A/N: So, there isn't much in history about the first nine years of war. Most of the sources choose to talk about the events of the Iliad, leading up to Achilles' death, and after it. But I find that just skipping forward ten years is a bit detrimental to the story I'm trying to build up. And so, using the vague information from the Cypria (first work of the Epic Cycle), I'm going to be recreating the events of the first nine years of war, in four chapters.

After chapter fourteen, the story in the Iliad will serve as Arc III of Excidium Troiae, in my own version, of course. While publishing these chapters of Arc II, I'm working on the next arc of The Guardians. Hunters of the Sun has to stay on hold for a little while longer, I'm afraid. Hopefully I can finish these arcs of these stories and publish my newest work—To Conquer the Darkness, before I have to leave for boarding school in April. Enjoy the chapter!

PS—If you haven't' please please check my profile on fanfiction . net, there's a poll I need answers to, and it closes tomorrow.

-TripleHomicide.

ACHILLES folded his arms as he listened to the news the scout had brought back. Patroclus was at his side, looking worried and a bit nervous. Achilles nodded to the soldier and waved his hand, telling him that he was dismissed. Finally, the Prince turned to his best friend and said, "I think we can attack now."

Patroclus nodded, although his worried glance did not fade. They had arrived in Dardania about two days ago, and since then he had been sending out scouts to check out the terrain. Aeneas and Perseus had somehow found out about the plan of the Greeks, and they had arrived in the city just a few hours before Achilles, in time for them to spread out thousands of Trojan and Dardanian soldiers around the city gates in anticipation for Achilles' arrival. He had been shocked to see the two brothers there when they had camped a distance away, but he knew now not to underestimate them.

They had friends in the right places—the gods—even more so than he, and since one was immortal and killing the other was forbidden by the council, they would be a formidable foe to contend with. But he wasn't one to run in the face of danger. He might not be able to kill them, but he would be taking Dardania. He had to show the other Greeks that his plan was a good one—failing at the first try would discourage them all, and they would be too scared to try to take the other cities around Ilios.

He sighed in frustration. Aeneas had retreated into his city to speak to the people, but Perseus was still keeping watch at the gates. He hadn't left his spot since they had arrived, and that worried Achilles.

It had been Patroclus who came up with the idea, and now, they were camped a few feet away from the farms surrounding Dardania—specifically where Aeneas' cattle were kept. "We steal the cattle now," Achilles nodded. "When Achilles and Perseus see me here, they shall come. And when they do, you attack the city with Phoenix." He saddled his horse, and jumped onto it. At that, the men he had selected assembled around him.

"Wait," The voice made him turn. He arched an eyebrow when he spotted Calchas, moving towards him from among the soldiers. The seer had insisted on coming with him, and so far he hadn't seen anything of importance. But maybe, now…

"What is it, Calchas?" Patroclus asked.

"I just had a vision," The prophet stopped in front of them. "There is a boy on the farm, a child, really, who has barely seen twelve summers. He is the youngest son of Priam and the brother of Aeneas' wife." Achilles frowned. How did that help them, exactly? "He takes care of the cattle and sheep when the cowherd Eurytion is not present. I saw, that if he is allowed to reach twenty summers, Troy shall never fall. He shall drive away our forces, and aid the immortal son of Anchises in killing you, Achilles." The son of Thetis paled, pursing his lips. "You must slay him."

A child, who posed a threat to the victory of the Achaeans. He had known that something like this would likely happen. Women and children suffered the most in war, and although he did not like it, if what Calchas said was true, the boy was an even bigger threat than Aeneas, Perseus or Hector. He scowled to himself, suddenly angry that he had to make such a decision. But he couldn't allow the boy to kill him. He glanced up to Calchas, and nodded, "I'll do it." He paused. "I don't like it, but I'll do it."

"What does the boy look like?" Patroclus stepped in.

"He has hair darker than night, and the bluest eyes you will ever see," The seer told them. "He should not be hard to miss. But you must kill him. If he escapes today…" He trailed off.

Achilles was starting to hate this man more and more. First, he had said there would be ten years of battle before Troy fell. He had almost had Agamemnon sacrifice his own daughter. Then he had supported Odysseus when he had said Philoctetes had to be left on Lemnos. And now, he was telling Achilles to commit child-slaughter, because of a vision he had seen. Something which they had no proof of.

