A/N: Pincoat here! I made a mistake last chapter and left out a relatively important detail about Bryssa the Pyromancer. In case you aren't bothered to go read the edited version (fair) then I'll summarise it here.

Bryssa's label is purple, denoting it as a "hero's label". Grover, being from small-island town Montauk, has never actually met anyone with a purple label before.

—Pincoat (You knew that.)

γ

ANNABETH

Lvl. 18 Saboteur

The boy who walked into the brothel looked to be about Annabeth's age. Handsome, black-haired, and green-eyed—he didn't seem like the type to frequent such a dubious locale. Annabeth didn't recall seeing him; she certainly would have remembered a face like that. Guileless as a newborn seal. The blue label above his head spelt out his name and class: Perseus, Raider. Named after the son of Zeus, slayer of Medusa and the legendary Cetus. It was an ambitious name for a child—a heroic name. She didn't know what to make of it. And his class…

Raiders weren't uncommon. The class was an offshoot of Sailor and implied a rougher life than your average fisherman. It was a class for a fighter: be it against monsters, pirates, or gods.

She set down her drink, a diluted wine that tasted vaguely of anise. It was just bitter enough that she doubted its origin, though she couldn't expect much from a brothel.

Brothels played host to a variety of clientele—usually men. There was the occasional hero, looking to spend the night (sometimes a party of them), looking for monsters to hunt. Then there were the people who wanted to spend their time unseen, preferably in a crowd that didn't self-police. Thieves, brokers, and informants of all sorts. Annabeth didn't count herself among them, but she fit in well. Deliberate Feint allowed her to project a read of herself that she wanted others to see. If she wanted to look self-assured and confident in a den of iniquity, then she could. Others would look at her once and wouldn't look again.

The same couldn't be said of the newcomer who was already making waves. Perseus didn't seem to understand the value of discretion. He stopped at a table of three, asking questions in a voice that wasn't nearly low enough.

Most people in the brothel could probably hear him. Annabeth was closer, so she managed to catch the full details—but why the Underworld? What could possibly be worth a journey to the realm of the dead?

Hades was a god with dominion over the great riches of the earth. He was the eldest, if not the most prominent, of the Olympians. His favour wasn't inconsiderable, and neither was his wealth. But if Annabeth was to be honest, there was only ever one reason why a person might risk a journey to the Underworld—and those stories rarely ended well. Orpheus failed to rescue Eurydice, just as Theseus failed to rescue Pirithous. And yet they lived—at least long enough for their stories to become a cautionary tale. No one remembered the heroes who had gone West and hadn't come back.

Annabeth had her own plans for what she'd do if she ever managed to get to the Underworld. She already knew that she wasn't special; there was no chance of her being able to usurp the ambitions of heroes like Orpheus. But maybe it would be worth it, for a final chance to say goodbye. At least a bit of proper closure, so that the past could finally be laid to rest.

Perseus got what he wanted, but not before he bartered a knife—a celestial bronze knife—for the information. Annabeth followed him out. She had been intrigued before, but now she was curious.

"It was a bad deal," she said, catching up to him. "That knife was probably worth more than the brothel; why give it up for so little?"

Perseus coughed. His eyes went immediately to the words above her head.

"That was a brothel?" He tried, poorly, to hide his surprise. "And it was just a knife. Couldn't cut through anything. What does it matter to a Saboteur?"

"My name is Annabeth. And I'm helping you—do you even know what celestial bronze is?"

"What kind of bronze?"

"Celestial bronze," explained Annabeth. "The metal of the gods. Particularly effective against monsters. Or gods. If it didn't cut through anything, then it was only because it wasn't divine."

"Oh."

"My question still stands. Even if you didn't know what it was, you still gave up an item of great value. Presumably for some kind of purpose. Why do you want to go to the Underworld?"

His jaw set. "I need to rescue my mother. One of the Furies took her."

"Di immortales! What did your mother do?"

"She didn't do anything," snapped Perseus. "The ground opened up and swallowed her. I'm getting her back. If you really want to help me, then you can help me with that. Otherwise—I'll just…"

"Do it yourself?" finished Annabeth. Despite herself, she was beginning to feel sorry for him. "Look," she said. "You're on a quest, whether you admit it or not. If you really want to have any chance, you're going to need a group of three. Do you have anyone with you? Friends? Family?"

