Diomedes will not yield.

The leader of the brigands could only watch as the rest of his forces slowly fell to the might of this stranger and his army. Who was he and where did he come from? His armor was not like anything the brigand had seen, the way his army fought was calculated yet passionate, they fought with such skill and yet with such intensity. Before he could die, the brigand wanted to know just one more thing. The brigand wanted to know who this commander was, where did he come from, and just what kind of war had left this stranger to lands far beyond him.

What the brigand didn’t realize, was that it wasn’t the war that changed Diomedes, it was what happened after.

After the siege of Troy and after a safe journey back home, Diomedes returned to his city only to find his wife became unfaithful, became involved with multiple men, and that his title to throne was disputed. Frustrated that he was, Diomedes could not blame what had gone on as human sins. He knew fully well that his former wife’s change of heart and the council’s decision for his title of king to be disputed was attributed to the goddess Aphrodite and her attempts at getting revenge to the former King of Argos. Realizing the futility of arguing amongst a council of nobles who hearts have been corrupted by the Goddess of seduction, Diomedes chose to leave Argos and to travel across the Mediterranean Sea. He offered his army the desire to travel with him to lands beyond Greece or to stay and return to their families.

An overwhelming amount chose to stay with the former king and the ones returned to live with their families chose to leave Argos out of contempt towards the city’s politics and their treatment of their former king. Thus, Diomedes abandoned his title of lord and returned to the life he always knew, the life he always understood, the life of a soldier once more.

Without its army and king, Argos was never the same and was doomed to the most humiliating punishment of all Greek cities, obscurity.

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“Commander, the remaining brigands have chosen to surrender. We have rounded up as many survivors as we can. We are awaiting your orders.”

Diomedes sheathed his sword; his blade having executed the brigand leader.

“Offer them the same choice we offered to the last opposition that challenged us. Either they can join us, or we offer Hades a few more souls for his underworld.”

“Yes, sir.”

As one of Diomedes’s officers began to leave another one arrived in his place to report something important.

“Commander.”

“How many?”

“70 injured, 25 dead.”

“Have their burials been prepared?”

“Yes, commander. We have begun our burial rites and will begin listing off the names of the men who have fallen.”

“Start.”

“Corporal Spiros of Argos, Corporal Iosif of Argos, Captain Silas of Corinth, Sergeant Tasos of Argos, Major Eros of Megera, Corporal Adam of Argos…”

As the officer continued listing names, Diomedes looked to the grass plains of the battle that had just ended. Fields of green, now a cascade of blood and fire. His soldiers attending to the wounded and making sure each of them were alright. Many dead brigands being tended and buried by the very men who had ended their lives. Diomedes made sure to teach his men that once they have killed their opponent, that they personally be the ones who bury them. For no family or comrade of theirs will be able to do so, it falls on the victor’s responsibility.

Soon, tears began burning on the general’s eyes. Tears not born out of the lost of a loved one, nor born out of the joy of a new life. But tears born out of those who have fallen in battle, both ally and enemy. Because after decades of fighting, Diomedes knew that war could only afford so many tears until one no longer has tears to shed. Diomedes chose to cry and mourn for those lost and cannot be mourned. These dead soldiers are far, far away from their homes, with no one to grieve over their deaths except for their fellow soldiers.

Because war could never give, only take. Diomedes knew this and still, he pressed on, because this was a soul who had the weight of thousands on his back. Souls of both his enemies and his allies, now dead. To not continue would be a mockery of their deaths and so.

Diomedes marched forward.

Until he no longer could.