Slade and his troops left Troy victorious. The Greek camp had left the kingdom in ruins, the bodies of the Trojans lying among the shattered foundations, the stench of ash and blood lingering in the alleys. The fires of war still crackled near the Temple of Apollo, now reduced to rubble. With them, they brought back a few Trojan prisoners — men to do the dirty work, women to satisfy them.

King Slade’s troops had settled on the coast, taking a brief rest on the long journey back to Mycenae. The soldiers’ tents had been pitched, and all were busy with their tasks.

As for the king, he had shut himself inside his own tent, claiming to be praying to one of the Olympian gods — an excuse to avoid being disturbed.

He, too, had claimed his war trophy. Alongside his share of the divided riches, Slade had acquired a concubine. While his army had ended the royal and ruling family of Troy, he had deliberately spared one of the heirs.

After all, it was customary for the king to reserve the finest prize for himself — and in this case, that prize was the descendant of the Trojan king, now without family, people, or even a home.

“Make yourself comfortable, act like you're at home,” Slade said in a detached tone. It was almost a command. “We’re sleeping here tonight.”

Concubine or not, Slade didn’t seem particularly interested in making conversation. This war had cost him dearly.

The hardest part had been sacrificing the voice of his youngest son to appease the wrath of the goddess Athena, only to see his wife leave him, taking the kid with her. He had already lost his first son years earlier, and now he found himself completely alone.

A king with no wife, no heir — his illegitimate daughter not counting as one — and no friends. Because after all, who would want to be close to a man whose only achievements were conquering more and more lands, spreading death and terror in his wake?

Slade had nothing warm about him. His reputation made that clear. He remained a cruel and greedy king. And yet, as he closed the tent behind them, he almost seemed to be trying to act like a decent host.

“We leave tomorrow. You’ll need a good night’s sleep — the journey back is long and exhausting,” he continued, beginning to remove his armor. “You have food and water nearby. If you need more, you can ask.”

He seemed almost generous for someone speaking to a captive taken from his enemy.