All was not well in Olympus.

In all fairness, the home of the gods could have been aptly described as "not well" for the majority of the past four thousand years. The numerous affairs, incest, and fratricide that seemed to plague the Olympic family were enough to write hundreds of epic poems. In fact, there already were several epics that depicted the misadventures of the Greek pantheon, most of them about Zeus' inability to remain loyal to his wife for longer than twenty minutes. But who was counting?

Athena sat on her throne in the Olympic Council, impatiently waiting for the emergency session to begin. She was the first one here, again. In her thousands of years, she had never understood how divine beings capable of instant teleportation still managed to be late. She had gone ballistic when Hephaestus had shown up to Saturnalia dinner two hours late, causing an argument that may have ended up with the accidental destruction of the Roanoke colony.

Athena straightened as she heard the familiar sound of wings growing louder. In an instant, Hermes flew into the room, making two loops around the chamber before diving into his throne. Athena ducked quickly as Hermes passed over her, narrowly avoiding being kicked in the face by his wayward leg.

"It's nice to see you, Hermes," Athena said sarcastically, brushing her coat off.

Hermes grinned, seemingly unaware of her cold tone. "I see you're here first again, Athena. Speed's supposed to be my thing, you know." Hermes removed his winged cap, placing it gently on a rack attached to his throne. He took off his mail sack, pulling it over his scarlet frock coat.

"I wouldn't always be first if anyone bothered to show up on time," Athena retorted.

Hermes smiled apologetically. "Sorry, but I had some important messages to deliver. News about the war, and all that. It's not something I can put off."

"Of course," she replied icily.

The awkward moment was saved by a sudden pop, as Apollo appeared in his throne with a flash of multicolored light. The god of music was all dressed up, complete with a white powdered wig and a bright yellow waistcoat that extended to the floor. Frills extended from every opening on his jacket, covering his hands and partially obscuring his face. His liberal use of white face powder made him look like a garishly-dressed ghost.

"Apollo," Athena greeted, nodding at him.

"Athena!" Apollo stood up and walked towards her, arms outstretched. Athena reflexively grabbed the dagger that was hidden in her dress. "So good to see you!" Apollo bent over and gave her a kiss on both cheeks before doing an unnecessary backflip.

Athena wiped her face, scowling. "A charmer as always, Apollo," she said, watching with some satisfaction as he gave Hermes the same treatment.

"As always," Apollo affirmed, sitting back in his throne. He pulled a violin from thin air and began lazily playing concerto pieces. "I hope this doesn't last too long. I had to leave several disappointed ladies at King Louis' party right now, and I don't know how long the memory of my magnificence will keep them waiting."

"How tragic."

"Isn't it?" Apollo finished his violin piece with a dramatic flourish, frowning slightly at the lack of adoration from his audience.

Athena sighed and settled in her throne, tapping her foot anxiously as the other gods trickled into the chamber. Soon, almost all of the Olympic Council had arrived, leaving only the two thrones in the front of the chamber empty.

Zeus thundered into the room, slamming the doors open with a gust of wind. He was wearing a dark blue coat with a golden trim, and a large cape that flew behind him. Behind him walked Hera, strutting regally in a wide dress past the Olympians.

The assembled gods were quiet as Zeus took his seat, glaring at all of them as he sat in silence. After a few seconds, he spoke in an authoritative voice.

"I am sure all of you have heard of the recent outbreak of war between Great Britain and the Colonies. Because London is currently the seat of Olympus, this affair could have a significant impact on all of us."

Ares punched the arm of his throne. "I say we crush the rebels!" His numerous military medals jangled against his blood-red jacket. "I've been wanting to test out some new muskets in battle!"

"I think we should support the Americans," Athena interjected. "Their government is based heavily off of Greek democracy. They could be beneficial to us."

Ares sneered. "Of course you would support them, Athena. That Washington, he's one of yours, isn't he?"

A flush rose to Athena's face. "That's irrelevant."

Apollo looked up from tuning his violin. "I'm with Athena. These…Americans are spunky. I like them." He examined one of the strings carefully. "Plus, have you met Franklin? That man can party harder than Dionysus at Kronia." Next to him, Dionysus nodded in agreement.

A crack of lightning outside focused everyone's attention back onto Zeus. "In light of this development," he continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. "As of now, I forbid serious involvement in this situation. No god is to significantly impact the course of human events until this is over."

Apollo groaned. "Can I still perform my orchestra with Mozart? I've planned this for decades!" he whined.

Zeus rubbed his temples. "Yes, Apollo, you can still do…that. I meant anything involving the war." He eyed Ares and Athena menacingly. Athena held her ground, staring back into Zeus' cracking eyes.

