Behold the fruits of a twisted mind's labours.

This will probably be a slighty slower story than the Saga, as I don't want the side project to slow down my main story too much. For public knowledge I'll be using Alexander Pope's translation of the Iliad, partly because of personal preference and partly because it's one (and by far the better) of the two translations that I own.

As always, suggestions are welcome.

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Reimu's wrath, to Greece the direful spring
Of woes unnumber'd, heavenly goddess, sing!
That wrath which hurl'd to Eiki's gloomy reign
The souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain;

Whose limbs unburied on the naked shore,
Pigtailed cats 'neath the ground bore.
Since great Reimu and Scarlet strove,
Such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of Kanako!

Declare, O Muse! in what ill-fated hour
Sprung the fierce strife, from what offended power
Luna's daughter a dire contagion spread,
And heap'd the camp with mountains of the dead;
The queen of men her reverent priest defied,
And for the queen's offence the people died.

For Youki sought with costly gifts to gain
His captive daughter from the victor's chain.
Suppliant the venerable father stands;
Eirin's awful ensigns grace his hands
By these he begs; and lowly bending down,
Extends the sceptre and the laurel crown
He sued to all, but chief implored for grace
The sister-queens, of Scarlet's royal race

"Ye kings and warriors! may your vows be crown'd,
And Youkai Mountain's proud walls lie level with the ground.
May Kanako restore you when your toils are o'er
Safe to the pleasures of your native shore.
But, oh! relieve a wretched parent's pain,
And give Youmu to these arms again;
If mercy fail, yet let my presents move,
And dread avenging Eirin, daughter of Moon."

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From my vantage I gaze down upon true Pandemonium. The voices of the assembled Achaeans roar all around me, kings and commoners alike shouting their opinion. The heroes stand assembled, foremost Noble Reimu, greatest warrior among the heroes of Greece, shouting her assent. She is angry, this warrior without peer, her short temper lending force to her voice. At her side waits the inseparable companion, green-haired Mima. It would be nice if she reined in Reimu a bit, all this noise is really taxing my ears. The gods know that good hearing sometimes is a heavy burden.

The next figure is unmistakable as well. With god-forged armour glittering in the sun, there stands the second of the warriors of Hellas, Argive Ran whose spear and godsend favour have created widows uncounted among the women of Ilion. Her annoyed expression matches my own feelings, as befits one of the few voices of wisdom in this insane venture. Her tails flail and whip the ground as she muscles her way through the crowd, roaring like the rest of the assembled throng.

Surprising. Beside the Argive walks venerable Patchouli, lady of Pylos, whose wisdom is second only to her garrulous manners. The frail queen struggles to kep pace with the long-limbed Ran, somehow managing to keep up despite her weak physical strength.

The sight of great Suika of Telamon, as usual drunk before noon, never fails to amuse. The diminutive warrior stumbles around, happily lending her voice to the uproar while taking great swigs from her ever-present jug of wine. Not without a certain amusement I see her trip over something and fall flat to the ground. The Telamonian giant's companion, Locrian Yuugi, plucks up the little heroine, and amidst riotous laughter the pair sets off for new drunken escapades. How I have survived nine long years with comrades like this is another thing that only Omnipotent Kanako knows.

And finally my eyes behold sullen Flandre of Sparta, clutching her battle-rod like a petulent child. And irony of ironies, for is not the cause of this long war nothing more than a single woman, a toy that the little red-eyed killer refuses to let go of? A dangerous girl though, perhaps more dangerous than anyone else of the assembled armies of Hellas, for the blonde girl fights for her own cause, something that not even her sister truly can claim.

But among this diverse cast only two actors have taken the center stage this day. Venerable Youki and our lady commander, the priest's neck bowed in supplication as he grovels before imperious Remilia Scarlet, High Queen of Achaea, warlord and commander of ten thousand warriors. The priest begs with honeyed words, the queen stares with bloodred eyes. Finally the white-haired cleric drops to his knees in supplication, his voice pained and desperate as he pleads a final time for his daughter.

"Please, O Queen of Danaans. Have you no mercy for an old man? I'll glady give you anything you desire, both wealth and the blessings of Delphinian Eirin. Just return my Youmu, this is all I ask."

My ears twitch with irritation as I see the rage burning in Remilia's eyes, the foolish, wounded pride that has kept us all here for nine long years. Nine years of meaningless death, hardship and little prospect of ultimate victory. And worst of all, the plunder has been pathetic- in fact so worthless that the high queen herself now stubbornly refuses to part with some pretty girl that she captured. By Olympian Kanako! Why risk the wrath of the archer goddess just for that? Aren't there countless girls for the taking if we ever manage to tear down the walls of that damned mountain? I look up at the impressive ramparts and imagine how the defenders must laugh at us from up there.

I turn back to the scene before me and note that Remilia's knuckles have somehow become even paler than usual as the high queen grips her great spear tight. All around her the voices of Achaean warriors shout their support for the white-haired priest. Foolish, for the pride of Scarlet's daughter must burn fierce right now. What better way to fan the flames than to urge her to give up the very thing that she desires?

Finally cunning Ran and Gerenian Patchouli reach the queen's side and appear to start a heated argument as soon as they open their mouths. I sharpen my ears, but even then I can barely hear what they are saying over the din of the throng. At least nothing that Remilia wanted to hear, judging from her furious reaction. Once again it seems to be my job to shepherd this group of incompetents before they start killing each other. But it probably wouldn't work to simply jump over there and talk to Ran and Remilia, would it? Perhaps I should try something sneaky instead?


[ ] No, I should get over there and talk some sense into Remilia. This siege isn't going to breach the walls of Troy all by itself, now is it?

[ ] Perhaps the priest's daughter could disappear from Remilia's tent without a trace? And perhaps the priest could then be miraculously reunited with his child? And perhaps a certain someone is cunning and sneaky enough to pull this off?

[ ] I should get away from here. My ears hurt already, and little good will probably come out of this anyway.

[ ] I think I'll just stay back and watch. Might see something funny