He sighed. It would not do well to think of such matters. Aeneas would come when news reached him of his cattle being stolen and his farmers slaughtered. Perseus would follow just to see and fight Achilles again. And then, Patroclus would storm the city and take it from them, while Achilles distracted and captured the two brothers. It was a smart plan, and he prayed to the gods that it would work. He turned to nod to his friend, saying, "Be safe." He had already informed Phoenix and his other advisors and lieutenants of the plan. The army would be following Patroclus and Phoenix to take Dardania, while two hundred Myrmidons went with him to serve as a distraction.

"You too," Patroclus looked up at him. "We shall move immediately we hear them coming."

"Good," He acknowledged. Without another word, he kicked his steed at the side and they were racing down the hill and towards the farms, his two hundred soldiers following behind him.

-X-

AENEAS cursed to himself as he raced towards the farms. When the news had come, he had wanted to go immediately. The farmers were innocent, and most of them could not defend themselves. How could Achilles think of targeting them in this way? He had thought the man respectable and dignified, but clearly he was not, if he was willing to kill unarmed men. What was worse was that his brother-in-law, a young boy who Priam had entrusted to him and Creusa, Troilus, was there, at Aeneas' own portion of the farms, looking over his cattle.

If any harm came to the Prince of Troy…

Aeneas swore once more and ordered his horse to move faster with a loud, "Hiya!" The five hundred men he had taken with him were also on horseback, leaving many more back at the city to defend it. He had wanted to amass all his forces to get to Achilles, but Perseus had easily seen through the ploy and had decided to stay back at the city, along with most of the army. Whoever tried to take it while Aeneas was away would meet an unpleasant end. He sped down a path and then up a hill, the thunderous sound of the horses following him. He had to protect the innocents, return Troilus back to his city, and make sure his sheep were not taken—the animals were worth a lot of money, and Dardania's finances would be depleted if he allowed them to be taken.

He skidded to a stop at the hill overlooking the farm, and glanced around. They had clearly been here. He looked down, where he could see several men in bronze armour, less than two hundred, in fact—which meant Perseus had been correct in his assessment— roaming around the fields and killing anything that breathed. His own farm was relatively untouched, but even from where he was, he could see the fair haired warrior prince riding towards it on a white steed. "Let's go!" Aeneas ordered. "Kill them all, but do not challenge Achilles. He is mine!" With a deafening roar, he charged down the mountain side, followed closely by his soldiers.

-X-

PERSEUS waited patiently at the ramparts, arms behind his back. Beside him stood three of the Generals of the Dardanian army, Sergestus, Acmon, and Palinurus, and lining up the entire ramparts were several archers, bows and arrows primed. They were silent as they watched the terrain down below. Aeneas had left a few minutes ago with a quarter of their forces, on Perseus' advice. The rest of the army was currently just outside the gates, waiting in expectancy for what Perseus knew was coming. He would not pretend to know Achilles in and out, no, but the son of Thetis and Perseus' own best friend, Hector, were similar.

They were both great strategists and they both thrived in battle. Knowing Hector for as long as he had—nearly fifteen years, now—he knew, that all great warriors thought alike. Predicting the move Achilles would make had been easy, and now all they had to do was wait. Trying to determine what the distraction would be had been hard, though, but the overconfident arse had solved that for them, and he had sent Aeneas on his way with enough men to take down Achilles' force. If the Prince of Pythia wanted to take Dardania, he would send the bulk of his army to the city.

Which was exactly what he was doing. Perseus' eyes narrowed when he saw the lines of soldiers marching towards the city gates, led by a familiar dark haired man with stubble along his jaw—Achilles' friend, Patroclus, the one from Skyros.

"You were right," Acmon snorted in disbelief. "They came."

"Of course," Perseus said. "You know what to do, then. Make sure they don't breach the walls. I'll handle their commander."

"Normally, I wouldn't take orders from anyone but the King," Sergestus commented. "But you have proven to be insightful, Perseus. Do what you do best, then." Without another word they turned, to rush down to join the men, obviously. Perseus waited for a while, waiting, waiting, for the enemy to get closer. He unlatched his spear from his back, and took aim. Shutting one of his eyes, he bent the spear so it was primed at the commander's chest.

