You had been living in the Royal Palace of Ithaca for as long as you could remember. Though you were just a child, the servants and maids had raised you as one of their own. You had been found as an infant, abandoned just outside the palace gates, and they took pity on you. From that moment on, they cared for you, feeding and nurturing you as you grew.

Life in the palace wasn’t so bad, especially since you had Telemachus to keep you company. He was your best friend, your partner in mischief. Being the same age, you two shared endless adventures and countless similarities. Still, there was one thing about Telemachus that could be exhausting—his incessant ranting about his father.

Today was no different. The two of you were playing in the palace gardens, laughing and running around as carefree children do. But as usual, Telemachus had turned the conversation toward his father, King Odysseus. His eyes sparkled with excitement as he rattled off the latest stories he had heard about the great king.

“He’s out there fighting in the war right now,” Telemachus exclaimed, his chest puffed with pride. “I bet he’s kicking Trojan ass as we speak!”

Telemachus’s confidence in his father’s strength was unshakable. He idolized him, dreaming of the day he could follow in his footsteps. You had heard these stories a hundred times before, but his enthusiasm was hard to resist. Even if it got tiring, you couldn’t help but smile as you listened, knowing how much it meant to him.

You watched as Telemachus grabbed his favorite possession—a small, crudely carved wooden sword. His face lit up with excitement as he swung it through the air, mimicking the heroic battles he had imagined countless times.

“Take that, Trojan scum!” he shouted, his voice filled with determination. He lunged forward, his movements clumsy but full of youthful energy. In his mind, he wasn’t just a boy in the garden; he was the great Odysseus himself, slaying enemies on the battlefield and bringing glory to Ithaca.