Zeus sighed and pounded his lightning bolt, causing sparks to erupt from the end. "This meeting is over," he said, standing up. He disappeared in a flash of electricity, prompting the other gods to start leaving the chamber.

Athena fumed silently over Zeus' proclamation. She glared at Ares as he walked out, gripping her dagger. In response, Ares pulled out a musket from the air.

"See you soon, sister," he said, winking.

Athena ground her teeth in frustration. "We'll see about that," she muttered before exiting the chamber in a flash of gray light.

It was a cold, rainy day in London, as were most days. The capital of the British Empire bustled with activity as its thousands of inhabitants went about their days. Soldiers donning red uniforms patrolled the streets, passing people from across the known world. Ships regularly docked in the city's many ports, laden with riches from the far-flung corners of the empire.

It was in one of these ports that Percy worked, a lowly dockhand who unloaded trade vessels from the East India Company. Percy grunted as he picked up a crate of tea, the contents of which were worth more than his yearly wages. He carried the crate off of the ship and placed it onto the dock, where a pile of goods was being built. Next to him, his friend Grover put down a slightly smaller crate.

"Hey, have you heard of what's going on with the colonies?" Grover asked conversationally as they boarded the ship again.

Percy shrugged. "I've got enough problems of my own without worrying about what's going on on the other side of the world." He bent down and picked up another crate of tea.

"Isn't it exciting, though?" Grover said. "History's happening around us." He grabbed a barrel, stumbling a bit.

"I don't care about history," Percy scoffed. "All I know is that war is bad for trade, and that means trouble for us. Hopefully this'll be over in a few months."

Grover nodded solemnly. "I guess you're right."

Percy sighed. "Sorry, it's just…I'm anxious, is all. I'm already scraping by, and this war isn't going to help." He had made barely enough last month to feed himself and his mother, and prices were sure to rise during wartime. With his mother's condition, next month was likely to be tough.

He was interrupted from his thoughts by a loud bell, the signal for the end of the work day. He and Grover secured the goods that they were holding and lined up to receive their pay. Soon Percy reached the front, where he met Foreman Jay, a portly man wearing an ill-fitting coat. The foreman reached into a pile of coins and dropped twelve pence into Percy's outstretched hand.

Percy frowned as he quickly counted the coins. "I'm supposed to get fifteen pence," he protested, but the foreman shook his head.

"Sorry, Jackson, but the war's hurting the economy. Wages are dropping for the foreseeable future."

Percy's eyes widened as he heard the news. "Sir, I can't…I need-"

"It's rough for everyone, Jackson. I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do."

Percy clenched his fist over the coins. "Thank you, sir," he muttered angrily, turning away. He stomped past Grover, who had watched the encounter with surprise. Percy began to walk home, taking the long path along the docks. He always felt better when he was near the water. Percy breathed in the salty air as he watched ships sail through the Thames, wind filling their sails. He heard snatches of conversation that were carried by the wind from the sailors, who often used colorful language as they tried to delicately bring their ship into port.

"Percy!"

Percy turned to see Grover running after him, waving his arms wildly. Percy stopped to let him catch up, confused. Grover reached him quickly and grabbed his shoulder for support, breathing heavily. For some reason, Grover checked that his pants were properly affixed several times before standing up.

"Here," he said, putting his hand in Percy's. Percy lifted his hand to see that he was holding an extra twelve pence. "I know things are difficult for you right now. I want to help."

Percy shook his head, sticking his hand out. "This is too much. I can't ask you to do this for me," he said.

Grover gently pushed Percy's hand back. "Trust me, you need this more than I do."

Percy still hesitated, not putting the coins in his pocket but not giving them back, either. "I want you to have it," Grover said. He yelped in surprise as Percy pulled him into a tight hug.

"Thank you," Percy said as he released his friend.

Grover nodded, then suddenly became nervous. "Listen, I might be able to help," he said, wringing his hands. "I'm going to have to talk to Chi- I mean, I need to talk to some people, but I can probably get you in…"

Percy frowned. "Don't tell me you're in something dangerous," he said. He knew the underground fight clubs and gangs that plagued the port district of London were always taking in poor kids like himself.

"No, it's nothing like that!" Grover replied quickly, waving his hands. "I mean, it's kind of dangerous, but not that way…I'll tell you tomorrow. Just…get your things together."

"You're worrying me, Grover," Percy said carefully.

"Don't! I'll, um, I'll see you tomorrow!" Grover said, turning around and running away, waving back at him.

Percy weakly waved back at him, frowning. He was worried about Grover's strange behavior, but his friend had always been a bit weird. Percy decided that he would ask him about it the next day. He put the extra coins Grover had given him into his pocket, looking around him warily for any sign of pickpockets that may have seen his sudden windfall.

With a final glance behind him, Percy started the long walk home.