"Try to keep it quiet. We don't want their scouts to find out about our plan."

It's hopeless, but I have to try it. The Captain — Agamemnon — raises a valid question though.

"Isn't the goal to let them know we've retreated and have them think they've won?" She asks, but I shake my head.

Or let's say, Odysseus does, since he's more versed in these things.

"We can't risk an ambush before we're done, and we must make it believable."

It's a sound explanation, but I couldn't make it up without the inherited memories.

I'm still on the fence about this magic bullshit Dive and Anchor stuff, but this can't be a dream either.

Things are slow, too detailed, and realistic.

I can walk for ten seconds in a dream, and the building around me will change shape.

Seasons will pass three times, and things are never boring with those random time skips.

My daydreams are more consistent, but I couldn't make up this many details.

Besides, I'm in control there, and aware of my surroundings.

Even if this isn't a Dive, it's something special.

"We can't pack all the supplies inside."

"Leave everything unnecessary."

"Why bother if they'll return tomorrow night?" Agamemnon asks, but that's an easy question, I can answer it even with Odysseus' memories.

"Because they have to believe that we won't. Leave the tents and the siege weaponry, a retreating army wouldn't bother with those." It's more than having them march on the deck.

Herding thousands of warriors onto ships in the dead of night is tedious in this setting.

The logistics are more complex than anything I've seen in a dream.

"The tide is rising, hurry up."

I bark muted commands for hours, this is anything but dynamic and interesting.

But my body does everything on its own.

Who would have thought that being a strategist is this hard?

Will this knowledge ever be useful once I return to the real world?

Will I even remember them, or anything from here?

"And off they go." The rival, Achilleus notes, her hand shielding her eyes from the rising sun behind us, as the fleet sets off. The sea is still dark, but it's already dawn.

The beach is empty. Only the deserted camp, the half dozen anime waifus, and I remain.

We draw the horse up the hill, climb inside, and wait. We only leave some decoys outside.

The Greeks didn't protest against my plan after Agamemnon gave it the green light.

They don't even question it, whether it's me, or literal anime girls. They treat us as their leaders.

Gender or looks don't matter to them. What if they don't even see how we look? I'm my usual self, only the clothing changed from how I fell asleep in the Grande Library.

The Princess Knight characters look like actresses.

It's as if the live-action adaptation of their latest episode is already out.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

It's a perfect cast, especially for Aratsuki. She still doubts me.

It's fine, I refuse to believe her explanations too. This can't be real, though I'm getting more into it.

I want to win this war for the Greeks, whether they're real or characters from a book.

They play a vital part in the plan, acting as deserters and leaking the news of our retreat for the Trojans. The timing is important, they have to hide until the fleet gets away.

By noon, they let their scouts capture them.

They swarm the beaches celebrating — everything according to my plans.

"There's no way they'll fall for it." The Princess Knight Aratsuki whispers, her breath hot on my neck. The wooden horse is huge, but for all the waifus, it's a tight fit. "They'll find us soon."

"That's the goal." I try to remain calm, but this is too arousing for my original self.

Odysseus might be an adult with a wife and a kid, but I'm still a virgin, squeezed between many hot girls.

And there's no time skip: we wait there for hours.

Bodies touching and their breath on my skin, when I'm the only male inside.

Once the sun reaches higher on its daily course, it gains strength.

Imagine all the sweat and perfume mingling in that confined space.

The manga characters are in full armor, too, and the excitement is oil to the fire.

Once a group of Trojans approaches us, it's already noon.

"Is this it?" There's a Greek 'deserter' with them, a distant relative of Odysseus.

He recognized me in my current form, so we must be like them as the locals, despite our distinct looks.

"Yes. The cowards built this from the planks of all the ships that lost their crews." His voice echoes from the Apollo temple nearby. "I hope they all sink in their retreat."

He was happy to play the role of a grumbled officer, even though it's risky. Will they buy it?

Aratsuki seems even more skeptical. It's almost like she wants us to fail.

"Won't the god Apollo get mad at us if we drew it inside the city though?" A Trojan scout hesitates, but the man is ready for this question and hollers.

"Apollo fought on your side, but who beat the Acheans? He or you? It's your victory price that they offered for safe passage. Bring it to the city and celebrate." His words are convincing.

It takes more soldiers to drag it away though.

The half-dozen anime girls could pull it up the hill, but they're overpowered. Everyone else is only human.

Two dozen Trojans in three shifts take most of the afternoon to take us into the city. It's mind-numbing, and slow, to stay still and quiet in the statue that resembles an oven by now.

Never again. Even if we lay low, I sweat so hard, I'm worried about dripping it on their heads. They still don't suspect that we're inside though. I hold my breath and fight this weird arousal.

Stress and excitement and hot girls in a hot, dark space can guarantee a hard-on.