The dense woods of the Scamander River valley on Mount Ida were shrouded in morning mist. The air smelled of damp earth and pine. The whole forest seemed to be waking slowly. Stretching its branches.
Morning fog still drifted. A gauzy veil among the trees. It blurred distant shapes into soft outlines.
A faint rustling came from the woods. A skilled hunter would know. This wasn't the sound of beasts or ordinary travelers. It was a small team of fighters moving fast.
A hunter's steps aren't so uniform. So dense. The speed was too great. Definitely light, agile warriors.
Five figures moved like ghosts through the trees.
Their feet fell on thick leaf litter and ferns. Only a soft, rhythmic rustle. Like a breeze through the canopy.
The team had clear roles. Aeneas was the razor tip. His tall, powerful frame moved with surprising agility through the rough terrain.
Nisus watched the left flank. His sharp, deep-green eyes scanned every shadow like a hawk's. Euryalus covered the right. He occasionally left subtle marks on tree trunks with his shortsword.
Achates brought up the rear. His steady steps expertly obscured the team's trail.
Thaleia led the way. Her steps were light as a forest doe.
Aeneas felt the weight of his bronze armor. The steady surge of strength in his limbs. He was grateful.
"Thank the gods this body's instincts are intact. The muscle memory is insane."
"With my old forty-five-year-old writer's physique, I'd be wheezing like a dying dog in this heavy armor on this terrain. Tongue out on the ground."
He was the only heavy infantryman in the group. Yet he kept pace with Nisus and Euryalus, who were born hunters. When low branches blocked the way, he used his greater strength to sweep them aside. Creating clear passage for those behind.
The motion was fluid. Natural. It earned an approving glance from Euryalus.
Notably, three of the five warriors were archers—
Nisus, Euryalus, and Thaleia all carried their longbows in hand. Quivers positioned for quick access. Ready for any threat.
Thaleia's steps were light as a doe's. Her dark hair was tied back. A few damp strands clung to her temples and sun-kissed cheeks.
She knelt to examine the ground. Listened intently to distant sounds. Her focus made her seem part of the forest itself.
Suddenly, she raised a hand. Halted the group. Pointed to a steep cliff face on the left. She spoke softly to the others.
"That cliff is treacherous. It has natural caves and a platform with a clear view. A favorite ambush spot for bandits."
Then she pointed to the thick brush on the right. "That scrub is too dense. Hard to retreat quickly if ambushed. We should go around."
Aeneas mentally noted the tactical points. Watched Thaleia's focused, athletic form ahead. His thoughts stirred uncomfortably.
"Damn it! I'm here to scout, maybe die! Not star in a romance!"
"But Thaleia's lines... that powerful grace... She's like a top-tier supermodel... Why do last night's dream images keep popping up...?"
After refusing her offer and escorting her back to her room like a gentleman, he'd slept poorly. Forty-five years single in his past life. Now he's a young, virile man. Staying rational when faced with a beautiful naked woman was hard enough!
Now, watching her slender back as she led the way... his mind kept conjuring... inappropriate... distracting thoughts...
To refocus, Aeneas asked quietly, "How does this river affect our movement?"
Thaleia explained, "The Scamander is all rushing mountain streams here. No boats can navigate it. No bridges either, as this area is largely untouched. So the river acts as a natural border."
Her voice held a trace of resignation. "The 'bandits' north of the river are mostly mountain folk just trying to survive. We only ask for a small 'toll' from travelers. Sometimes we trade mountain goods with merchants. We don't kill people."
"But the group south of the river appeared about two years ago. They're brutal. They rob and murder. My brother and I clashed with them a few times. But our weapons were too crude. In the end, we had to retreat with our people and avoid them."
Aeneas seized the key point. "So these true villains south of the river... they might not be ordinary bandits? They have backing? Supplies?"
When Aeneas spoke, Thaleia's cheeks flushed almost imperceptibly. She gave a slight nod. Her eyes met his for just a moment before darting away. The atmosphere grew subtly awkward.
Yet this awkwardness felt... rather nice.
Euryalus, watching from the side, saw it all. A teasing grin touched his lips. He nudged Nisus with his elbow. Whispered, "Seems our leader is good at more than just rescuing people. He's good at making cheeks flush, too."
Nisus stifled a laugh. Shook his head, signaling Euryalus to focus.
Achates, at the rear, kept a straight face. But his deep brown eyes were full of amusement.
The team moved on through the dense woods. The morning mist gradually thinned. Dappled sunlight fell through the canopy. It danced on their bodies.
Thaleia refocused on guiding them. But when she glanced back, her gaze lingered on Aeneas for a heartbeat too long.
And Aeneas, though he tried to concentrate on the scouting mission, had to admit—
In these mysterious forests of Mount Ida, some dangers came from bandits' blades. Others came from the unconscious tenderness of a twenty-year-old girl.
