Nisus had been half-leaning in his chair. At his father's words, he immediately sat upright. His expression turned serious.
Euryalus still wore a slight smirk. But his eyes flickered. He clearly loved these "behind-the-scenes stories" more than anyone.
Hyrtacus tapped the table lightly. His voice held a bitter edge. "Priam… He can shake your hand with a smile. And cut your lifeline without a second thought. He'll do anything for gain. The feasts and laughter in his court are often more dangerous than the battlefield."
Arisbe took over. Her movements were graceful. She raised a hand, gently touching her wrist. The bracelet was long gone. Yet she seemed to feel its icy restraint. Her voice was low but clear. "He abandoned the one who shared his bed—his closest companion. If that means nothing to him, then what does loyalty even mean?"
She let out a soft "heh." The laugh held no joy. Only mockery. "He thinks he can rely on courtly schemes. That he can tame this sea. He forgets the ocean doesn't care who wears a crown." Her gaze swept over the young men in the room. It softened into a mother's concern. "When dealing with vipers and jackals, never let your guard down. Not even if he wears a crown and offers you a feast."
The fire in the hearth crackled. It lit up Nisus's resolute face. His mind was churning. (Was the shadow over the capital really so deep? I thought loyalty was enough. Skill with a bow and hunt… Now it seems we're stepping into a swamp full of hidden currents. Are we truly ready?)
Euryalus sneered inwardly. His eyes held a challenging glint. (Heh. The capital's glitter and dirty secrets sound more fun than the beasts in the wilds. If it's a play they want, let's see how well they perform this game of power.)
Arisbe's voice came again. This time, it was like a whisper that went straight to the heart. "When the time comes, keep your eyes open. Watch the undercurrents for Aeneas. The birds in the forest sense it first before the quake. Some news is more useful than swords."
Nisus took a deep breath. He finally spoke. His voice was decisive. "Aeneas goes to Troy tomorrow. Euryalus and I should go with him."
Hyrtacus looked at his son. His expression held both worry and undeniable pride. He nodded slowly. His tone was low but firm. "Hmm… Starting tomorrow, then. Fulfill your duty. Remember. The bow in your hand is a weapon for fighting. But your eyes are the torches that reveal the truth."
The firelight flickered. It illuminated their solemn faces. The warm cottage no longer held laughter. It was replaced by a faint chill—an omen from the capital's shadow, settling over them quietly.
******
In the hunter's hut, the embers in the fire pit glowed dimly. A log cracked now and then. Sending out faint sparks. Dinner was over. Clay bowls were stacked neatly by the wall. Outside, the night was still. Only the wind rustling the treetops. Bringing a crisp, cold air.
Hyrtacus sat in the corner. His back against the rough wall. He held the old bow. A crack ran along its limb. He ran his thumb over it slowly. Like he was touching a scar.
Arisbe walked to the shrine. She took down a small oil lamp. Lit it. Placed it beneath the statue of the Huntress. The flickering flame lit her profile. Revealing a look of resolve, tinged with a faint sorrow. She murmured an ancient prayer. Her voice was almost swallowed by the night wind.
Nisus pushed the door open. Stepped outside. The night sky was a cascade of stars. He looked up. His fingers absently stroked the beast-tooth charm at his waist.
Euryalus leaned casually against the window frame. He toyed with the obsidian arrowhead pendant around his neck. His usual smirk played on his lips. But his eyes in the darkness were unusually sharp.
The room was quiet. But uneasy. By the fire, they seemed calm. But each held private thoughts. It was a still night. But not a peaceful one. The future was taking shape. Right there in the silence.
******
Deep in the palace of Troy, the night gathered. In the side chamber, a bronze lamp cast a pale blue flame. Shadows danced on the walls. Heavy drapes muffled the wind from the corridor. The air was thick with myrrh and frankincense.
Queen Hecuba sat on a long couch. A half-finished length of fine wool was spread across her lap. Her fingers worked the spindle with deft skill. The soft whirring sound was unusually clear in the quiet room.
"I've heard," Hecuba's voice was light and gentle, a mother's fond smile on her lips, "that Anchises's boy fought off a raging boar alone. Some say a goddess protects him. It's a favorable sign. If Troy can breed more young men like that, perhaps the gods still favor us."