The pair slowed to a walk as they reached the dockyards of Korinth—squat residential buildings giving way to masts and sails. Flowerbeds exchanged themselves for coils of rope, while wooden planks took the place of stone and dirt. The whole place smelled of salt and sweaty animals; the sound of grumbling sailors accompanied by the cry of gulls overhead.

Perseus was quiet. Annabeth didn't fault him for it. They had only known each other for the better part of a conversation. If his story was true, then he had plenty of reason to be withdrawn. Losing a parent to the god of the Underworld had to be difficult. Who knew how much time had passed in between the loss and the quest?

It wasn't fair of Annabeth to use his grief for her own gain. But he was driven, steadfast in his goal, and just stupid enough to be trustworthy. She was going to do it anyway.

"Let me come with you," she said. "You clearly need the help, and I know my way around a city. Around monsters too, if that becomes a problem."

Green eyes met hers—and for the first time, Annabeth became aware of their depth. It was like looking into the sea. They were curious, startled, questioning. A little suspicious, but mostly overwhelmed by shock.

"You know what I'm after—why do you want to go to the Underworld?"

"To find someone," said Annabeth. "Same as you."

That explanation seemed to pass muster; it was, after all, the truth. He nodded, coming quickly to a decision. All the while, his eyes cast towards the water, as if settling the matter would allow him to be more swiftly on his way.

"Then you should know. I'm not actually doing this by myself. I have a friend; his name is Grover—"

The gods must have smiled upon him, then, because the timing was absolutely perfect.

"PERCY!"

The cry came from a curly-haired boy, sprinting along the shore. There was a small creature running ahead of him, some kind of dog. They were making quick progress through the mess of masts and ships, following the same path that Annabeth and Perseus had taken out from the brothel.

"Is that him?" she asked.

"Yeah, but I think something happened?" He put his arms up in the air, waving them so that Grover would notice. "I'm here!"

As the other boy came to a breathless stop, Annabeth could make out the green letters of his settle: Grover, Farmer. He was in a clear state of distress, chiton dishevelled and sweaty. Annabeth didn't think much of him: he began talking like Annabeth wasn't even there—and she wasn't even trying to be unnoticed.

"They took them, Percy! Asterix and Obelix—there was a ship, and this lady, and she had me under some sort of trance! And then she took them; she tried to get Goliath, but he bit her, and she kicked him! I barely made it out—Percy, they're after me."

"Who's after you?"

"Her crew; some smugglers…"

Grover was breathing heavily. He seemed to have recovered a little, because he looked up and squinted at Annabeth, noticing—finally—that she was there.

"Uh… who's your new friend?" His voice dropped to a whisper.

"This is Annabeth. She's said that she's going to help us—"

"Forget the introductions, Percy." She looked directly at Grover. "How many people are after you?"

The dog, which had been quietly nuzzling the boy's leg up until this point, began to growl. Annabeth looked around, spotting two men who were now forcing their way towards them. So, there was her answer: Two.

One was a Deckhand, the other was a burly armed Boatswain. She looked to Percy—two, they could probably take down—and saw that he'd noticed them as well. He leapt to the side, hand outstretched, reaching for one of the many tangles of netting that sailors had left strewn about the docks. She saw it wriggle in his grip, like it had been possessed by a nest of serpents, and then launching itself at the approaching enemies.

The Deckhand yelped, nearly falling over himself with a poorly timed dodge. The Boatswain was caught full-on but didn't seem fazed. Not until Percy stood, holding on to the lead line as the rest of the net deliberately knotted itself around the burly man's legs. Unable to retain his balance and his forward momentum, he fell to the ground, kicking and pulling in a futile attempt to escape his restraints. His smaller companion, the Deckhand, had managed to avoid the same fate, but a touch of Deliberate Feint gave Annabeth the opportunity to slip her foot out and catch him by surprise. He fell down too—this time into the waiting embrace of yet more rope, which Percy had called to her aid.

It was an impressive ability, one that Annabeth hadn't seen before. Sailors were a part of the Kakoi caste; they weren't pressed into military service in the same way that Maketes were, and so most didn't think to use their skills in an offensive manner. Controlling ropes in the way that Percy seemed capable of was a very useful thing—both on sea, and repurposed for combat. The only limitation appeared to be accessibility: This time, they had been fortunate enough to be in a shipyard, where rope could be found unattended and lying on the ground. To maximize Percy's abilities in the future, they'd have to make sure that he had rope available to him at all times.

