Nisus looked up.
For a moment, his pupils contracted slightly. His breath seemed to hitch.
He rose slowly. His back was ramrod straight. His voice was low, clear. "Aesacus… Your Highness."
He was silent for a beat. Then he added the long-unused address—
"…Brother. It's been a long time."
That single word, 'Brother', made Euryalus scramble to his feet. His greeting was earnest. "So you are Prince Aesacus."
Aesacus's gaze swept over the three of them. It finally settled on Nisus.
He didn't speak immediately. He just looked quietly at that face, both familiar and strange.
A long moment passed before he spoke. His voice was even, soft. "Mother… Is she well, on Mount Ida?"
Nisus's fingers tightened slightly.
"Her health remains frail," he replied calmly. "But far from the noise of the world. Her mind is at peace."
The words were few. The tone was restrained, almost devoid of emotion.
Silence spread. Even the cicadas outside the window seemed distant.
Euryalus watched the two of them. He finally couldn't resist adding softly, "We… often speak of you at home."
Aesacus seemed momentarily taken aback. A bitter smile touched his lips.
The smile was gentle, yet like a thin mist. "Is that so… Good."
He lowered his eyes. Fingers brushed the sleeve.
The stitchwork—sun and eagle. The royal mark.
But to him, that gold thread looked like chains. Invisible ones.
"I often dream of her," he said quietly, almost to himself.
"In the dreams, she is still young. Standing at the citadel gate. Watching me quietly. Then she turns and leaves…"
He stopped mid-sentence. He looked up with a pained smile. "Knowing she is well… that sets my mind at ease."
Nisus lowered his gaze. His voice was faint, barely audible. "The winds on Mount Ida… are much freer than here."
Aesacus heard this. The bitterness in his smile deepened.
"Yes…" he whispered in reply.
Silence fell again.
Then the heavy bronze door was pushed open slowly. Aeneas walked in.
Behind him, two women walked side-by-side. Their auras were completely different.
—One was gentle and dignified like laurel in spring. Her eyes were soft.
The wife of Hector, Princess of Troy—Andromache.
The other was as cold and beautiful as winter frost. Her features held an unusual aloofness.
Even her gait carried a palpable 'keep your distance' aura.
—This was Creusa. One of Priam's most treasured daughters.
Nisus and Euryalus exchanged a glance. They rose immediately.
Achates also stood. He bowed to the three newcomers with respectful steadiness.
Aesacus offered a faint smile. He stepped forward first.
"Andromache. Creusa. It has been a long time."
Andromache responded at once with a gentle smile. Her tone was like a soft breeze. She bowed.
"You look as steady and reliable as ever, Aesacus."
Creusa merely inclined her head. Her face was calm. Almost cold.
Her eyes—stormy gray-blue. Like a storm over the sea.
She looked at Aesacus for a moment. Then looked away.
She didn't even grant Aeneas a spare look.
Aesacus turned to Aeneas instead. His expression was inquiring.
"You must be Aeneas, the young lord of the Dardan valley.
I've heard of your reputation—
The son of the Love Goddess. A future champion in many eyes."
Aeneas gave a slight nod. A polite smile touched his lips.
"I hope my future actions won't disappoint those legends too much."
After the brief pleasantries, Aesacus gave a slight bow of farewell. He left the lounge with measured steps.
The door closed again. Andromache turned. Her gaze settled on Creusa.
She reached out and gently took Creusa's hand—
"Don't always wear such a stern face. Aeneas seems quite nice."
Creusa's brow furrowed slightly. She looked back at Andromache. Her tone remained cool. "I have no interest in this arranged match."
Andromache only chuckled softly. She didn't argue.
"Then treat it as a chance to walk outside the walls!
The palace is too stifling. You should get some fresh air."
She then turned to Aeneas. Her voice was gentle.
"Aeneas, my sister rarely leaves the palace.
I'll entrust her to you for a walk through the city."
Aeneas smiled lightly. He bowed respectfully. "The honor is mine, Your Highness Andromache."
Andromache smiled, satisfied. A hint of teasing entered her tone.
"Good. Creusa, don't waste this lovely weather, or my efforts."
She gave Creusa a gentle push on the back. The gesture was soft, but held a hint of insistence.
