The afternoon sun gilded the olive grove with a warm, golden light. The silvery leaves cast soft shadows across the dry earth. A breeze rustled through the branches, a whispering sound. The air smelled of sun-warmed bark, crushed grass, and distant flowers.
Aeneas knelt beneath a tree. A spread linen cloth held over a dozen delicately shaped clay bottles. His sun-bronzed fingers carefully handled the vessels. He focused on pouring different scented liquids into them. The faint mark on his neck was visible as he moved.
These pots still aren't perfect... he sighed inwardly. If only we could master glass. That transparency would truly suit these perfumes.
The small clay bottles were fine pieces, specially commissioned from his potter. Their surfaces were painted with simple sketches of goddesses like Aphrodite and Artemis. For this age, they were objects of rare elegance. Inside was his creation: primitive perfumes. Made by extracting essential oils from Trojan wild roses, rosemary, thyme, and mint into distilled alcohol and olive oil. Then carefully blended with more alcohol and distilled water.
A few days ago, after being with Thaleia... he'd remembered these experiments. A gentle smile touched his lips unbidden. He'd pulled her into the process, testing and mixing scents. It had been clumsy, filled with laughter... Seeing her delighted expression made this "crude" effort feel precious.
Nearby, Thaleia directed several maidservants arranging tables and chairs in a clearing among the olive trees. She wore a simple, elegant gown. Her long black hair was loosely tied up. Her movements held the poise and attentiveness of a mistress of the household. She carefully directed the placement of silver cups, clay plates, and baskets brimming with figs and honey cakes. Occasionally, she wiped her brow with the back of her hand. The sunlight danced in her deep brown eyes.
Aeneas looked up. Watched Thaleia's busy figure. A soft smile warmed his eyes. "Thaleia truly is a good wife," he murmured to himself. In his heart, shaped by modern values, titles like concubine or official wife mattered little. They were both the women he loved. Both were his wife in spirit.
Thaleia seemed to feel his gaze. She turned her head and gave him a radiant smile. It was gentle and full of happiness, warming Aeneas's heart. He smiled back. Returned to his perfumes. A rare feeling of peace and warmth filled him, one he'd seldom known since arriving in this world. The outside conflicts felt momentarily distant.
What were they preparing? The world's very first perfume-tasting event.
——
Soon, Aresya arrived, wearing a wreath of woven bay leaves. Her honey-gold curls framed blue eyes that blended a priestess's elegance with a mother's tenderness. She seemed to officially open the gathering. The other noble ladies began to arrive.
Dido's Phoenician crimson gown trailed over the grass. Her deep auburn waves were the picture of opulent grace. The most stunning arrival was Melanippe. For once, she had shed her leather armor. She wore a Greek-style chiffon gown. Her deep brown hair flowed freely. Her bronze skin glowed healthily in the sun. Her usually fierce demeanor was softened by a new, unexpected gentleness.
Ainippe looked her over, her chestnut ponytail swishing. She teased lightly, "Your Highness, dressed like that today, even the moon goddess Artemis would offer praise." Melanippe's cheeks flushed pink. She shot her a look, but for once, held her tongue.
The arrival of Terani, Oenone, Hesperia, and the other women soon filled the quiet olive grove with life. It became a living scene from a Greek myth.
Thaleia spread a linen cloth embroidered with the Dardan crest over the stone table. She carefully arranged the clay bottles. Beside each one, she placed a smooth river stone, marked with its name in red ochre: "Aphrodite's Morning Dew," "Artemis's Forest," and "Hera's Sovereignty." Her movements were graceful, her smile warm. She was a natural hostess, eagerly explaining the unique character of each scent to any lady who showed interest.
Aresya picked up a scented cloth and inhaled. A wave of delight shone in her eyes. "This fragrance... it reminds me of the morning dew in Aphrodite's temple gardens. Aeneas, my son, you've captured spring itself in this tiny vessel!"
Thaleia took the perfume called "Moonlight Spun." She dabbed it lightly on her wrist and the side of her neck. Then she moved naturally to stand beside Aeneas. The tips of her ears were pink. Her voice was soft but clear. "This scent reminds me of your study... the ever-present smell of parchment and mint..." As she spoke, her fingers subtly hooked onto the edge of his tunic.