With a silent word of prayer to Leto, he hurled the weapon. It pierced through the air, sailing through the atmosphere, and Perseus watched as it neared the dark haired man. But then at the last second Patroclus veered to the right on his steed, and the spear cut through one of the soldiers behind him. Perseus swore to himself, and drew his sword.

"Fire at will," He ordered. At the command, several arrows were released into the sky, and he watched as they tore through men, slowing down Achilles' forces.

He was immortal now, and there was no doubt the message had been spread through the Achaean forces. They would be steering clear of him. He didn't like it, but he had to use that to his advantage. Achilles' men would not get Dardania.

Not today, not ever.

-X-

ACHILLES swore to himself when Aeneas jumped down from his horse. He tore his sword out of the chest of the child, who collapsed, trying to ignore the broken and horrified expression the son of Priam wore in death. The King had brought about five hundred men, but there was no sign of his brother amongst them. Quickly, he readied himself for battle. Fighting Aeneas without killing him would be tasking, but he could manage it. The sounds of battle were loud, but they did not distract him. He had already had the sheep of the Dardanian king transported away from the farm, and now all he had to do was to keep the Dardanian forces occupied.

But where was Perseus? Had the son of Anchises chosen to remain at the city to defend it? If that was true, then it meant Patroclus was walking to his death. Panic flooded Achilles and he cursed to himself again as Aeneas charged him. He ducked under the first swing of the man. How had Perseus known what he would plan? Achilles raised his sword and parried another strike, before spinning and slashing at Aeneas' neck. The King was fast. With expert movement, he leaned back, making the blade slice through air.

Aeneas backtracked, and Achilles took that opportunity to launch himself forward. He was met by two crossed blades, and he gritted his teeth in annoyance as they both tried to push each other back. Ultimately, Achilles succeeded, and the man went stumbling. He took advantage of his unbalance then, diving forward and attacking quickly and precisely. But Aeneas had expected this. With equal swiftness he parried all his strikes, and blocked all his attacks. Achilles was at a disadvantage and he knew it—Aeneas carried no shield, which made his defence lower, but he held two swords which made moving easier for him. If he decided to go on the offensive, Achilles would have a hard time. His own shield was large and cumbersome, and it was slowing him down.

He swiped upwards with his shield arm, but the son of Aphrodite dodged underneath the bronze addition to his armour, and slammed his shoulder into Achilles' torso, sending him flying. He landed in a heap in the grass, and swearing to himself, removed the shield. He jumped onto his feet just a second later, and just in time to block a strike from the dark eyed King of Dardania.

They fought for what seemed like hours, exchanging blows, dodging strikes and attacks, slashing at each other. But Aeneas knew not of his weak spot, and was simply hitting any bit of flesh he could find, which was proving to be a futile exercise. Achilles had already dotted the King with cuts and slashes, not enough to be fatal, but enough to slow him down considerably. They kept on battling, each of them fighting for dominance in their duel. Achilles ducked under a wild swing but was too slow to avoid the blade of the second sword slamming into his cheek. It stung.

Eyes lighting up with fury, he attacked with a roar. Aeneas parried his first strike, and dodged his second, but Achilles feinted a strike to his side and when the man made to move, he slashed at his side, opening up his armour and leaving the skin bloodied and cut. Aeneas grimaced, but ignored the injury.

"Why did you kill Troilus?" The man finally demanded. "He was not part of this war! He was just a child!"

"It was necessary!" Achilles shot back, not quite sure why he was defending himself. "Had he seen twenty summers, he would have led Troy to victory and seen to my death!"

"I shall see to your death!" Aeneas bellowed in anger. "Me, and Perseus, and Hector and every Trojan who you have wronged by taking the life of an innocent child! Every one shall jubilate when the gods strike you down! I do not care when, or where it happens, but I shall watch you die, and I shall revel in the fact that it was someone of my city—my home, which you try to take from us—who brought your end!" Rage lit up in Achilles, and he raced forward, yelling. Aeneas let out a roar and charged, swords glinting in the sunlight. They clashed again, and the fighting continued.

-X-

PERSEUS whirred around the soldier, and slashed sideways with his sword. The head of the man fell and his body slumped. Around him the soldiers of Achilles were being repelled. He laughed loudly, and quite maniacally, driving his sword through the chest of an oncoming enemy. He ducked low under the thrust of a spear and sliced upwards, cutting it into two. And then he rose, spinning and slamming his newly acquired spear into the man's helmet, sending him crumpling.

