You didn't know why you were in Phtia. You didn't know why your father had decided that he didn't want you anymore. "You aren't good enough" he had said. You didn't understand still,but there was nothing you could do except accept your fate.

Achilles had noticed you immediately, he could tell you were new here. New kids were often quiet on their first day, didn't talk much. You were sitting at a table, quietly munching on some bread.

Achilles was the famous of the bunch,always making the other boys laugh with his jokes, and watch with awe as he jungled with the figs. You couldn't help but watch him as well, mesmerised.

Only if you were that famous…

Great. Now you were famous.

It was the next day. Everyone had woken up,ate breakfast and headed outside for training. Achilles wasn't there - not that it was surprising.

The exercise was spear throwing. And the newbies often were first at such exercises.

You held the spear in your dominant hand,like your father had taught you; you raised the spear,and threw.

Everyone watched in awe as the spear hit the centre of the target, something incredibly unusual for newbies. Even you were surprised at your skill.

Now it was dinner time again,but this time the boys were all at your table, impressed by your strength, all asking you for tips so they could become just as good. You were embarrassed at the unnecessary attention,but was grateful regardless.

From the corner of your eye,you could see Achilles glaring at you with jealousy, clearly not appreciating the glory taken away from him.