Melanippe stood with her arms crossed, chin slightly raised, putting on a show of disdain. But her nose twitched almost imperceptibly. She snorted. "An Amazon's glory comes from her arrows and her courage! Not from these... decorative smells!"
Ainippe's eyes sparkled with mischief. She suddenly produced the "Goddess of the Hunt" perfume from behind her back. Quickly, she sprinkled a few drops onto Melanippe's deep brown hair. The dark green liquid shimmered like dew.
For the rest of the afternoon, Melanippe kept unconsciously turning her head to sniff her own hair. She insisted, "I'm just making sure it isn't poisoned!" This drew suppressed laughter from the others.
Dido clutched the sample of "Heart of the Ocean." After a delicate sniff, her eyes flashed with admiration and shrewdness. She turned to Aeneas, her tone a mix of business acumen and friendly banter. "A tiny bottle like this... in the markets of Athens or Tyre, it would fetch ten times its weight in gold! My dear Aeneas, make me your agent. Name your share of the profits!"
Aeneas smiled and nodded. He made a point of presenting several different perfumes as gifts. To his mother Aresya, to Thaleia, to Melanippe, and to Dido. Aresya accepted hers with a proud smile, embracing her son. Thaleia held the bottle reverently to her chest. Melanippe took hers with a stiff but swift motion. Dido bowed her thanks with elegant grace.
In the olive grove, fragrance and laughter wove together. Sunlight filtered through the leaves in dappled patterns. It gilded the afternoon with a warm, unforgettable glow.
The lingering sunset light, like molten gold, washed lazily over the green branches of the olive grove. The gathering was winding down. The air held the last traces of honeyed wine and roasted meat. The sound of lively conversation had softened into comfortable murmurs. The shadows stretched long, weaving patterns of light and dark across the leaf-strewn ground.
Dido approached Aeneas, who stood alone beneath an ancient olive tree. Her opulent, deep auburn hair glowed warmly in the sunset light. Her tone was soft, yet carried a barely perceptible note of reluctance. "Aeneas, I plan to depart tomorrow morning. When I return, my ship's hold will be filled with the grain and bronze ingots you require."
Aeneas turned. His gaze was gentle. "A safe journey, Dido. Remember, no matter how rough the sea, the Dardan lands will always be your most reliable harbor."
A faint, unspoken intimacy and regret lingered in the air between them, something that went beyond mere alliance.
At that moment, the tranquil atmosphere was shattered by the sound of hurried, frantic footsteps. One of Dido's captains, his face pale and brow slick with sweat, rushed breathlessly through the olive grove. He came to a stop before them.
"Princess! Master!" He barely paused to catch his breath, his words choppy from running. "The mouth of the Scamander River... Three warships have appeared! They fly the royal banner! They've formed a line, a solid wall, completely blocking our sea route!"
The softness vanished from Dido's face, replaced by a cold, grim focus. Without a moment's hesitation, she tilted her head back. Placed two fingers to her lips. Let out a sharp, piercing whistle that tore through the grove.
Before the sound had faded, an answering, shrill cry came from high above. The golden eagle, Eye of Zeus, dove from the clouds like a bolt of lightning. It descended with a rush of wind, landing solidly on the leather-clad arm she had already extended.
She stroked the smooth feathers on its back, her voice a low command. "To the north, my friend. Show me what is happening at the river's mouth." The intelligent head of the Eye of Zeus gave a slight nod. It emitted a short, sharp cry. Then it beat its powerful wings, stirring the twilight air, and swiftly became a dark speck racing northward against the sky.
The last remnants of the festive mood in the grove solidified into dread. Everyone held their breath, eyes fixed on the spot where the eagle had vanished. The only sounds were the anxious beating of hearts and the soft, sighing rustle of olive leaves.
The wait was not long, but it was agonizing. Finally, the dark speck reappeared. It carved a specific, meaningful pattern across the sky—its wings beat rapidly in two tight circles, followed by a powerful, decisive dive, its beak pointing unerringly eastward.
Dido watched every movement intently. Her expression grew graver with each interpretation, her blue eyes seeming to freeze over. "The captain is right..." Her voice was low, each word landing heavily on those listening. "The river mouth is indeed blockaded by royal forces. This is no ordinary patrol... Why? Is this aimed at me?"
A deep furrow formed between Aeneas's brows.
His voice was grim. "The situation is unclear. It's too dangerous. Dido, you cannot leave. Not yet. We must first discover the reason behind this."