Perseus and the three Generals had kept the line of men. The Greeks fought in a disorganised unit, and not like a group, as him and the rest of the soldiers had been taught to do. They came in droves, and so far, only the first line of Trojan and Dardanian soldiers had been pushed back, merging with the second line. Perseus stood at the head of it all, fighting back any enemy that came too close, with both his sword and spear. If they got past him, then the soldiers would cut them down. The Achaeans were losing, and they could see it. Perseus finally turned, and yelled out a command, ordering the first three lines to join the fray.

He led them into battle against the Myrmidons; warriors who supposedly could not be killed easily. But many fell under the weight of his blade, and many more were left injured and dying as he swept his spear around. He ducked low under the swing of a lance and sidestepped another blow. Looking up, he blocked the next strike and scowled. It was the dark haired man who he had tried to kill when they had begun charging for Dardania. Patroclus.

"Achilles seeks to take control of my brother's city, and he doesn't come himself to do it?" He scoffed. "Did he think we would not see through his little ploy to get us away from the gates?" The man didn't answer, instead choosing to glare at him. Perseus returned the expression, and they met in battle.

The fight was a ferocious one. They traded blows, hacks and jabs, and he dodged all the strikes of the man. However good Achilles was, this man, along with most of his army, paled in comparison. His moves were sloppy at best, and slow. Besting him would not be a difficult task. He spun, sweeping dust into the air with his foot. Patroclus yelled out when he was blinded, and Perseus took that opportunity to kick him onto the ground. With a laugh of satisfaction, he raised his sword above his head, determined to see the end of this man.

Patroclus was blinking a lot, trying to open his eyes but to no avail. He could feel that his death was near, for he kept attempting to scramble back. Perseus brought his sword down.

Only to be intercepted by another sword. It was an older man. Aged, but well built. Patroclus' eyes peeled open and he gasped in relief. "Phoenix—"

"We are being overwhelmed!" The man, Phoenix yelled. "Call for a tactical retreat!" The man turned his attention back to Perseus, who had narrowed his eyes. They both pushed against each other, swords grinding against each other as he tried to unbalance the man. The son of Anchises watched as Patroclus scrambled to his feet. "Retreat!" The man yelled "Fall back!"

Scoffing to himself, he muttered, "Cowards."

Phoenix swore at him, and suddenly ripped himself away, causing Perseus to fall forward in surprise. He face planted in the ground, but quickly looked up, only to find the enemy racing away from him at unimaginable speed. Cursing, he stood. Perseus watched on as soldiers dashed past him in pursuit of the Achaeans. Arrows from the ramparts rained down on the Myrmidons, cutting down a lot more as they attempted to leave. He smirked to himself. Achilles would never get Dardania. Not as long as he lived.

-X-

AENEAS sighed to himself, as the body of Troilus was burnt to ashes. Beside him stood his brother, as sombre as ever. Achilles hadn't tried to attack again. In fact, he had seen the men of the Phthian retreating and after several days of checking around the terrain for anyone who stayed behind, he had finally decided his city was safe. Creusa was to return home that day, but he couldn't even think about what he would tell her. That her youngest brother, a boy who had been like a son to them, had been slaughtered simply because Achilles was scared of death?

He snorted to himself. The fire was slowly dying down, and the ashes were being carried by the wind. He didn't know which city Achilles and his warriors would try to take next, but should they attempt to return to Dardania, he would be ready. He was cut off from his musings by the voice of Acmon. "My Lord," The General bowed. "The Queen has reached here safely."

Aeneas nodded, and said, 'Thank you for informing me. Where is she?"

"In your chambers, My Lord," The man said. Aeneas bobbed his head once more. He had to tell her what had happened…she would grieve for her brother, but they would get over his death, together, and he would avenge Troilus, one way or another. He turned to glance at his brother, and the green eyed man waved and said, "Go to her." Aeneas smiled appreciably and was gone.

He had hoped to be well dressed when he would see her, but with everything that had been going on…He sighed. He was still in his armour, and he was beginning to grow a beard. He frowned at the thought. Such a thing suited Hector, who looked amazing with his cleanly shaven beard, but Aeneas preferred to look well groomed, unlike his barbarian of a best friend. Smiling to himself sadly at the thought of him, he continued his journey towards his chambers.

