A/N: Nobody likes the chapter selector. Piss off Odysseus, not talking about you.
That's a high tier joke for you nerds out there.
I never know when this bit is long enough to dodge the chapter selector.

—Pincoat

ϛ

ANNABETH
Lvl. 19 Saboteur

By the time Kleo made it out of the Gulf of Korinth, she could barely be called a ship. Sure, it still looked like one—but it was letting in water like a sieve, and even Percy's patchwork attempts wouldn't keep it afloat any longer. The belowdecks was already half-submerged, and the top deck was becoming rather crowded. Between the lion, the not-deer, and Grover's pets, there was barely any space for the humans.

But Percy still stood at the helm undistracted, and if Annabeth didn't know any better, she'd have thought him to be a living statue. No man could be that resilient—not after a full night of solid sailing.

The entire vessel shuddered as they ran ashore. Percy almost fell over as it happened—in fact, he did fall over once the ropes wrapping around the boon fell slack. He blinked up at the sky, dazed.

"We made it, then?"

"Sure we did," said Grover, hauling Percy up by the shoulder. "You were amazing, man—we wouldn't have made it without you."

Ella was perched on the edge of the deck, still flexing her wings where cruel loops of iron had needed to be cut free. She was muttering things to herself. A mix of self-soothing and self-referential chatter… something about the island of Ithaka and the story of Odysseus. Annabeth passed her and leapt down from Kleo, landing softly on the fine white sand of the beach. They'd stopped at something resembling a cove. Rocky bluffs extended into the water to both sides of the ship. They looked to be made of limestone, also white, and cut through with occasional streaks of a darker colour.

Above them were the beginnings of a treeline: thick, green oak and woody cypress—obscured only a little by the sparse underbrush of the bluffs. Annabeth called to Grover as she looked for a way up.

"You said that we needed material to repair the ship?"

The response was a grunt, as Grover fitted the gangplank over Kleo's edge.

"We do. A mix of hard and softwoods, preferably…"

"So you can point out the trees we need to look for?"

"If we find any…" He sounded doubtful. But Annabeth was beginning to realize that the other boy always sounded doubtful, with a habit of clipping his words and trailing off mid-sentence. It happened more often around her than Percy—probably because he was more familiar around the other boy than with Annabeth, who was a relative stranger. But that was okay. Grover could doubt himself all he wanted as long as he delivered results. So long as they understood each other, it would be fine.

"Then we should scout the island. You and me, that is. Percy needs to rest, so we'll leave him with the ship… a weapon too, in case he's attacked."

"He's really tired," fidgeted Grover. "Are you sure that leaving him will be safe?"

"It's better that the both of us go. You'll be able to recognize the materials that we need, and I'll be there to lend a hand. Percy will be safer aboard Kleo; if it comes to it, we can trust him to hold his ground in a fight." Unspoken was the fact that Annabeth didn't extend the same confidence to Grover. The fight with the Skolopendra had proven easily enough that the Farmer was the worst fighter of the group, and the island was uncharted territory. She didn't want him eaten by a wandering monster. "And Percy won't be alone either," she reassured. "Ella is here as well. I'm sure that she's willing to keep watch."

"Ella is here," the harpy called out, in that odd way of hers. "The heroes gave Ella olives. Olives are good for harpies. Olives are on the ship. Ella will stay with Percy on the ship."

"If you're sure…"

"I'm as sure as I can be. Now let's fill Percy in on the plan. Then we can get what we need for the trip and head out."

Grover didn't stop his worrying until they'd made it into the woods—having left Percy with Kleo, almost all of their supplies, and the rest of Grover's herd. The other boy was adamant that he'd be able to guard the ship while they were away, but the passion of his argumentation was cut short by the dark bags underneath his eyes. At least they had Ella, who would be able to wake him up in case of an emergency. When they left, they both carried a stone tablet with some water and food inscribed within. Ithaka wasn't a large island, but it wasn't settled either; travelling the full length of it could take a while.

