In the manor's conference room, five bronze lamps burned bright.
Stone walls caught the light, warm and steady. A parchment map lay on the oak table. Old and yellowed. Mountains and rivers on it, faint and fading.
Aeneas sat with his three guards around the long table. Thaleia sat near the head. She clutched a cup of warm goat's milk with both hands. Her knuckles were white.
Aeneas's gaze rested on Thaleia's trembling fingers.
That tremor... it's not just about the information. There's a story behind this, isn't there?
He felt this girl, who had just faced her brother's brush with death, needed comfort more than the wounded Sergestus did.
He caught Achates's eye with a subtle look. Achates understood. Softened the lamplight slightly.
Thaleia took a deep breath. Her voice held a suppressed quiver. "Thank you for listening to a stranger's story. My brother Sergestus and I... we were once nobles of Sigeion."
The words landed like a stone in still water. They provoked a visible reaction from the guards.
Euryalus, for once, dropped his joking smirk. Frowned slightly. Nisus and Achates looked surprised. Exchanged a quick glance.
"That was five years ago..." Thaleia's voice grew distant, as if traveling through time. "Before that... we thought our happy life would last forever..."
She gripped the shield-fragment pendant at her neck tightly. Her knuckles were white.
Pain flashed in her eyes. But she pressed on, her voice catching:
"During the Spring Festival at the Temple of Apollo in Sigeion. Before the towering marble columns and sun-bleached pediment, the steps were strewn with bay leaves.
I was only fifteen. Prince Helenus took a liking to me. He announced publicly he would take me as his concubine. Said it was the will of the gods."
The oil lamp flames flickered suddenly. Cast dancing shadows on the wall.
Thaleia's thoughts drifted further back—her father's patient smile teaching her letters. His broad back when he taught her to ride. His worried face watching over her all night when she was ill.
Father... if you were still here... The thought pierced her heart like a blade.
She continued, her voice shaking slightly:
"After Father refused him sternly, Helenus took cruel revenge.
He used divine oracles and royal commands. Sent Father to exterminate Black Sea pirates. Then to capture the Cretan Bull alive... Impossible tasks."
Nisus couldn't suppress a low curse. His deep green eyes flashed with angry gold in the candlelight.
Euryalus gripped the bronze short sword at his waist. His teeth were clenched tight.
"On his third campaign... Father never returned." Thaleia's voice shattered into pieces.
"Mother died of grief soon after. Helenus demanded my hand again. My brother and I fled to Mount Ida that very night..."
Here, Thaleia trembled but straightened her spine. Her eyes, though filled with tears, held an unyielding light.
Aeneas watched her quietly. He saw the hardship of a noble girl forced to grow up too fast.
If this could happen to a noble family like Thaleia's, what hope did commoners have?
The walls of Troy weren't built on stone and mortar, but on bones!
Nisus's gaze briefly met Euryalus's. The Trojan royal house... heh... always the same... So like what happened to our mother...
Thaleia drew a sharp breath. Forced herself to go on.
"There are twenty-five of them. Armed with fine bronze weapons. Their armor bears the royal crest of Troy.
My brother risked a scouting mission. Found their armory is unusually well-stocked. Far beyond common bandits."
She described the Red Bean Forest bandit camp in detail:
Three crude huts arranged in a triangle. A central clearing held plundered goods. A simple palisade hung with warning bones.
Behind the largest hut, a hidden armory. Through the door crack, rows of bronze spearheads were visible.
Aeneas frowned deeply in thought. So... the 'wolf in sheep's clothing'... a royal force disguised as bandits? Was that Cassandra's prophecy?
He recalled the cryptic princess's obscure warnings.
"We discovered they were meeting secretly with an envoy from Helenus," Thaleia's composure finally broke. "But we got too close... My brother, he protected me..."
Aeneas's inner rage burned. Using royal power to persecute the innocent, hiding behind bandits... Helenus, you utter monster!
Tears finally streamed down Thaleia's cheeks. They glittered like pearls in the lamplight.
But she wiped them away quickly with her sleeve. The important part wasn't finished... She couldn't let grief stop the young lord from understanding the intelligence.
Her information shifted to the refuge upstream on the Scamander—
Using the rushing river as a natural barrier, in the northern part of Red Bean Forest, Sergestus and his sister had built a sanctuary for mountain folk:
A hidden village on the mountainside. Dozens of simple huts built into the slope. A central square with a fire that represented hope.
Suddenly, Thaleia slid from her seat. Fell to her knees. Her voice choked with sobs. "Please, save those mountain folk! They take protection money, yes, but never too much. They don't harm the innocent."
She looked directly at Aeneas. Her eyes held a mix of desperate plea and fragile hope.
"Most of the two hundred are women and children... They're skilled hunters and woodcutters...
If we don't act soon…those older folk back home… they could die. Or worse… become real bandits…"
"My lord... I beg you, save them..."
He stood immediately. Moved around the long table. Reached down. His movements were firm yet gentle as he helped the kneeling Thaleia to her feet.
"On your feet," Aeneas's tone was firm, yet kind. "Here in Dardan, no one needs to beg on their knees just to survive."
Euryalus couldn't resist a soft, appreciative whistle.
The oil lamps still flickered. But the room's atmosphere had shifted completely.
Aeneas stood abruptly. He strode to the oak table where the parchment map lay spread. His long finger landed precisely on the Red Bean Forest.
"The five of us will scout tomorrow," his voice was clear and decisive. His gaze swept over his companions.
"Achates, terrain. I need every path, every escape route. Nisus, track the bandits' patterns. Find the gaps in their patrols."
Here, Aeneas paused. His eyes turned to the ever-smiling Euryalus, who immediately straightened up.
"Your job is Thaleia's safety," Aeneas stated gravely.
Thaleia shook her head fiercely. Her dark hair swung like a waterfall.
"I'm not some delicate lady who needs coddling," her gaze was resolute. "I can fight. I know every inch of that forest. I don't need a special guard."
Euryalus, however, completely ignored the girl's protest.
For once, he set aside his usual irreverence. With solemn care, he gave Aeneas a warrior's salute—right hand pressed over the beast-tooth charm on his chest.
"You have my word!" Euryalus's voice was low and solid. His usually mischievous eyes were utterly serious. "By the Huntress Goddess, no one will touch her while I draw breath."
Nisus and Achates exchanged a knowing look. They were already mentally sorting gear and planning the route.
Aeneas braced his hands on the oak table. Candlelight danced in his dark-gold curls. "We move out before first light. While the morning mist still lies."
"Remember. This is reconnaissance. Not a head-on fight. I need information, not heroics."
Thaleia didn't argue further. But her pressed lips and straight spine declared she would be no one's burden.
She stared at Aeneas's profile. The candlelight played over his sharply defined features. Her look was complex. As if some new resolve was forming within her.