He found her seated on the bedside, her head bowed. She looked up when she heard him coming, and said softly. "Is it true?"

He nodded, and swallowed. Creusa sighed sadly, and he moved to sit next to her. "I promise you," He murmured, taking her hand. "I shall not make his death be in vain. I'll see to it that he is avenged." She nodded, and then glanced at him.

"I didn't expect to have such bad news handed to me on my arrival," She whispered, leaning on him. "I would have waited, if I had known—"

"But you couldn't have," He told her. "What is it you want to tell me? I would prefer any good news over what's happening now." She looked up at him, and he was reminded again of the reason he loved his wife so much. He smiled at her, and prompted. "Go on."

She glanced away, and then back at him. "I—I'm expecting." Instantly he froze. His heart seemed to stop beating, blood freezing, and his eyes widened as shock engulfed him. Creusa looked at him, trying to gauge his reaction. He glanced down at her belly, and then back at her face. And then a grin spread out on his face and he crashed into her, wrapping his arms around her.

"I'm going to be a father!" He sounded incredulous, and he laughed with pure ecstasy. Creusa joined in and that alone sent all thought of Troilus out of his mind. He couldn't believe…He had been waiting so long…

He was going to have a child. He was going to be a father! "Oh, my gods," He pulled away, eyes still wide. "You're sure? I'm—"

"Yes, Aeneas," She rolled her eyes. "We're going to be parents." He beamed at her, and pulled her into a hug once more.

Sure, there was a war going on, and sure men were being killed left and right. But he would protect his child from it all. He would lay down his life for them, and he would make sure they never saw what happened in this stupid war. He would fight for them. He would fight for his family. He pulled away once more and grinned.

After all, nothing screamed hope more than the expectancy of a new life.

-X-

PERSEUS sat on the edge of the ramparts, smiling to himself and lost in thought. He was going to be a bloody uncle. A grin threatened to break his face in half, and he almost forgot about the war, Apollo, and his immortality. He was going to be an uncle! He was so distracted, he barely heard the sound signalling a deity had flashed in behind him.

"I see you have overcome your grief, then," Selene's voice cut through his thoughts. He turned to face her, and the smile on his face was a genuine one. "Creusa and my brother are expecting their first child," He explained. Selene smiled at him, and said, "Well, congratulations, then."

A sudden thought hit him, and he tilted his head to the side, asking, "Do you have any children?"

The Titaness gazed at the horizon wistfully. "Once, I did. I loved a man, a lot, and asked Lord Zeus to make him ageless and deathless in sleep. By him I had fifty daughters." His eyes widened. That was a lot of children to have by one man. "And they have long since passed, as did their father, once Zeus' spell was broken a few millennia ago." She glanced at him. "But enough about me. I came here to check up on you. How did your first week of immortality treat you?"

At that his expression soured and he glanced away. If he was being totally honest, he tried not to think about it. Sure, there were so many benefits of being immortal. But the disadvantages were much, much more in his opinion. He sighed, then glanced at his side, where the black haired deity now stood, gazing towards the sky.

"I suppose it's been fine," He said quietly. "Although I find I do not need to sleep anymore. Or eat."

"But old habits die hard," She told him. "And you still do those things?"

"Yes," He nodded.

Selene looked thoughtful and turned to face him. "Do not worry. It gets better." She passed, then said, "But, I am inclined to believe you are using it to get an advantage in the war?"

He snorted, then said, "Yes, of course. I would be a fool not to."

"Good," She nodded. They sat in silence for what seemed like hours. Finally, she said, "I'd better go, then. You seem well. Next time we meet, I hope you are better."

She began melting into silver mist but then he spoke up, mind whirring, emotions slamming into him as he stared at the being that had comforted him when everything had gone sideways. "Thank you," He whispered.

She cocked her head to the side in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You listened," He replied simply. "You were there. You're a great friend, Selene."

"Friend?" She looked even more confused and he laughed lightly at her expression.

"Yes, friend," He jumped down and turned to face her. "You can't have seen me cry and not be my friend. It's unacceptable."

She grinned. "Well, I suppose that's fair."

"It is," He told her. She smiled, "I'll see you soon, then."

"See you." When he blinked, she was gone.

