him a look. Didn't retort. Just held the tray straighter.
Achates heard it. He gave a soft, warning grunt. A hint for the playful brat to behave.
But his focus stayed on the travel plans. His eyes kept scanning the surroundings. Like a guard dog on alert. Ensuring Aeneas's safety.
Aeneas stopped at the pier's edge. He turned to look back toward the hills.
There stood the Dardan estate and the peaks of Mount Ida.
Deep in the distant woods, he could almost see the shadow of the Red Bean Forest. Bandits still lurked there, unpunished.
He remembered his important plan—upon returning from Troy, he must rally his forces at once. Uproot that festering problem.
He looked north. That distant land, veiled by trees, was Troy. The city remembered in epic song.
On the surface, this trip was a show of sacrifice. But the real question was—to confirm if Paris had already committed an irreparable folly? Was the countdown to war already ticking silently?
The young man looked down, murmuring to himself: "The future shouldn't be a pre-written epic. It should be a fresco I carve with my own hands. Every crack will be a mark of our defiance against fate."
He spoke very softly. But the three around him fell silent. Nisus gripped the tray tighter. Euryalus's smile vanished. Achates's eyes grew more grave.
They didn't understand what their young lord carried in his heart. But they knew one thing. They would entrust their lives to him. Follow him into that uncertain future.
The ferryman had the boat ready. The plank was set against the pier. Aeneas took a deep breath. Turned. Stepped onto the plank.