Creusa was propelled half a step forward. Her skirts swayed.
She finally looked at Aeneas—
It was a look of pure, polite, I genuinely have no desire to interact with you.
"Shall we, then, young lord of the Dardan valley." Her voice was flat. Unreadable.
Aeneas gave a slight bow. He smiled. "To walk with the Princess is a great privilege."
Andromache's smile was warm as a spring breeze. She gave Creusa another little push.
"Go on. Enjoy this precious time."
Aeneas and Creusa stood side by side. On the main road, before the citadel gate.
The afternoon sun slanted over the citadel. Troy looked wrapped in golden armor.
The distant sea shimmered with sparkling light. The wind blew from the Hellespont. It carried a salty warmth.
A little behind, Achates, Nisus, and Euryalus followed.
They kept their distance. Close enough to guard. Not close enough to bother.
Ahead, only the two young figures walked in silence along the flagstone path.
The air was stiff at first.
Creusa looked straight ahead. Her steps were measured. The hem of her dress swayed gently in the breeze. Her expression was cold, elegant.
Like a beautifully crafted, but utterly soulless, Barbie doll—well… the princess edition…
Aeneas seemed slightly awkward. He didn't know what to do with his hands. He settled for resting them casually on his hips, pretending nonchalance.
"This is genuinely troublesome…" he wryly thought to himself.
"Forty-five years single in my past life. Zero dating experience. Now I'm on a blind date with ancient royalty? Is the difficulty setting broken?
I… I just came here for a meal, damn it…"
He sighed inside. Took a quick look at the girl beside him.
Aeneas ran a hand through his dark-gold curls.
Muttered something low. Half joke. Half shame.
"She's truly beautiful. But I'm just an old man with extensive experience in being single… I have no idea how to flirt… especially with an ancient girl"
Creusa's steps faltered slightly. She turned her head. Her long lashes fluttered. Her eyes held a trace of confusion and wariness. "What did you say?"
Aeneas's heart jumped. He gave an awkward, dry chuckle. He waved a hand dismissively. "Ah, nothing! I just said—uh, I'm a bit nervous too, actually."
Creusa's normally icy expression shifted almost imperceptibly. The corner of her cold, snow-like lips quirked upward in a tiny, barely-there curve.
"You're nervous?" Her tone held a hint of subtle amusement. It was the first flicker of curiosity she'd shown toward him.
"Yeah," Aeneas shrugged, keeping his tone light. "First time being set up… uh, on a date with a beautiful woman. And a 'royal command performance' date at that."
"Date?" Creusa frowned a little, thinking over the strange word.
For a moment, she looked shifted from aloof to confused.
Then she let out a small laugh. Quick and soft.
It was brief, genuine. Like the first crack in a sheet of ice.
"You speak very strangely." She shook her head.
Seeing this, Aeneas also relaxed. He grinned. "If speaking strangely makes you laugh, I'll be even stranger!"
Creusa looked at him. The chill in her eyes slowly receded. She didn't speak again. She just turned her head and continued walking forward.
The distance between them seemed to close, silently.
In the distance, Euryalus couldn't resist nudging Nisus with his elbow. He whispered with a sly grin,
"See? I told you the Young Master has a way with women! He's not doing so badly, is he?"
Nisus responded with a sharp, heavy elbow back. He hissed a low rebuke. "Shut up. Follow quietly."
Achates's gaze followed Aeneas—the Young Master always found his own way. Of this, he was quite confident.
They looked out over the city of Troy from the height. The view before them was vast and magnificent.
Below, the lower city of Troy spread out. A dense, jumbled maze of rooftops.
Beyond the walls, the harbor was a forest of masts. The sea breeze carried a salty, fishy scent. It mixed with the faint noise rising from the city.
Aeneas murmured softly, almost to himself.
"It's a truly beautiful city…
A pity its branches have grown too heavy for its shallow roots…"
Creusa looked at him, a little startled.
She didn't catch the meaning, thought he was just talking about the view.
Her voice gained a hint of pride. "This is Troy. The strongest city in the eyes of the world."
Aeneas watched her profile, now slightly softened. A faint smile crossed his lips, but he said nothing.
He looked back at the city. The rooftops shining under the sun.