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Night fell over the besieged Troy. The city was illuminated by hundreds of torches and bonfires, and the air was thick with the stench of death – decay and human excrement. The mixture of feces, urine, blood, and vomit created an odor that perfectly complemented the agony unfolding here. Here and there, hundreds of corpses and half-dead soldiers lay scattered. Many of them were lying in their own excrement, maimed and torn, praying to the gods for death.
The townspeople whispered about spies who had infiltrated the city. Trust between the residents had been eroded – no one trusted anyone. Hostor entered the infirmary, concerned about the head wound he had received. There were only a couple of doctors in the entire city; the rest had either been killed or were occupying beds meant for the sick. Hostor realized that there were many more who needed medical attention than there were doctors available – some had lost limbs, some had lost an eye, some had suffered burns, but Hostor pushed his guilt deep into his heart and went to see the doctor.
Meanwhile, Morning and Cash were discussing the progress of the battle:
- Morning, why are you suddenly so sad? We haven't lost yet!
He sighed and said sadly:
- We've lost, we've lost. I've lost. - After a pause, he continued - He has another, or even another one.
- What are you talking about, friend?
- About Hostor, about Hostor... He's got dynamite.
The townspeople whispered about spies who had infiltrated the city. Trust between the residents had been eroded – no one trusted anyone. Hostor entered the infirmary, concerned about the head wound he had received. There were only a couple of doctors in the entire city; the rest had either been killed or were occupying beds meant for the sick. Hostor realized that there were many more who needed medical attention than there were doctors available – some had lost limbs, some had lost an eye, some had suffered burns, but Hostor pushed his guilt deep into his heart and went to see the doctor.
Meanwhile, Morning and Cash were discussing the progress of the battle:
- Morning, why are you suddenly so sad? We haven't lost yet!
He sighed and said sadly:
- We've lost, we've lost. I've lost. - After a pause, he continued - He has another, or even another one.
- What are you talking about, friend?
- About Hostor, about Hostor... He's got dynamite.