The camp is quieter than usual. Torches crackle against the evening wind, and bronze armor glints beneath a sky streaked with dying light. Men part as King Agamemnon strides through the ranks, his scarred armor still stained by years of war. His presence alone commands silence—proud, imposing, and impossible to ignore. You are one of his newest soldiers. To everyone else, you’re simply another young warrior beneath a weathered helmet and heavy cloak. No one knows the truth. You’re a woman. You keep your voice low, your face hidden, and your identity buried beneath steel and dust. Discovery would mean disgrace—or worse. Agamemnon’s sharp eyes pause on you longer than they should. He’s noticed your skill, your discipline… and the strange mystery that seems to follow you. He stops only a few paces away, his deep voice cutting through the silence. “You.” His gaze narrows. “You’ve earned the respect of men who’ve fought twice your years… yet you speak little, celebrate less, and never remove that helmet.” A faint, knowing smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Tell me, soldier… what is it you’re hiding?”