Chapter 1: A Diplomatic Warning
"Harry! Harry!" A squeaky voice was heard in the prince of Troy's bed chamber.
"Ugh!" Harry complained with a roll of his eyes. He did not like anyone to interrupt his exercise routine.
Harry was the son of the fallen James Hector, prince of Troy and heir to the Trojan throne. Judging by the reactions he saw every day, he could melt the hearts of women by merely walking by, although he was not sure if it was by his looks or the fact that he was the one who was to inherit the Trojan throne.
Maybe that was why he preferred to stay inside the castle as much as possible, or rather, in his room. There, he contented himself with practicing the fighting techniques that his father had taught him before his death.
"Damn Spartans. Stupid Paris," he cursed under his breath. Frankly, his late uncle Paris had been responsible for his father's death. What was he thinking running after a married damsel, one that was sure to bring the kingdom of Troy to its doom? All for love…or was it that he wanted to lay with the daughter of Zeus? That was just ludicrous. No dame was worth his brother's life.
"Your highness!" A maid opened the door to his chamber. She could have been beautiful, if he was not accustomed to her being a royal pain in the butt.
He sighed in complaint, finishing his push-ups a few numbers early and wiping his sweat with a linen cloth.
"What do you want?" he asked her, his voice cold.
"Oh, good morning sire," the maid giggled.
"Hello. Well?"
"What…" The maid lowered her head, her cheeks turning a reddish color.
Harry sighed once more, although this time it was in annoyance as he noticed that he was still half dressed and the maid's eyes were firmly attached to his sweaty chest.
He wiped the sweat away and put on the white shirt that was supposed to go under the armor that had once belonged to his father.
"You were saying?" Harry tried to get it out of her for the third time without success. All he could get out of her were stammers and giggles.
"Are you done there?" A brown-haired man entered Harry's room, much to his relief.
"Your highness." The maid bowed to the visitor. Oliver was the son of Odysseus and Penelope, king and queen of Ithaca. Dressed in a black tunic covered with a mauve cloak, he approached the maid.
"It is all right. I will look after it from here," he assured her.
Seeing that she did not retreat her eyesight from Harry, Oliver took her by her arm and closed the door in her face, before turning to his friend.
"So, how has your morning been?" He smiled while Harry gave him a fierce look.
"It was fine until a moment ago," he replied.
It was not that he was not glad to see Oliver, for he was one of his best friends. But he knew that from Ithaca to Troy stood three days of unpleasant battles with sea winds and that Oliver could not afford the luxury of paying merely friendly visits. Therefore, his visits always had some sort of diplomatic attachment to it.
"Well, I am happy to ruin it for you," Oliver joked.
"Why have you come?" Harry asked him.
"What? Can I not visit one of my best friends?" Oliver grinned, but Harry refused to rise to the bait.
"And ruin your best ship? I doubt it."
"It was not my ship, my father's."
"Regardless, you do not spend three days battling Aeolous for a pleasurable visit," Harry stated, referring to the Greek god of wind.
. "Fine. Father had a talk with Menelaus a couple of days ago."
"How grand," Harry responded with evident sarcasm. Suffice to say that the king of Sparta was not in his list of favorite people.
"Apparently, Menelaus does not think Cassandra is capable of ruling Troy."
"Nor do I," Harry snapped. He was quite sick of his aunt's "visions".
"Really? You do know what that means, do you not, Harry?" Oliver crossed his arms.
"It is not going to happen."
"Why not?"
"Because I am not interested in the throne, for the thousandth time."
"It is either you or a Spartan."
"Bring forth the Spartans then."
"Knowing Menelaus, he is going to send her all right."
"Who?"
"His daughter."
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