Priam sat not far away. At a table inlaid with ivory. His hands were folded. He slowly rubbed the black onyx ring on his finger. The candlelight flickered in his deep-set eyes. It showed no emotion. A faint, ambiguous smile touched his lips. But his tone was as flat as ever. "Yes. Anchises does have a fine son. Youth and fire—good qualities, both."
But his eyes were unreadable. Like a shadowed sea.
Hecuba looked up at her husband. She seemed to search his face for some clue. Her smile vanished quickly. She sighed softly. Put down her spindle. "That cold look in your eyes," she said quietly. "I know that look all too well. You're wary of the boy, aren't you?"
Priam didn't answer at once. He stood. Walked slowly to the window. Beyond the heavy stone frame, the night was swallowing the city walls.
"Divine favor?" he finally murmured. A trace of a cold laugh in his tone. "If the boy is just a brave hunter, I'll give him honors. But if his fame keeps growing…"
His voice trailed off. As if conspiring with the night.
Hecuba's brow furrowed. She wanted to dissuade him. But held her tongue. She knew her husband's cunning and ruthlessness. It wasn't just a king's caution. It was political instinct.
Priam reached out. He brushed the war banner hanging on the stone wall. The deep red and gold weave shimmered like liquid in the candlelight. An unreadable glint passed through his eyes.
(If this power can be mine to wield,) He thought coldly, (it will be a great asset. If it cannot… it will become a grave threat.)
The bronze lamp in the side corridor flickered. From the depths of the hall came the low murmur of servants. The clink of the guards' armor.
Priam's finger tightened unconsciously around his ring. The sharp edge of the onyx bit into his knuckle. He slowly made a fist. As if gripping an invisible rope. After a brief silence, his decision was made. Whether through the court's spies, or by other, subtler means, he would turn his gaze to the Dardan Valley.
It was more than just fertile borderland. It could be a spark. A threat to his throne.
The candle flame trembled in the stillness. Priam's expression grew even more profound.
The moonlight lay quiet over Mount Ida's ridge. In Dardan Valley and Maple Ridge, cabin lights winked out one by one. Only the oil lamp before the goddess statue remained burning. Its weak flame trembled in the night wind. Like it guarded the last light of this peaceful land.
Inside, Nisus tossed and turned. The leather bedding rustled softly. His brow furrowed now and then. He seemed still tangled in Aeneas's words from the day.
"Don't think too much. At least we've got meat tonight, and wine tomorrow," Euryalus muttered in his sleep. He was already dead to the world, still grinning. His arm instinctively curled around the beast-tooth charm beside him.
In the darkness, Hyrtacus shifted slightly. "The children will leave this forest valley someday… But the road ahead won't be safe."
Arisbe's eyes flickered in the lamplight. Her fingers rubbed a black obsidian arrowhead. Her silent thought was firm. "The goddess will watch over them. Even if fate is cruel, I'd plead for protection with my own blood."
At the same moment, far in Troy's palace, night enveloped the towering walls. Priam stood beneath the colonnade. His eyes fixed on the starry sky. His rough fingers kept rubbing the black onyx ring. His face was calm as the sea. But hidden currents stirred beneath.
Beyond the palace walls, the Milky Way shimmered silently. It seemed to foretell tides of fate no one could control.
Back in Dardan Valley manor, Aeneas hunched over a desk. He scratched knowledge messily onto a wax tablet. He stopped halfway. Looked up at the empty room. Couldn't help a chuckle. "Heh. If tomorrow's venison roast causes a stir, I'll be the first food trendsetter this century…"
He mimed flipping the venison. As if he were really in the kitchen. He didn't know. The stone he'd casually tossed was causing ripples. Far beyond his imagination. From mountain cabins to Troy's palace, fates were quietly shifting.
The night view pulled back slowly. In the manor kitchen's shadows sat a clay pot. Its sealed lid hinted at wine. Inside, the roe deer meat was changing. Spices and wine seeped into every fiber. This simple dish might become another marvel for Aeneas.
Farther east, the Red Bean Forest stood silent in the dark. Like a beast lying in wait for dawn. Would it erupt in beacon fires? Or fade into silence? No one could tell.