The image of Helenus's face, twisted with bitter resentment, flashed through his mind. "Helenus just caused trouble. I can't be sure this isn't his vengeful counterstroke."
No sooner had he spoken than Melanippe strode forward. The bronze-skinned Amazon princess's face was uncharacteristically devoid of its usual impetuous anger, replaced by a rare, sober caution. She placed a firm hand on Dido's shoulder. "He's right! Setting sail now would be walking into a trap! We need to stay calm. Observe first!"
The moment the words left her mouth, both Aeneas and Ainippe, standing a short distance away, reacted with identical looks of strange surprise. Their eyes snapped to her. Ainippe blinked her light green eyes. In a murmur just loud enough for those nearby to hear, she whispered with utter disbelief, "My princess... actually advising someone to 'stay calm' and 'observe'? What's next — pigs flying over Troy?"
Melanippe flushed crimson from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. Her brief composure shattered. "Ainippe!" she growled, mortified, like a lioness whose tail had been stepped on. She lunged to tickle the guard who always saw right through her. Ainippe laughed, nimbly dodging. The two battle-hardened warriors instantly tumbled into a playful scuffle in the twilight olive grove. The tense atmosphere was, surprisingly, diluted by this sudden, vibrant burst of playfulness.
Amid this delicate chaos, Thaleia stepped forward. Gently but firmly, she took Dido's hand, which trembled slightly with tension and suppressed anger. "Stay, Dido." Her voice was as soft as the evening breeze. "The young lord needs your wisdom. We all need your strength. Let us... face this together. Observe it together."
The sun was now kissing the horizon. The rising evening wind carried a chill, setting the entire olive grove to a continuous, whispering rustle.
Aeneas climbed alone to the top of the newest watchtower within the estate grounds.
The wind was stronger at the summit. He gazed out at the world sinking into dusk. Troy was just a blurred, distant silhouette; perhaps its walls were already dotted with pinpricks of torchlight. The Scamander River lay like a tarnished silver ribbon, winding silently across the darkening plain.
His fingers unconsciously traced the rough wood of the watchtower's railing. His mind, however, raced, sifting through every possible enemy and motive.
(Who? A spiteful counterstroke from Helenus? Fresh from capture, could he muster such a large-scale move? Or... has that schemer Deiphobus, always lurking in the shadows, finally made his move? Or perhaps...)
His thoughts halted there, landing on a heavy, yet realistic possibility.
(Or... has King Priam finally decided to deal with his 'insufficiently respectful' princeling cousin himself?)
(Blocking only large sea vessels, ignoring the small river traffic... Is this aimed at Dido's fleet, or at all of Dardan's foreign trade?)
His eyes scanned the river. At this hour, there should have been the scattered sails of merchant ships, catching the last light.
(Not a single large ship is moving... This isn't just a provocation. It's a blatant economic blockade!)
A cold conclusion solidified in his mind.
(So, it's Priam, then! Finally showing your hand? Unwilling to use direct force and earn the infamy, you'd rather use this economic noose to slowly strangle the life from the Dardan lands?)
A low, cold laugh escaped him, a whisper only he could hear:
"Come then, esteemed King. Show me your best. Let's see how far you're willing to go. And every single thing you do... I will remember. And carefully consider... how to return the favor."
The modern soul of Allen held no inherent reverence for so-called royal authority. He believed in fair trade and just laws.
By the time he turned and descended the watchtower steps, all emotion was perfectly contained.
The loyal Achates waited in the shadows below, just as he'd expected. His tall figure was as reliable as a mountain.
Aeneas offered his friend-and-steward a smile, one devoid of the earlier coldness. "Achates, our plans need to change. Starting tomorrow, I want you to secretly establish a perfume workshop within the estate grounds."
A flicker of surprise crossed Achates's steadfast face, but he voiced no doubt. "My lord, what are your specific instructions? What materials do we need? Which workers shall I summon?"
"Our first batch of finished products will be provided 'freely' to the esteemed priestesses of my mother's temple," Aeneas explained. "You must understand, the Temple of Aphrodite is the favorite place for all the noble ladies and daughters of Troy to pray... and to privately exchange the latest news."
Though Achates didn't fully grasp this tactic of "earning the ladies' coin," his trust in Aeneas's judgment was absolute. He nodded gravely. "Yes, my lord! I will begin preparations at once."