They'd likely circle back before the sunset—which left them with the better part of the day to explore. Grover, at least, seemed comfortable. As time passed, his stride lengthened into something that could almost be called confident. His staff, topped with the carved head of a ram, moved easily between the roots and rocks of the underbrush.

It was as good a time as any to learn more about the other boy. And Annabeth needed to know more about his motivations. Following Percy into danger was all well and good, but she had to know the certainty of his resolve. Could he be trusted when it came time to cross the Sea of Monsters? It was sure to be more dangerous than the Gulf of Korinth, and they had already faced danger in this first part of the journey.

"Why follow Percy to the Underworld?"

The question caught the other boy off guard. But he didn't shrink from it like he had her other questions on Kleo. This one made him look away and think.

"He's my brother." And upon saying this he suddenly blushed. "Not that Sally is my mother, too—but she's a good woman, and she loves Percy. We all grew up together in the same village… and…" He slowed his walk, "It's not fair that she was taken from him like that."

Of course. It all went back to the initial abduction of Sally. Percy was completely obsessed with reclaiming her. Grover, even now, wore a mask of thoughtful nostalgia as he recalled her. What kind of a woman was Sally, to inspire devotion like that? Losing a parent wasn't an uncommon thing. To death at the end of a long life, or a plague, or even the jaws of a slathering monster. But most people found a way to move on. They didn't start a quest in defiance of one of the gods.

"And is it fair to you?" she asked. "This quest. The hardships of it. You know that we'll be attacked again. That monster in the Gulf of Korinth is only the beginning, and…" She recalled still the scene on the docks when he'd fallen apart like the seams of a burst waterskin. That kind of pain wasn't easily forgotten; it stayed in her mind, even now. "Those smugglers, at the docks. We probably won't run into them again, but there are other ways that your animals might be endangered."

His lips tightened, and she knew at once that he had withdrawn. She didn't push, after that. They walked in silence for a little longer, trekking upwards along a steadily heightening slope.

She caught sight of something at the edge of the treeline, where limestone descended sharply into a cliff—a structure of sorts… possibly another ship? The view was obscured by ferns and brush. She made to point it out to Grover, but the Farmer had already noticed, coming to a tense crouch beside a thick trunk of oak. She frowned, following his lead, and hearing… wingbeats. A dry, leathery flapping sound that was far too heavy for any bird. It passed above them, a misshapen shadow swooping through the underbrush. Annabeth felt dread freeze its way into her very bones. Grover hunched further, knuckles whitening around his staff.

"I smell sea god." It was a screechy voice, female, and reminiscent of nails being dragged across the wrought iron of an executioner's blade. The source was a woman, but unlike any woman that Annabeth had ever seen. She was hunched, hovering just a short distance ahead of them; wrinkled like a salted olive; and large batlike wings sprang out of her back. Written in purple was her name and her class: Megaera, Punisher.

"Of course you smell sea god," snapped a second voice—this one coming from beyond the treeline and just behind the painted hull of the shipwreck. "This entire wreck smells of sea god… but why here? Why now?"

"There must be something on the island." A third voice joined in. This one hovered in the air, making a slow lap along the shore. Her class was the same as the first, but her name—Alekto.

Megaera and Alekto… the other had to be Tisiphone. There was a sickening swoop to Annabeth's stomach as she took in the information. All three of Hades' Erinyes were on the island.

"I smell it," Megaera insisted. "It's here… but not here…"

"Idiot!" screeched Tisiphone, flapping into view. Her whip was drawn, and she cracked it sharply into the air. "This entire island reeks of sea god! It's one of his islands. One of his treasures, dredged from the deep."

Her words didn't make much sense to Annabeth. How was the shipwreck ahead of them some kind of treasure? Looking carefully, she could make out a splintered hull… the mast had broken into two pieces, both jutting out of the sand. It certainly wasn't sailable; the only use it had was for parts.

