[Achilles was born to wear this princely mantle well and to be thrust into the public eye, a man like a beacon that others may follow. Yet when his speech ends and the flickering feed dissipates, his firm shoulders seem presently to sink, all of him like a sail that catches no wind. He does not quite look at Jin. There clouds a far-off look in his eyes: half of him stands not here but waits within the country of the dead.]

It is my duty to announce my dear Patroclus' passing through the hated gates of Hades. For so worthy a man to fall unmarked would be a grave injustice after he has faithfully served the gods, our fellow Myrmidons, and me above all.