Atlas Of Megaras

Morning at camp

I never dreamt well. Most people dream of happy day, but mine are filled with horrors of the battlefield. I see the faces of the people I've killed. My mind never remembers them in my waking hours. But they haunt my dreams. I know they are waiting for me beyond the Styx. And one day soon enough I too would join them.

I woke in the middle of the night, covered in cold sweet. My heart was beating wildly. Everything was kind of a blur. I hated sleeping at night. The darkness brought forth the worst of the battlefield horrors that I couldn't remember even if I wanted to when I was conscious. Sleeping during daytime hours was good. I didn't dream at all. But as Captain, I had no time to waste during daylight hours.

My tent had been set up while I was asleep. A hearth had been built to keep out the cold. The floor was covered with thick linen sheets. The heart fire had had nearly extinguished. Usually someone would just pile on more wood. But no one could enter my tent. Aeneas was allowed, but only if it was important. I needed my privacy while changing clothes, bathing and generally sleeping.

A tray of food was left by the hearth, covered with a cloth. A basin of water was placed beside it with a washcloth. There was a pile of armour and weapons laying in one corner. All of them cleaned of blood. War prize. The armour and weapons of men I had killed. Some kings held on the armour like rabid wolves. I just gave the ones I didn't want to my soldiers or melt and sell them for metal.

The food was good enough. Bread with potato stew. The basin water was warm. I took off my clothes and then the strip of linen I used to bind my chest. I scrubbed at my skin until it was pink all over. Laying back on my bed, wrapped in a sheepskin, my thought began to wander.

The sun was about to rise. I could feel it. A new day in war was full of uncertainties. No one knew what would happen. Would we have a peace treaty? Would we have another fight? Would there be no action for the entire day? Stress was paramount.

The sun rose over the horizon and slowly the camp was coming back to live. People were getting back up with groans. There were banging and clanging of vessels. The creaky sounds of the chariots added to the din. I needed to get up. I got back into some new clothes lying on a chair. Strapping my shoes and a knife to my biceps. I got up. My feet were working. Thank Gods.

I pulled a cloak over my shoulders, fastening it with a gold pin. I stepped outside my tent. Some of my men were around setting up a communal hearth and more tents. Others were counting supplies. Yesterday I hadn't noticed a lot of details. Our camp was the furthest from the city, located opposite to the direction we had arrived from. But it was also closer to the mountains that rose behind the Polis of Cassadia. I could hear the faint sound of the sea beating against the beach. The famous cliffs of Cassadia were on the other side of the camp. Near the place where the Greeks had marooned their ships. They too must be building their camps right now.

The tent for doctors had been set up in the middle. I jogged over to them. I passed the Ophens who were setting up their camps and then the people from the northern islands. There had been space left, to accommodate more allies. The doctor at the infirmary was surprised when I asked him to take off the bandages. He insisted I needed to keep them on for a week. But I told him to take it off. One thing about being Olympian born was that my wounds healed faster than a regular mortal's.

The doctor was dumbfounded to see the nearly healed wound under the bandage. He handed me a salve to ensure that it wouldn't scar much. I needed that. Despite the speed with which my wounds healed, they would still scar a little.

"Good morning, Atlas." Someone suddenly clapped my back. I almost ran out of breath. I turned around to see who it was. I was immediately confronted with the site of a man who was at least five cubits tall. Well above the normal range for men. He was King Alexander of the Northern Islands.