"Fine," growled Megaera. "I'll look for it myself." She sniffed at the air, like a trained hound searching for a scent. Then her wings flexed, splaying outwards as she came to a jerky landing on the beach. In a nearly heart-stopping moment of terror, her beady black eyes searched the forest—resting for a long moment at the thicket atop the cliff. Then she began to move closer—half gliding, half striding up the slope.

Annabeth ran.

It wasn't a conscious decision. One moment, she was looking into the eyes of the Fury. The next, she was slipping down the broad back of the cliff, away from the old woman and her hateful eyes. Thoughts spilt together in a muddle of colour and emotion. There was the mottled green of the underbrush, the hardened press of earth and rock along the ground, and the swift descent. She had to be quiet. She had to be small, and silent, and unimportant—just a shadow in the rustling woods dotted along the island.

She'd been so long without a companion that the thought of Grover hadn't even crossed her mind until she heard a screech and the snapping of branches behind her. The Erinys had given chase, half leaping and half flying through the trees. But it wasn't shrieking for her. She heard it now—a snatch of the words, carried across by a fickle breeze.

"Crazy bat lady!"

Grover was behind her. Not that far behind her, which spoke well of his ability to traverse the woods. If the situation wasn't this dire, Annabeth might have been impressed. But that left her only a handful of seconds before the Erinys caught up. Probability of Success told her that the most likely outcome of stopping to fight was death for all involved; if she wasn't careful, then the Erinys would get away, and alert its other sisters. If they hid, then the Erinys would continue its course to the south side of the island and find Percy.

In the end, the panicked Farmer made it all the way to the heart of the island before the Erinys finally caught up. Megaera had given up the pursuit from amidst the trees; relying on scent along, she had guessed his most probable location. Shrieking with glee, her dive down into the underbrush pinned Grover against a tree. His staff was torn loose and spun away into a cluster of boulders.

At this moment, it was very probable that he would die. Another moment and the Erinys would have raised its razor-sharp claws to his throat.

But it wasn't the likeliest outcome.

Annabeth leapt down. It was a move that was almost reminiscent of the Erinys' earlier dive, but deadlier by an order of magnitude. For where Maegara had needed to immobilize her prey first, Annabeth knew exactly where the claws and ire of the Erinys were directed. She drove the point of her largest needle directly into its neck.

It sunk in deeply enough to be fatal, but not with enough force to propel the celestial bronze all the way through. That was just as well for Grover. Annabeth was able to pin the majority of her downward force on the Fury; even as it exploded into golden dust, there wasn't enough momentum to pitch her onto the Farmer.

Annabeth fell back to her haunches, breathing heavily.

Grover was much less composed.

"You left me!"

"It was a tactical retreat," argued Annabeth. "We were too close to the others. They would have noticed. And—"

"That doesn't change the fact that you left me!"

It was perhaps the most assertive thing that Grover had ever managed to say in Annabeth's presence. And it was true, though she wasn't ready to admit it just yet. When the Erinys had started in their direction, Annabeth had forgotten that the other boy was even there. It was like she was fourteen all over again; running headlong into the woods as the lumbering cyklops closed the distance.

She'd been saved then. Now she was doing the saving.

Annabeth didn't answer Grover's accusations. Maegara had disappeared into a cloud of golden dust, but that didn't mean that she hadn't left anything behind. On the ground was a bit of cloth parcel and a single golden drachma. She pocketed the parcel first. Ambrosia was an incredibly valuable medicine, especially for anyone who was in the business of hero work.

Grover watched her tuck away the drops, mouth agape.

"This is what's important right now?"

"We need to leave," Annabeth deflected. "The other Furies will be coming soon, and they'll get to Percy unless we stop them."

That seemed to refocus his attention.

"What do you mean they'll get to Percy?"

"That they'll find him and kill him. Now come on." Annabeth kicked up Grover's staff and offered it back to him. Guided by Probability of Success, she knew that the best course of action was to replicate the victory they'd had with Maegara. A direct fight was suicide. Ambush tactics were their best way to take down the remaining Erinyes. "I'll need your help if we're going to kill them first."

