Chapter 229 — The First Move

Chapter 229: Chapter 229 — The First Move

The war room was quiet.

The map of Troy covered the table. Small stones marked the walls, the harbour, the lower town, and the positions held by the Greeks.

Paris stood beside the table with a folded sheet of paper in his hand.

"I found this in Mother’s room."

He placed it between the stones and unfolded it.

Several names had been written across the page.

Merchants. Harbour officials. A councillor. Two men who worked in the lower town.

Lysander read the list without touching it.

"She was investigating them."

Paris nodded.

"She was looking for the spy."

Hector came closer. His face was hard, but the exhaustion beneath it showed in the way he stood.

"If we find the spy," Paris said, "we may find the man who helped the murderer enter Troy."

"And the man who killed her," Hector said.

Paris’s fingers closed around the edge of the paper.

"I will begin with the harbour."

"No one can know you have this list," Lysander said. "If the spy learns that we are searching, the names will disappear before you reach them."

Paris folded the paper.

"I will be careful."

The door opened.

A guard stepped into the room.

"My lords. Miros has arrived. Dexion is with him."

Lysander looked toward the door.

"Let them in."

The guard moved aside.

Miros entered first.

Dust covered his clothes. His face was thinner than it had been before he went below, and his eyes carried the tiredness of a man who had spent too long without seeing the sky.

Dexion followed him with a spear in one hand and a leather bundle tied across his back.

Miros stopped before Hector.

"I am sorry about the queen."

Hector gave a slow nod.

"Thank you."

Miros looked at Paris, then at Lysander.

"I know this is not the right time. But I found something below that cannot wait."

Lysander gestured toward the table.

"I have already told Hector and Paris everything I know. Speak freely."

Miros placed his hands on the map.

"There is an old weapons store."

No one spoke for a moment.

Paris looked at him.

"A weapons store?"

"Below the city."

Lysander’s eyes narrowed, but he did not ask him to explain the route.

"Where?"

"Near one of the sealed sections. Dexion found the outer door."

Dexion untied the leather bundle and placed a small clay fragment on the table. A faded mark had been carved into it: a spear crossed with a narrow blade.

"The door is old," Miros continued. "Older than the passages we have used. It has not been opened recently."

"Did you enter?" Hector asked.

"No."

"Why not?"

Miros looked at the mark on the clay.

"Because I did not know what opening it would trigger."

That was all he said.

He did not suggest opening it. He did not suggest using the weapons. He did not tell them how many weapons might be inside.

Lysander studied the fragment.

"Can you find it again?"

"Yes."

"Then keep its location between us."

Miros nodded.

Hector looked toward the map.

"What else?"

Miros was silent for a moment.

"The route is still usable."

Lysander already knew what he meant.

"How many can move through it at once?"

"Not enough for a crowd."

"Then we do not move a crowd."

Hector turned from the table.

"What are you thinking?"

Lysander looked at the streets beyond the window. The city was still mourning. People moved slowly through the courtyards and alleys. The funeral preparations had already begun.

"We use the funeral."

Paris understood.

"The women and children."

"Under sixteen," Lysander said. "And the wounded who cannot defend themselves."

Hector’s jaw tightened.

"If we announce an evacuation, the whole city will panic."

"We will not call it an evacuation."

Lysander moved one of the stones toward the inner city.

"We announce that the women and children are being relocated to a protected district inside Troy. The official reason is the breach in the outer wall. If the Greeks attack again, the inner district will be safer than the lower town."

Paris looked at the list in his hand.

"And the real destination?"

"The route below."

No one asked him to explain it.

They had all seen enough of the underground passages to understand the danger and the value of keeping them hidden.

Miros shook his head.

"I should remain here."

Hector looked at him.

"No."

Miros turned toward him.

"I can fight."

"So can every man on the wall," Hector said. "You are the only man who can lead those people through the route."

"I returned to help defend Troy."

"And you will."

Hector stepped closer to the table.

"If the wall falls, the women and children will have nowhere to go. You will take them where the Greeks cannot reach them."

Miros glanced at Lysander.

"You have already decided."

"Yes."

