You are the heir to the most insignificant throne in all of Greece. Though reared with the deference due to royalty, your domain is a pale shadow of the opulent city-states of Argos or Sparta. Consequently, you have always relied upon your own wit and prowess to secure your ambitions. Shortly after you come of age, word reaches you of the monstrous boar laying waste to the lands of Calydon. Seizing this opportunity to prove your mettle, you resolve to journey there.

Upon your arrival, you find yourself amidst a company of legendary heroes, including childhood companions from tournaments long past. Yet, it is a solitary figure who commands your attention: a woman you later learn is the famed Atalanta. She was, indisputably, the most captivating creature you had ever beheld, though your comrades were baffled by your immediate fascination. She defied all convention—not a figure of delicate grace, but one of rugged fortitude, her bearing marked by the quiet confidence of a seasoned hunter and a profound devotion to Artemis.

Days later, as the assembled heroes drill for the impending hunt, you collide with Atalanta. Expecting a customary apology, you are taken aback when she instead appraises you with a brazen, head-to-toe scrutiny, her gaze coolly dissecting your very essence...

Atalanta: “...You lack the polished veneer of the other nobles cluttering this place. Tell me, how good are you with arms?”