Grover took up the staff. The hurt from her earlier abandonment still hadn't left his face.

"What do you have in mind?"

The next Erinys, Tisiphone, wore the tattered remnants of a blood-red chiton; tied to her waist with a dried and long-dead snake. She was drawn in by the sounds of falling branches and rustling leaves, leading her out west.

In reality, they were noise traps, quickly constructed from Grover's knowledge of bushcraft. When it was clear that this Erinys had parted ways from its sister, Grover made his presence known; hurtling through the brush and letting the Erinys give chase.

This time, the positioning wasn't quite as fortunate; rather than piercing the bat-winged woman directly in the neck, Annabeth's needle found its way between the shoulders. Tisiphone screeched and threw its wings back. They buffeted Annabeth from either side, leathery flaps unable to reach her, but enough of a distraction that she struggled with letting go.

If she could free a hand, and reach for another needle, then she would have a second chance at making a lethal jab to the Erinys' neck. But even freeing one hand would put her at risk of being thrown off. The old woman was wildly bucking underneath Annabeth's hold, trying to fly up and cast her off at the same time.

With all of the leaves and foliage blurring into a single colour, Annabeth was having a hard time keeping track of her surroundings. It wasn't until Grover yelled, "Let go!" from just behind her, that she realized just how close he'd gotten.

Annabeth let go, falling back and skidding heavily into the grass.

Grover, with the Erinys' back wide open to attack, lifted his staff like a club and swung.

The thickest part of the staff—the carved ram's head, landed directly on the pommel of Annabeth's discarded needle. It was driven forward with such force that the entire length of it disappeared into the screeching Erinys' back.

That was enough to be lethal. The second Erinys exploded into dust.

From its remains, they collected a handful of golden drachmae.

Still shaking loose the grass from her chiton, Annabeth looked up to Grover and smiled.

"You're not so bad at fighting after all."

"Well…" The stammer was back. "I-I don't like it; if that's what you mean."

"Lucky us. You only need to keep this up for another round." He made a face. Annabeth clapped him over the shoulder. "You've killed a Fury," she said. "That's hardly a small accomplishment. There's just the last one to take care of, now."

"If you say so…"

Alekto was the last. And accordingly, she also put up the most fight. Wary of the disappearance of her two other sisters, the final Erinys was far more wily to Grover's false chase. When Annabeth readied her ambush and sprang down from the trees, Alekto was ready.

She turned, wings flared and threw Annabeth off with a strength disproportionate to her old wizened arms. Annabeth's momentum was halted by the trunk of a woody cypress. Every bit of breath left her lungs all at once. Her needle spun loose from numbed fingers and went flying into the brush.

Alekto didn't stop there. She'd clearly decided that Annabeth was the greater threat.

She advanced, swifter than Grover could give chase.

Annabeth gasped like a fish, trying to reach for another dagger, but the Erinys wouldn't have it. She took hold of Annabeth's knife arm, pinning it against the flat of the trunk. Cruelty glittered like live beetles in her eyes, and she crooned.

"None of that, dearie."

Alekto pressed. Hard. There was a dull snap, and a sudden burning pain as something in Annabeth's forearm gave. She screamed. The Erinys was delighting in the pain, grip unflinching.

It was that distraction that gave Grover the opportunity to sneak up on her from behind. The end of his staff whistled through the air, a scream of its own, and whacked against the Erinys' head so hard that it drew blood. Alekto's eyes went empty with shock, but every attempt by Annabeth to shimmy out of the Erinys' grasp jolted fresh pain in her broken arm.

She wouldn't be able to escape, not like this.

So Annabeth gritted her teeth against the pain, drew a fresh needle with her left hand, and drove it directly into the Erinys' eye.

There wasn't as much force behind it as she would've wished, but her grip was sound, and her aim true.

The Punisher burst into sand. Annabeth had to blink it out of her eyes, trying to shake it off of her face. When her vision cleared, Grover was still standing above her, staff still upraised into the air.

He stared at her, unsure of himself as she struggled to sit up against the trunk of the cypress.