"And Dexion?"

"He stays with me."

Dexion’s expression did not change.

Miros looked at him.

"You agree with this?"

Dexion answered without hesitation.

"If the city falls, someone must remain here to protect the entrances."

Miros’s mouth tightened.

Lysander continued.

"Antiphus will go with you. He will handle the children, the sick, and the wounded."

Miros nodded slowly.

"Daidalos as well," Lysander said. "He can prepare the lamps, carts, and whatever the first group needs."

"And who keeps the lists?" Paris asked.

Lysander looked at him.

"Ampelos."

Paris nodded.

"He can divide them into groups without making the movement obvious."

Miros looked down at the map.

"How many?"

"We count them tonight," Lysander said. "The first group moves during the funeral preparations."

"And the others?"

"This is the first group," Hector said. "The rest will be decided after we know the route remains secure."

Miros’s eyes returned to the clay fragment.

"And the weapons store?"

Lysander folded the fragment into a piece of cloth and handed it to him.

"You will tell no one else about it."

Miros took it.

"I understand."

"You will not open it."

Miros looked at him.

"I did not intend to."

"Good."

The decision was made.

Miros would lead the first group.

Antiphus and Daidalos would go with him. Ampelos would organize the names and supplies. Dexion would remain with Lysander inside Troy and guard the entrances.

For a moment, the room held only the sound of the bells.

Paris looked toward the door.

"Mother would have chosen this."

Hector’s eyes lowered.

"She would have chosen to protect everyone before herself."

"She did," Paris said.

No one answered.

Lysander reached for the map.

"The announcement must be made before the funeral procession begins. The families will already be moving through the inner streets. We use that movement."

"And if the spy notices?" Paris asked.

"Then he learns only what everyone else learns," Lysander said. "That the city is protecting its children."

Paris folded the list again.

"I will investigate the names while the city prepares."

"Quietly," Lysander said.

"Quietly."

Hector looked at the map.

"One plan is not enough."

Paris raised his eyes.

"The Greeks have stopped their attacks for three days. They are not giving us mercy. They are watching us."

"They are reorganizing," Lysander said.

"They are waiting," Hector replied. "And while they wait, we are supposed to mourn behind our walls."

"No one is saying we should do nothing," Paris said.

Lysander looked toward the black stones marking the Greek positions.

"A direct attack would be a mistake. Their camp is too large, and the ground between us is exposed."

"We do not need to attack the whole army," Paris said.

Hector moved one of the stones away from the wall.

"Their confidence is the weakness."

Lysander studied him.

"What does that mean?"

"They believe we can only fight from the walls. They believe every road out of Troy is known to them. They believe the dead have made us slower."

"The dead have made us slower," Lysander said.

"They have also made us angry."

Hector’s gaze moved toward the harbour.

Paris stepped closer to the table.

"Do you have a target?"

Hector did not answer immediately.

He moved several stones across the map. One marked the Greek platforms. Another marked the outer camp. A third marked the supply lines running along the coast.

Lysander watched his hand.

"You are not thinking about the wall."

"No."

"The harbour?"

"Part of it."

Paris looked at him.

"What are you planning?"

Hector rested his palm on the map.

"For weeks, we have allowed Agamemnon to decide where the war happens."

His voice was quiet.

"On the walls. At the gates. In the open ground."

He lifted his hand and moved the stone representing the Greek camp.

"That ends tonight."

Lysander’s expression hardened.

"We are moving the first group tomorrow."

"I know."

"And you want a counterattack before the evacuation begins."

"I want the Greeks to spend the night looking in the wrong direction."

Paris stared at the map.

"Where will we strike?"

Hector looked at him.

"Not where they expect."

"That is not an answer."

"It is the only answer you need tonight."

Lysander studied his brother’s face.

"What are you planning, Hector?"

Hector looked toward the harbour, where the Greek fires burned beyond the walls.

"We are not going to attack their army."

He moved one final stone.

"We are going to make them defend something they thought was untouchable."

The bells continued to ring for Hecuba.

Outside, Troy mourned.

Inside the war room, Hector began preparing the first move.