With all of Greece’s most elite warriors mustered or inbound, Athena convened her Achaeans to discuss her favorite topic – strategy. Agamemnon, Menelaus, Odysseus, Ajax, Teucer, Diomedes, Achilles, and Patroclus were all in attendance, as were Nestor and Chalcas.
Nestor was an old veteran who’d been among the youngest men to survive the Argo’s legendary escapades. He'd been a close friend to Odysseus's father, who'd also been an Argonaut, and had visited their home in Ithaca many times. He had a story for every situation – everything life threw at him reminded him of something life had already thrown at him. Though he could easily be described as tough and grizzled, insightful and intelligent would have been equally apt. While a proficient fighter in his day, Nestor had never favored battlefields with massive armies clashing. He preferred more subtle forms of warfare, and had become steeply educated in the politics, customs, and general going-ons of every state that could be reached by a Greek ship. He knew almost everything there was to know, and for those things he didn’t know, he knew how to find someone who did. Chalcas, for example, had been a priest in Troa, and through circumstances ambiguously under his control, he had ended up banished from his home. Nestor had found the bitter man and flipped him. Like any good man of the cloth, Chalcas knew everything worth knowing about his people.
“What plans have you made?” Athena asked her assembled think tank..
“Well,” Menelaus said, “One of the oracles declared that the first among us to leap onto Trojan shores would be the first among us to die, but one of our cabin boys, Protesilaus volunteered to be the one. Very noble, but I got to thinking – he’s a young, healthy boy, with many good years ahead of him, so I figure so long as we keep him out of combat and away from danger, the rest of us will effectively be immortal.”
Athena looked at Menelaus with an expression of pained disappointment.
“What? It’s logical – if you know who’s going to die first, he’s the only man you need to expend any effort to keep alive.”
"It does make sense to me," Ajax nodded.
Athena turned to the others, “Are there any plans that don’t involve flights of fantasy?”
“Well, I know world geography isn’t the strong suit of everyone in this room, so let’s have a little study session,” Odysseus spread out one of the maps Athena had provided and began pointing out key aspects of the eastern Aegean's geography, “Troa’s prosperity stems largely from its northwest coast, which constitutes the eastern bank of the Dardanelles Strait. The Dardenelles Strait connects the Aegean Sea to the Sea of Marmara, and the Bosporous Strait connects the Sea of Marmara to the Black Sea.”
“Ergo,” Agamemnon said, “Most of the trade between the eastern and western worlds must travel through Troy.”
“No,” Odysseus corrected him, “Not through Troy, through Troa. Troy itself is within sight of the Dardanelles but it still sits too far inland to control the strait. Technically, Dardanus, a coastal city northwest of Troy, is the bottleneck for all Black Sea trade.”
“Then why aren’t the Dardanians the wealthiest people in the Mediterranean?” Patroclus asked.
“Dardania has been part of Troa for so long I doubt the thought of economic independence has occurred to them in a long time,” Nestor explained.
“Can we change that?” Agamemnon asked, “Liberate them and sway them to our side?”
“Doubtful,” Chalcas said, “My people treat the Dardanians well enough, and so many people move between the two cities – young men in Dardanus are likely to have parents or grandparents in Troy, and old men in Dardanus likely have children and grandchildren there. Dardania is not encircled by Troy’s walls, but in all other respects, it is really just an extension of Troy.”
“Is it fortified?” Agamemnon asked as he studied the map.
“Not like Troy,” Chalcas said, “It has walls, yes, but Troy’s walls are far larger, and they were created by Poseidon and Apollo, whereas the walls around Dardanus were fashioned by purely mortal minds and hands.”
“It’s a softer target than Troy,” Odysseus said, “And strategically more valuable. Rather than fight Troy head on, we could sail up the strait to Dardanus, seize the city, and then we’re practically free to do whatever we want. We can use it as a secure port to circulate troops and materials between our home and the Trojan front, or we could use it as a staging ground to raid Troa’s allies in western Asia, maybe persuade them to put diplomatic pressure on Troy to surrender Helen.”
“And what plans have you made for the lands South of Troy?” Athena asked.
“Well, south of Troy is Mt. Ida, which is part of a ridgeline that runs right up to Troa’s southern shore. East of that is a large bay, here, shielded by Lesbos. The bay shelters the port city of Adramytium, which serves Thebe and Lyrnessus, two city states allied with Troa. Adramytium might be a soft target for a raid, but I wouldn’t want the challenge of coordinating an attack on Thebe and Lyrnessus while also fighting for Dardanus.”
“So, are we planning to do nothing about Troy then?” Achilles asked.
“If negotiations fail?” Odysseus asked, “We’ll have to leave some men within striking distance,” Odysseus tapped on the western coast of Troa, “Here, this island south of the strait, Tenedos? We can take that island and use it as a forward base camp, and maintain a smaller foothold on the shores between Tenedos and the Dardanelles.”
“How many men?” Agamemnon asked, “It sounds like we’re dividing ourselves thinly.”
“I’d want at least two fifths of our force to assault Dardanus,” Odysseus said, “with half of that remaining as an occupation force afterwards. Another fifth can head south to take control of Colonae and Pedasus, and Ajax can build his defense of our basecamp around the last fifth.”
“Last fifth?” Patroclus asked, “That was only four fifths?”
“Never create plans which depend on one hundred percent of your army,” Athena said.
“Ah, we’ll be fine,” Menelaus said, “So long as we keep Protesilaus alive.”
Athena started to say something, but the tent flap opened and one of Achilles's black-armored myrmidons came in looking frightened.
"I think we have a problem," the man said.
"My gods," Menelaus gasped, "Is it Protesilaus? Have we failed him already?"
"What...?"
Never mind him, "Agamemnon said, "What's the problem?"
"A foul wind blows from the forest, and the men camped nearest its edge are falling sick. I think it might be serious."
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