-X-

HECTOR had been celebrating the news he had received from Aeneas when the call for help had come. Dardania had been protected, his sister was going to bear a child, and his friend was coping well with immortality. Hades, even Achilles had been repelled and had left. Things were good, even with the war at their doorstep. But that train of thought had been shattered just that morning, when a messenger from Pedasus had brought news that the cunning King of Ithaca was on his way there.

His father had instructed him to go at once. And after a message had been sent to Perseus, he had led half of his army to Pedasus to help defend it. They had arrived at the city a few minutes earlier and on his command, Hector had led the army into the fray. He tore through men as he ran, slicing off heads and limbs, stabbing at anything that looked like an enemy. Men gave him a wide berth as he went, most of them scared to be killed at his hand. But a few were stupid enough.

Hector dodged under a spear and sidestepped another thrust. He jabbed his sword into the shoulder of the man and wrenched it out, before slitting a line in his throat. He heard another yell, and glanced to his sides, where three men were coming for him. They attacked at once and using a move he had been taught by Perseus, he disarmed the first and sliced his head off. He parred a strike from the second and kicked him back, before running him through. Suddenly he grunted in pain. The third warrior had sliced a gash through his armour, and his side was bleeding profusely.

Swearing at the man, he sidestepped another blow, and slammed his elbow into his attacker. Without waiting, he drove his sword into the fallen man's back.

Hector could tell they were losing. His reinforcements had come a little too late, and the Greeks had pushed the Pedasians all the way to their gates. Agamemnon was there, being pressed by King Altes and at least five men at the entrance to the city. Odysseus, Athena's favoured, was slicing through soldiers with a broadsword as large as Hector's arm, and bashing heads in with his shield. Hector didn't think—he raced the other way, heading to the King of Ithaca.

Odysseus saw him coming and laughed, "Prince Hector! It has been a while, hasn't it? I have heard much about your conquests since you ran from Sparta." He swung his sword.

"All good things, I hope?," Hector readied himself.

"Oh, yes," Odysseus nodded. "I almost feel sorry that I have to kill you." At that, they both shot forward. They met, sword against sword, sparks lighting at the contact. Hector pushed the man back, and swung his sword. Odysseus ducked under his attack, and jabbed at him. But Hector anticipated this, and sidestepped. The King ducked lower, attempting to sweep his feet from beneath him, but Hector dove over the limb, and spun, landing on the ground behind him.

Odysseus laughed. He turned, slashing at Hector, but the son of Priam ducked low, avoiding the blow. Sudden pain hit him, from his injured side, and he clutched his wound. Odysseus didn't miss the opportunity. He kicked out, sending Hector onto his back. With another mad laugh, the King raised his sword to end him. Cursing, he rolled to the side, just in time to avoid the blow, and slashed sideways with his blade. Odysseus cried out in pain as Hector's weapon tore through his calf.

Hector jumped to his feet, backtracked and grinned at the grimace on the dark haired man's face.

"You fight well," Odysseus told him. "But one of us shall die here today."

Hector scoffed, and the two met in battle once more. There was no telling who was better. They battled, exchanging blows, trading slashes and stabs, jabbing at each other, and blocking strikes. Neither of them were able to land another hit, but Hector would not be letting him get past into Pedasus. He was so occupied with his own fight that he did not notice Achilles until it was too late.

The fair haired warrior soared past them on a white horse, a grin plastered on his face. Hector was startled into inaction. Odysseus took that opportunity to knock his sword out of his hand, and dashed after the Phthian. "To the walls!" Achilles' cry rang out across the battlefield. As if on cue, all the soldiers of Achilles, Agamemnon and Odysseus raced for the walls of Pedasus. The broken body of King Altes lay on the ground, being trampled by the many warriors headed for the city. Some were already climbing the ramparts, and the gates were opening steadily. Hector swore to himself, grabbing his spear from behind him. He stood still, taking aim.

He couldn't hit any of his soldiers and allies, but if he aimed it right…

He let the spear go, and it sailed through the air, tearing through the back of a soldier close to Achilles. The man fell, but the fair haired prince didn't stop. He was the first to go through the gates of the city, closely followed by Odysseus and the High King. Almost all their soldiers went in after them. Several of the Pedasians and Trojans were pursuing. But the gates were already closing, and Hector felt despair set in as he darted forward to join his men at the gates.

They had lost Pedasus to the Greeks. And he had a feeling that that was only the beginning.