So-Called “Genius” Odysseus Just Ignored a Dire Prophecy
The great tactician is making an error from which nobody could recover
If you’re like me, you’ve spent the last few months rolling your eyes whenever anyone talks about how “brilliant” Ithacan general Odysseus is. Of course, I’ve been stuck on a warship bound for Troy, so I’ve probably heard it a little bit more often than most. No one will shut up about how clever and cunning he is. Someone even said that he’s the only person smart enough to string his own bow, as if that’s a task that requires brains. It’s all brute strength, which I’ll admit that the blockhead has in spades.
When we picked this guy up to join the war effort, he was sowing his fields with salt. Does that sound like something a genius would do? The dolt even had his plow yoked to two different beasts. At first, I couldn’t fathom why everyone was acting like he was some great intellect who would prove invaluable to the war effort, but then I overheard that Hermes is his great-grandfather. He’s your prototypical nepo-baby. If that weren’t enough, he’s also got Athena’s favor for some unfathomable reason. I don’t think he’s ever accomplished anything on his own in his entire life.
In any case, the dullard has finally made a mistake even the gray-eyed goddess can’t undo. During our journey to Troy, an oracle prophesied that the first Greek ashore would also be the first among us to perish. Everyone was predictably a bit apprehensive about disembarking once we arrived. Well, hot-headed Odysseus apparently got sick of waiting. As I write this, he has just vaulted over the gunwale of his ship and leapt onto the beach. The mental giant even threw his shield out before him, ensuring that he would face the Trojan forces without any way to defend himself.
I suppose I should be thankful to Odysseus. Whether it was bravery, or, more likely, stupidity, he has sacrificed himself for our cause. Now I can bound ashore and earn some glory for myself without the specter of fated death hanging over me. Thank you, Odysseus. When I return to Phylace, I shall cast a statue of your dull-witted likeness and honor it daily for the rest of my life.