"Just… check for drops," said Annabeth, feeling far too tired to elaborate on her words. It was difficult, getting out the square of ambrosia from her purse with only one hand; harder still, to unwrap it and slice off a corner with the blade of her mortal knife.

Grover came up with a snake-headed rhyton—a lidded bronze container that probably contained nectar.

"Do you need help?" he asked, as she popped the triangle of ambrosia into her mouth. The taste reminded her of honey drizzled figs, which she remembered fondly from her childhood in Athens, and then later, as a lucky find and a shared snack on the road.

Warmth enveloped her arm. It hadn't healed fully, and probably wouldn't until the end of the day, but the pain faded. Tension, which she hadn't even noticed up until that point, fled from her body. She wrapped up the remaining ambrosia in its original cloth.

"I'll be alright," she told Grover, as he helped her up to her feet. "It'll heal."

"Because you ate that thing?" he asked.

"I forget how little you and Percy know sometimes," she sighed, before explaining. "Ambrosia, and nectar; they're very rare drops. The food and drink of the gods, really. Heroes consume it to heal injuries. In larger cities, there are doctors that use it as medicine." She moved her still-healing arm gingerly. "Very, very expensive medicine, that is."

"… I think I've heard of it." Grover straightened and held up the ceremonial cup. "So this…"

"Probably nectar," Annabeth confirmed. "Not so easy to contain as ambrosia; you'd better keep ahold of it, just in case we run into any more trouble."

"Maybe we can help Ella." He brightened.

"… Right." Annabeth steadied herself and squinted up at the sky. The sun was just about finished with its arc. It would be touching down on the horizon soon. "Let's just get back to Kleo. No more resource gathering expeditions today."

"If you say so." He cast one last questioning glance at her arm. "Think you can keep up?"

Annabeth rolled her eyes.

"There's no need to wait on me."

Percy was sound asleep by the time that Annabeth made the harrowing trek down the cliff face and back onto the soft white sands where the Kleo had run aground. He drooled, too. It wasn't a great look for a person whose chiton was already splattered with oil.

But he woke when Annabeth and Grover roused him and listened as Annabeth recalled their exploration to the north end of the island and the subsequent fight with the Erinyes.

"There was a shipwreck," she said. "We didn't get a close look at it, but there should be plenty of material that we can use to recover the Kleo."

Percy yawned.

"Sorry I wasn't there to help."

"You got us all the way to Ithaka. You deserve the rest." Grover was making a face as he chewed on flatbread. "Maybe we should start a fire while we're still on land."

"You do that," said Annabeth. "I'll… take stock of things. We should each carry some ambrosia with us from now on. And some drachmae as well."

She made her way to the mast, where all of the below decks provisions had been moved. The animals had been given free rein on the beach, so the top deck wasn't as crowded as she remembered. Ella was perched by the railing.

"Ella has kept watch," she said, very matter-of-fact. "Are there olives now?"

"Sure. You can ask Grover for the rest."

She sat down against the mast and laid out all of the spoils from the past few days worth of fights. The golden drachmae from the Erinyes, and the square of ambrosia. The Skolopendra hadn't dropped anything as immediately helpful as the nectar and ambrosia. Grover's sea turtle had brought back a celestial bronze discus with a diameter as long as her arm, various fastenings, and a few large plates of its pinkish carapace. They hadn't found much of a use for any of it yet, but there was a potential for repurposing the hard shell into armour or making the discus into a shield.

Annabeth sighed. The Erinyes hadn't dropped much in comparison.

"Ella," she said. "We have a little ambrosia now. Will taking any help you get better?"

"Ella is a harpy. Ambrosia is very good for harpies. Ambrosia and olives! Ella's friends are good to her."

"Yeah." Annabeth picked up one of the more curved pieces of the Skolopendra's carapace, kept the ambrosia, and waved at the harpy to follow.

"Let's go down to the beach," she said. "We're having dinner together. Might as well see if we can put one of these plates to use as cookware."

