Indeed, I am held to be the best of the Achaeans, both strongest of spear and swiftest of foot. Black fear fills the hearts of the horse-taming Trojans when they see my helmet glinting upon the dawn of battle, for they know it will not be long before they are cast down through the gate of Hades: I've robbed from Priam a great many of his sons. By my spear I've won countless fine prizes too: sturdy racing horses, herds of oxen, talents of gold, bronze tripods, and more besides these. Such treasures should speak to my great honor.

[He speaks not with bloodlust as he details the loss of life he has wrought, but nor does remorse ring reverent through his words: they are sturdy and straight, for it is his honor that lies at the center of his speech. War has hardened him, but it has not numbed him. He knows well the pain he brings to others, for he has suffered the same pain in the death of one cherished. Someday, just as Priam has felt at the hands of Achilles, his own father will feel the hollow ache of a son lost to the jaws of war.]

My father, as I have said before, is Peleus, a worthy king of Aeacus' stock - and his father too, the judge of men Aeacus, was in life a worthy king borne of Zeus who delights in thunder. I pray too that my own Neoptolemus will someday a worthy king become, if still he lives.