He sits on a rock, hands laced in his hair and tugging. Grief, anger at the incompetence–

"It is often thus, Ambrosios. It was a noble effort; do not be ashamed."

…

“Then I shall see you in Elysium.”

He rises, going to have a word with his men.

"Ambrosios."

He stops.

Turns.

"Have you forgotten the lessons I taught you?"

He exhales. “Athena–”

"Enough. You are wiser than this, Ambrosios; do not forget your craft. Your first device was defeated; it is not your only one. If this war is to happen, let it be a short one." And in the manner of a tutor or philosopher: "How can one win a war before its time?"

A muscle feathers in his jaw.

“Tell me how.”

She glares at him disapprovingly; her eyes whirl like storm-clouds. "Do not be ruled by your anger; if you wish to be angry at the folly of men, then you must spend all your days consumed by rage."

Breathe.

This is reality. He must face it.

“Very well. Goddess of wisdom that you are.”

"Indeed."

She regards him for a moment, perfectly calm. 

"What, Ambrosios, does it take to win a war?"

He gives Her a shrewd stare.

“One calculated strike. But I suppose you will tell me I am wrong.”

She rolls her eyes. "It was not a rhetorical question. Describe aloud the state of affairs such that you would have won this war."

Gods above can She get to the point he has meetings–

“I almost did it. Hector was going to agree to our terms, I saw it. He does not want this war any more than we do, but it is too late now to exchange words instead of weaponry. Troy cannot stand forever – not without food, water, trade from its allies. If we cannot penetrate their walls or spirits… then we will wait until they break.”

Galora.

"You are still attached to your first plan. It failed. Let it go. You still do not answer my question. Do you mock me? Or do you not understand? What does winning this war look like?"

He snaps before he knows it. “It looks like Paris dead, the bitch returned to her husband, and peace at home with my wife.”

"What madness has overtaken your reason? You know better. If you truly care for Ithaca, for your wife, for your son, more than you care for shouting about how much you care for them, then you will not waste time on petty outbursts, and still less will you dare rebuke me. Paris need not die; if Menelaus were otherwise assuaged, would you linger here only to slay him? No. I grow tired of this. State for me the conditions of victory. Do not forget what war you are fighting."

He takes a series of deep breaths, fingers itching.

Feelings aside.

“Helen returned. The Trojans defeated or appeased.”

Feelings aside. 

“Goddess, if there is some darkness obscuring my understanding, I bid You; guide me.”

"Better, but disappointing. Victory for you is getting home and staying there. If that path goes through the fall of Troy, then what does it mean for 'the Trojans' to be 'defeated' or 'appeased'? All of them? Every Trojan dead or happy? No. Your war is fought for the woman, Helen. Does every path to retrieving her go through "waiting until they break"? Obviously not. There are innumerable other paths. Does every path even go through "laying a siege"? Obviously not. Do not be so disheartened that your first device fails, that you forget the hundred others at your fingertips."

…

“Thank you, Goddess. I will not disappoint You a second time.”

"When you disappoint me next, it will not be the second time or the tenth; and yet you are favoured by me above all the Achaeans. I will not say 'good luck', but 'good skill'."

She is gone. 

Night falls. There is a guest to see Lord Aetos in his camp; one who claims to be a prince.

Is there really. Send him into the tent with a couple of hidden archers in range.