Rain poured down from the skies, drenching the lands and the man who sat by the burnt out fire. As lighting flashed over head, he looked upwards, turning his face to the heavens and the Gods. Then he got to his feet, pulling on his helmet and lifting his round shield. He set off down the road, mud splattering his red cape and coating his feet as he walked, setting javelin in the dirt with each stride. The lightning flashed again, as if angry at his approach to the high burnt out city walls that came within his view. but he continued walking, ignoring the anger above him. His grey eyes were set on the road ahead, blocking out anything else around him.
The lightning illuminated his bronze armor, glancing off his helmet and the red plume there that now dragged in the rain. His shield, scrapped by many battles and dented in many places, rang out again and again as water struck it, but still he walked on. At last, he reached the large empty gates of the once proud city, slowing down for only a moment to look up the large stone walls to where two watch towers had once stood either side above the gate. now only open windows stared back, while his memory filled them with faces and people, waving and calling. Lowering his head, he trekked on, the dirt and mud about his feet now mingling with ash and charred wood.
Cheers echoed in his ears, coming from the empty walkways and gaps between the mighty pillars along the roads as he walked, specters of a now past time. Faces loomed at him, hands reached for him. Voices called to him, by name and by rank. But none of them touched him, passing through or around him as still onward he walked. The skeleton of the once proud city about him seemed to shrink before him, growing smaller and weaker then it had once been as man once more set foot within it. A great sadness at its downfall rested upon the man's proud shoulders as he continued, weighing him down more so than the rain ever could.
And then he came to the mighty temple. Marble shards of statues once tall were scattered over the floor, along with weapons and torn strips of fabric. Rubble crumbled about him, and dust floated up to great him as he passed into the room, through the tall pillars. He took off his helmet, letting it fall with a clatter to the floor as he headed to the great dias. Upon it once stood a noble statue that had sat in a white stone, traced with gold and precious stones as the morning light would strike it from between the pillars. But now, a headless statue was in its place. Hands were broken, and the stones had been ripped from it, leaving it bare in its once proud house. The head lay not far away from it, at its feet. The two empty eyes seemed to stare up at the man as he came to a stop, challenging him for an answer.
He fell to his knees before the statue, javelin clattering to the marble steps that had led up to the statue beside him as he looked upon what had once been a proud jewel in his home city. Now, like the rest of Troy, it was destroyed, and discarded. no longer to be used. Reaching forward with weather beaten and dirty hands, the soldier took up the head of the statue, resting it on the ground before him. Closing his eyes, he lifted his head and tilted it up to great the rain that trickled through the holes in the Temple roof. The rain now mingled with tears of terrible terrible guilt, guilt and sadness.
"Λυπάμαι" The man said in a hoarse and broken voice. He lowered his head to touch his forehead to that of the statue. "Έχω αποτύχει να Τροία"