The forest quiet was suddenly broken by an exaggerated stumble.
Euryalus deliberately caught his foot on a protruding root. He looked up at the sky with dramatic flair. Muttered in a tone fit for reciting epic poetry:
"Oh, merciful Aphrodite! Since I serve your beloved son so faithfully... could you perhaps arrange for a beautiful, brave maiden for your devoted, yet lonely, worshipper?"
His voice, full of obvious mischief, echoed in the silent woods. His eyes, always gleaming with troublemaking light, slid meaningfully toward the tall figure ahead.
Up front, Thaleia genuinely stumbled at his words. Nearly fell. The tips of her ears turned a deep, ripe crimson. She buried her head lower. Didn't dare look back. Just stared stiffly at the ground, as if searching for a crack in the leaf patterns to disappear into.
"Young master Aeneas's luck with women is truly enviable," Euryalus thought smugly.
"With a prayer like that, maybe the goddess will look favorably on me too?" He could almost picture Aeneas's embarrassed expression right now.
Nisus quickly closed in on his chaos-loving companion. Jabbed an elbow hard into his ribs. Hissed a reprimand:
"You idiot! Shut up! We're on a mission!"
"The young master's future wife will likely be Princess Creusa," Achates thought, a faint, almost paternal smile of approval in his eyes.
"But Miss Thaleia has both beauty and courage. A resilient spirit. It would be a fine thing if she became his concubine."
Aeneas felt his eye twitch. His comrades were giving him that look—the one that screamed, "We know exactly what happened." He was screaming inside.
"Great. I could dive into the Scamander and still not wash this off."
"I swear, I didn't sleep with Thaleia last night! And you all think I did, don't you? This is a setup!"
He felt his own cheeks grow warm. Could only clear his throat with forced seriousness. Tried to reclaim some of his authority as leader.
Just as the awkward-but-not-unpleasant tension threatened to settle in, the trees began to thin. To the team's left front, a calm lake emerged—its water a deep, jewel-like green. A giant gem set in the forest.
The tree varieties around the lake changed noticeably. They were mostly thick-trunked, dark-barked trees with dense foliage. Very different from the surrounding pines and oaks.
Thaleia stopped, visibly relieved. She seized the chance to change the subject. Signaled for alertness. Spoke in a low voice, a trace of lingering shyness still there.
"From this lake onward, we're in the Red Bean Forest. Pay attention to these trees. They bear a kind of red berry." She pointed to a nearby tree laden with bright red fruit.
"The red flesh itself isn't poisonous. You can eat a little if you're starving," her tone shifted back to a guide's professionalism,
"But the pit inside is highly toxic. Mountain folk use it to coat arrowheads. Make poison arrows. So... best not to try the berries."
Nisus and Euryalus immediately showed great interest. The two archers moved closer almost simultaneously. Studied the tree's shape and branches intently. Discussed in low voices how to use this natural poison against tough foes.
Nisus even carefully picked a berry. Squeezed it open with his fingers. Examined the lethal pit inside.
Aeneas followed Thaleia's pointing finger. When he clearly saw the trees' features—
The dark brown bark. The dense grain. The distinctive shape—
His eyes widened. An internal storm erupted.
"My god! Gods! This... this is a fucking yew tree?! The prime material for English longbows!"
"Holy shit! Jackpot! A real jackpot! Is this my belated transmigrator's gift?!" His heart hammered in his chest. As if trying to escape.
He forced down the elation. Tried to keep his voice level. Turned to his most reliable steward for confirmation. "Achates, you're sure our territory includes this area?" His voice was slightly hoarse with excitement.
Achates nodded firmly. "Of course! The Dardan River Valley domain is vast. From here, another fifty kilometers inland... it's all still your land, young master."
Aeneas was stunned. Could barely believe his ears. "The Trojan royal family was that generous? Gave our family this much land?"
Achates gave a cold laugh. "Young master, you think too highly of the royals!"
"The Trojan court seems generous. The land they gave is expansive. But it's all this kind of raw, hard-to-develop mountain forest and river valley they themselves scorn."
"The truly fertile, flat plains with dense populations? The King and his cronies keep those for themselves."
Aeneas wasn't bothered. His eyes held an excitement Achates had never seen.
"Mountainous terrain is treacherous. Easy to defend, hard to attack. Not necessarily a bad thing. In the future, this might be our greatest advantage."
He was already sketching plans in his mind. "Yew longbows... This is a game-changing weapon!"
"The range and penetration would crush any existing bow! And the best part? The English longbow is a straight self bow—made from a single piece of wood, no laminates, no recurves, no heat-forming. Our current tech can handle that easily!"
He took a deep breath. The air held the lake's dampness, the faint scent of yew, and the invigorating smell of something called 'possibility.'
This primeval forest, deemed worthless in the eyes of the Trojan royalty, already shimmered in his vision with a value far greater than gold.