"What should we do with them?" he asked. By this point, the two men were well and truly bound—laid out across the docks and fastened head to foot. Their arms and legs were each anchored to a different post. All of this to say: they weren't getting up anytime soon.

"Get whatever information we can," said Annabeth, walking up to the Deckhand and turning his head aside with her foot. "How many more of you are there?"

He laughed, spittle flying uselessly into the air. Grover shivered.

"A few dozen… I didn't see all of them…"

"You said that they took Asterix and Obelix? Who are they?"

That didn't get a response. Percy stepped forward to volunteer the information instead.

"His lambs. They're small—not sure why someone would go after them… but they're part of his flock; we're going to have to get them back."

Great. Another obstacle to overcome. Annabeth had already committed to this quest, though. Now it was time to commit even more.

"If they don't cooperate, I don't see why we shouldn't just kill them." She made sure to say it in the hearing of the two men. Maybe the threat of death would frighten some better information out of them. They didn't have all that much time, after all. Sooner or later, the three Oarsmen on the opposing side of the dock would actually come to see what was happening. And they weren't the only ones. Annabeth spotted at least three other interested parties—kept at bay only by curiosity. For now.

"I—what? We can't just kill them." Percy looked conflicted. It made Annabeth wonder if this was the first time he'd taken a life.

"Why not?" she pressed. "They attacked us first. We're perfectly within our rights to make sure they don't come after us again."

"People are watching! And it's not like they're a threat to us right now. If we take this up with the Captain—"

Grover made a sound, halfway between a choke and a gasp. Percy broke off from the argument, concerned, as Grover collapsed against him. He was screaming now; great shuddering wails that seemed completely out of character from the shy and panicked boy that Annabeth had assumed him to be. What was going on? Had some skill been used to take him down from afar?

She looked back to the two trussed-up men. It didn't look like either of them was responsible… Percy was trying to pull Grover back up into a standing position, but he wasn't having much luck. The other boy was unresponsive, shivering violently as he tried to curl up into a ball.

Annabeth bit her lip and considered the no-longer-favourable situation. Percy was right—people were watching. She'd known that they were watching, and now the screaming Farmer was going to excite them into action. Grover was definitely out of commission, and while he probably wouldn't have been useful in a fight anyway, the more important part of his distress was that it was incapacitating Percy as well. Annabeth made up her mind, tugging at the sleeve of Percy's chiton to get his attention.

"You're right. Let's go."

"What?" Percy was still trying to get a response from his friend. Meanwhile, the Oarsmen that Annabeth had noticed earlier were already making their way down the docks. Her instincts screamed at her to run.

"These guys aren't worth it. Let's find a place for Grover to recover first. I don't know what's happened, but he can tell us more about it when he's not like this—whatever information he'll be able to give us will probably be better anyway."

"C'mon Grover. Get up—we have to get out of here."

The dog, which had escaped Annabeth's attention so far, was limp and unmoving. She scooped it up in her arms, and tugged once more at Percy's chiton. He'd managed to get Grover into some approximation of a standing position—holding the other boy upright by bracing his own shoulder against the crook of Grover's arm.

They left the two men tied down to the docks and headed deeper into the city.

It took Grover an hour for his hands to stop trembling, and a further half an hour for Percy to coax him back into speech.

"He's gone, Percy… I felt it. Asterix… and they still have Obelix…"

Annabeth kept watch, waiting a little impatiently as the Farmer began to cry once more. They'd gone back to the brothel, pushing through a crowd of unwelcome and curious stares to get up to her room. What she'd been able to piece together was this:

Somehow, somewhere else by the docks, Grover had managed to get himself involved with a group of animal smugglers. Their captain, Lydia, was a woman with a high enough Soul that she'd managed to ensnare Grover right away—luring him onto her ship and taking his two lambs: Asterix and Obelix. He escaped, looking for Percy, and found him, just in time for the smugglers to presumably become impatient and kill one of the two lambs.

If they were going to rescue the remaining one, they needed to strike quickly. Waiting around was more likely to infuriate the smugglers more—and besides, it gave the two tied-up men time to escape and get back to their captain with news of Annabeth and Percy's involvement.

