The Song of Patroclus

Chapter 17

But first, to Aulis. Aulis, one of the tiniest of our kingdoms, had long enough of a shoreline to beach all our ships at once. Agamemnon ordered all his forces be assembled in one place. Perhaps, to show just the lengths of Greece's power.

It took us five days to reach Aulis. The small island was surrounded by ships, each filled with warriors and soldiers that blanketed the land like ants. In front of them, the crowd in Phthia seemed mild. Beyond them, the land was covered in tents, stretched around the horizon, the kings' pavillions were marked with might banners, sitting proudly over the tents, gilded in colors of their respective kingdoms.

Horns blew as the first of our ships landed ashore. The news spread through the land swiftly, excitement rippling through the crowds as our ship neared the ground.

Even from as far as we were, we could hear the word they spoke together, as one.

A-chil-les! A-chil-les!

They cried the name, accentuating every syllable with the defeaning strikes of their spears against the ground. Prince Achilles is here.

The soldiers and kings gathered alike, excitedly to greet us. I took a gentle step back, looking at Patroclus in slight nervousness. Every face that would go down in history was standing in front of me. Patroclus nods at me. I was ready. I knew I was.

I take a deep breath and stood at the gangway, at its top. The shouts and the spears do not falter, even for a moment.

I narrow my eyes. Colors of the Myrmidons, Spartans, and Argives flew in the distance, among others. Tents of soldiers and kings lined the land in the distance. What seperated the kings from the soldiers was the pennants that their squires carried behind them; the blue banner of Diomedes, the yellow of Odysseus; and finally the biggest and brightest; a lion on a royal purple, the symbol of Agamemnon and Mycenae. Agamemnon could have been seen even without his pennant. With a chest so wide and a face so complacent, he was unmistakable.

I drew air in my lungs, looking back at Patroclus. A Myrmidon man, a army captain from the looks of it, cupped his palms around his mouth and cried; "Prince Achilles, son of King Peleus and the goddess Thetis. Aristos Achaion."

I blinked, and awe rippled through the crowd. I could feel my tunic's wrinkles dissapearing, the way my spine completely straightened on its own. I resisted the urge to squint my eyes from the sudden, harsh sun. New cheers went around, even louder then before. I did not understand what was happening. But there was no reason to question it.

Was this what it felt like to be a god?

A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. This itself was victory enough.

A pathway opened between the soldiers, leading towards where the many kings were gathered. I marched down the ship, as many of the princes before me, to present myself for the kings. I stopped ten feet in front of the kings. Patroclus stood beside me.

Agamemnon waited for us. It was the first time I looked at him in proximity. With an eagle's beak for a nose and the eyes of a wolf, he stood proud and broad. His eyes shone with greedy intellegence and his nose crinkled with condescension. His grey hair shone in the cruel sun, deepening the wrinkles on his face. He was old, older then the forty we knew him to be. On his right stood Odysseus and Diodemes. His brother, Menelaus, stood proud beside him, as if he was not the cause of the war. His face was softer, rigged with smile-lines, and handsome in a way that was not common in his family.

Agamemnon stepped forward, opening his hands to me. He offered a smile that looked unnatural on his face, standing in expectation of the bow and obeisance I owed him. He would not get them. My hands clenched into fists at my side. I came here to fight. I came here for fame. I came here to live. I did not come here to kneel at some hoary king's feet and promise some respect I did not have.

I watched his jaw tighten. I felt Patroclus shift nervously beside me. Agamemnon knew he seemed silly, irritation flickering in his eyes, hands out for a greeting that would not come. Uneasiness spread through the crowd. Glances are shared by the quiet men around.

I heard Patroclus take a deep breath beside me. Odysseus took a step forward to intervene.

"I am Achilles," I started. "Son of Peleus, god-born, best of the Greeks." I had not believed the words more then I did now. "I have come to bring you victory."

Agamemnon raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. The soldiers were silent for a moment, before they went up in cheers and roars. Heroes were never modest.

Odysseus rest a firm hand on Achilles' shoulder, smiling at Agamemnon. "Agamemnon, Lord of Men, we have brought the prince Achilles to pledge his allegiance to you." His eys were filled with warning. It's not too late, swallow your pride. That was never something heroes were good at.

"I come freely to offer my aid to your cause," I speak with a smile, stepping forward to make Odysseus' hand fall off me. I did not want him under the delusion he had any influence on my decision to be here. I am here for the war, for the fame it'll promise. I will not have my fellow soldiers think I am below Agamemnon. "I am honored to fight with so many noble warriors of our kingdoms." I smile and nod at the men surrounding us, who's deafening cheers once again uprise, taking long minutes before dying down.

Agamemnon spoke with a sharp patience, the sort that's mastered through years. "Indeed, I have the finest army in the world. And I welcome you to it, young prince of Phthia. It is a pity you were so slow to come," He spoke with a sharp smile. I raised an eyebrow at the insinuation. I opened my mouth to retort, but he continued quickly. "Men of Greece, we have delayed long enough." He throws me a sharp glance. "We leave for Troy tomorrow. Repair to your camps and make yourselves ready." He turned around sharply, retreating back into his tent, his kings following like nervous ducks.

A few stayed back to greet us, Antilochus of Pylos, Thessalian Eurypylus, Meriones of Crete and the physician Podalerius. Many, that had been here before the armies managed to straggle together, gave sly looks and sly comments of how late I was to the war.

"Prince Achilles," Phionix spoke. "Please excuse my intrusion. I thought you would wish to know that your camp is being prepared," He spoke as he casted me and Patroclus a subtle glare. There was not much he could say around the crowded heroes.

"Thank you, worthy Phionix," I spoke sharply. "If you'll pardon us—?"

I did not wait for his response. I strided through the crowds of men, Patroclus at my side. They would all retreat to their rooms for a well-needed rest. Many would consider leaving. Damn the fame, the would think as they rolled in their bedroll. They'd cast rueful glances at their baggages, remember the wives they'd never cared to love.

As we sat in the camp, Myrmidons streamed around us, offering baggage and food, poles and canvas. Menelaus' herald approached us, bowed in feigned respect, and apologized that Menelaus could not greet us himself. Clever tact, me and Patroclus had agreed as we shared a glance. We did not make a friend in his brother, so he did not come. But he also did not disrespect us completely.

"A man who plays both sides of the fence," Patroclus muttered as the herald turned to leave. I smiled at him.

"A man who cannot afford to offend me if he wants his wife returned," I whispered back. He smiled at him.

The herald offered a tour. We accepted. He led us through the camps, through the loud, boisterous crowds of men that reminded me of the boys at home when we were young. How simple of a time that was.

There was not a place in the camps we were not inspected. By soldiers, by kings. Who inspected my hair and my limbs and wondered if I was fit to actually be Aristos Achaion. I was.

They'd see it for themselves tomorrow.

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happy new years lmfaooo. here's my gift to u babes, sorry for not uploading for *checks notes* 3 months?? my bad y'all life is a raging dumpster fire when you're a senior. have fun with thsi.