Book 8

The sun shone, having no alternative. And as the sun inevitably rises, so do we Trojans, once again, inevitably prepare for another war. I am tiring of the conflicts, as they pile on after the other. I want rest. I want our journey to end. It seems that the closer we come to our destination, the more senseless the conflict becomes. I do not believe any of this to be a fault of anyone other than Fate's and the gods' cruelty. I suspect, I suppose that I hope, that our reward will be worthy of the trials we have faced. I do not place blame on Aeneas, but I cannot help but feel, down in my soul, that he draws conflict with him wherever he may go. It seems that he brings trouble with him. Regardless, as my captain and friend  I will follow him to the grave, honorably so, as I will eventually die in war, like many of my brethren and comrades; it is an inevitable death for the warrior but one I will accept honorably. Of course, now Aeneas has brought the Arcadians into the conflict, which is strategically intelligent but makes me uncomfortable. Even more innocent lives are being thrown into war, but I suppose that we all have our fated death, and as the sun rises and sets, so must we.