"What else can you tell us about Lydia?" pressed Annabeth. "Her ship, her crew. Could you recognize it if we went back to the docks?"

Grover whimpered. Percy nudged his arm.

"You can trust her. The faster we get back Asterix, the faster we can leave the city…"

"So you have a ship?" asked Annabeth. "You're aware that we can't make the trip to the Underworld by foot—"

"Of course I know that," scowled Percy. "The trip to Korinth took long enough on its own. Grover was looking into it, but now we have to deal with the smugglers. We can't do anything without rescuing Asterix first."

"But the smugglers have a ship…" Annabeth hummed. "You're a Sailor class aren't you? How many people do you think you'll need to commandeer a ship?"

"Depends on the size of the ship. Just myself if it's small, but I haven't exactly had a chance to try on anything larger than my master's kaiki."

"So Grover." Annabeth looked back to the Farmer. "What can you tell us about Lydia's ship?"

"It's bigger than Ermis'…" he stuttered. "Only one set of oars… It was in relatively good shape, you know? A lot of the other ships were torn up… something had gotten to them. I don't remember all that much after Lydia showed up… but after they kicked Goliath I broke out of it…"

"It would be helpful to know what her level is," interrupted Annabeth. "For there to be that high of an imbalance in Soul—it could just be her Class, but maybe not. What did you say it was?"

"A Wrangler…"

Curious. A Wrangler was a classed form of Mage, geared specifically towards the handling of large and vicious monsters. Annabeth had studied their use in the Battle of Plataea, where the Persian forces had been flanked by Spartan Hellhounds and Tegean Gryphons. For a Wrangler to resort to almost pedestrian smuggling meant that they'd fallen on hard times. It made sense that her Soul was high… but was the gap large enough for her will to affect Percy and Annabeth as well?

"We'll have to be careful," was all she said. "You're sure that the ship only contained animals? Wranglers are capable of leashing even monsters to their will."

"I think I saw a lion with white fur… and there was a horned creature—not a goat, but something else. And there was something in the back, with red feathers… it smelled really bad..."

"Anything else?" Grover frowned.

"A sword. It was on a display… Percy—I think it was made out of the same stuff as your knife? I don't know why they'd want to keep it around if it doesn't do anything…"

"Ma Dia. What you mean to say is that this Lydia has a celestial bronze sword aboard her ship. Presumably, for taking down monsters if they get out of hand—she's not a Warrior, so that must be why it's on the wall. There's little use for it when she can take down most smaller threats with just her voice."

"You said that my knife was worth… a lot," said Percy. "If that's the case, then how valuable is that sword?"

Annabeth smiled. It was a good question, and certainly relevant to the discussion at hand.

"Maybe enough to buy a ship, on its own. Depends on the size and the quality—the reason why a fully formed weapon is so valuable is because we don't have the methods to reshape what the gods give us. Hephaestus only throws away work that he isn't happy with. But what use is a hoe, or even a hammered sheet, against a gryphon?" She drew aside the slanted cut of her chiton, letting them see the scabbard strapped to her right leg. Sheathed into it were twelve needles, each of varying sizes. The largest was the length of thirteen daktyli, beginning at the upper thigh and ending just before the knee.

Grover blushed, right down to the roots of his curly brown hair. Percy ducked his gaze to the side.

"The point," stressed Annabeth, feeling suddenly self-conscious, "—is that the rest of us make do. So if we need a boat, or enough money to buy one, our options aren't as limited. We can steal Lydia's ship, her sword, or preferably both."

"And we have to rescue Obelix," reminded Percy. "So what are our plans for that?"

"We'll have to go to the docks. I need to see what we're dealing with firsthand to calculate our chances of success. But I do have an idea…"

ANNABETH

Lvl. 18 Saboteur

Aspects

Mind: 68

Body: 60

Breath: 41

Soul: 39

Arcana: 36

A/N: Hello one and all. I have the pleasure of writing all of the Annabeth POV chapters, so I hope that I've done her character justice. Writing characters that are smarter than you is quite difficult. All I can say is that Annabeth has her own share of interesting experiences (to be explored at a later date), and that we have spent quite a while thinking them up. Keep reading, and stay curious!

—Bibleo (Curious_Teacup)