Almost as if in response to her words, the piece of the carapace in her hands transformed into a shallow bottomed kylix, two handles stretching out on either end. Annabeth stared.

It was true that monster spoils sometimes changed form to suit the one who had won them, but this was a bit ridiculous. It couldn't have transformed into armour all the times she was thinking about using it for armour?

"… Let's just go," she said. "Percy and Grover will definitely want to see this."

It took them two days—going back and forth across the island to scavenge the parts needed to fix the Kleo. In that time, the animals were doing a lot better; both the not-deer and the lion accompanying Annabeth, Percy, and Grover on their trips across the island.

It wasn't until Percy and Grover had put the last plank in place that any thought of the shipwreck being magical occurred to Annabeth. Each one of Kleo's twenty oars swivelled in place, slow and synchronous, like a great beast taking a stretch after a long time asleep. It was like the legs of the Skolopendra—but less spindly, and far more benign.

"Was it… supposed to do that?" asked Grover.

"… 'Sea god'," recalled Annabeth. "The Furies were talking about Poseidon. Do you think that shipwreck was one of his treasures?"

"How many magical shipwrecks are there?" Percy was staring oddly at Kleo, probably not used to ships having any kind of autonomy.

Ella, who had recovered the use of her wings, fluttered down onto the boon excitedly.

"Argus, by Athena's advice, built a ship of fifty oars named Argo after its builder… at the mountain Pelion, much larger in every respect than was usual in those times… Everyone, therefore, at the sight of the vessel, was amazed."

"That's weird," muttered Grover. "But maybe helpful?"

"The Argo of old was able to issue prophecies," Annabeth pointed out. "But it looks like Kleo hasn't started talking just yet."

"We'll know when she does," Percy shrugged. "All I know is that we're ready to sail. We should leave as soon as possible."

They left on a cloudless day, with the sun bearing down on their heads. All of the captive animals were still with them. Ithaka was too small an island to set them loose, but Ella had chosen to say her goodbyes.

"Ella must rejoin her sisters in service to the gods. But Ella will remember Percy, Grover, and Annabeth."

"We'll remember you too!" yelled Grover. And then he took a little time down in the belowdecks to himself, probably to cry over the three red feathers she'd left behind.

Annabeth stood against the mast of Kleo and watched her go: a graceful, reddish shape in the sky.

Would they be anything worth remembering?

ANNABETH

Lvl. 21 Saboteur

Aspects

Mnd: 79

Bdy: 74

Brh: 51

Sol: 43

Rkn: 42

Passive: The Mind-Body Paradigm

A keen Strategist does not neglect to train her body along with her mind.

Skills

Probability of Success: Foresight honed over years is what separates the clever from the great.

Deliberate Feint: The art of warfare is a practice in deception.

Structural Assessment: Everything has a weakness. If one can find it, they hold the key to countless battles.

Glossary

Alekto — Punisher of moral crimes such as anger.

Ambrosia — A food eaten by the gods; In small quantities, it can miraculously heal wounds but too much will cause more harm than good.

Chiton — A long cut of fabric pinned as unisex clothing in Ancient Greece.

Cyklops — Singular form of Cyklopes: One-eyed giants whose strength was matched only by their ugliness.

Erinys — Singular form of Erinyes: Colloquially called the Furies; The three sisters were spirits of vengeance and served as Hades' chief enforcers.

Golden Drachma — Large golden coins; Currency of the divine.

Megaera — Punisher of infidelity, oathbreakers, and theft.

Nectar — A drink imbibed by the gods; In small quantities, it can miraculously heal wounds but too much will burn through mortals like wildfire.

Rhyton — Ceramic cup; Typically sculpted after an animal; Often used for ceremonies like libation (offering drinks to the gods).

Skolopendra — The Largest of the Sea-Monsters; Child of Keto and Phorkys.

Tisiphone — Punisher of murderers.

A/N: There's no Author's Note today since Bibleo was unavailable when we posted, but on her behalf, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Cheers, all.

—Pincoat