Melita, 176 BC
It had been forty years since the people of the island had assisted the Romans seize control of their home. For forty years they had been loyal subjects of the Republic. For forty years they had denied their Phoenician and Carthaginian heritage and submitted themselves to the Romans. They had seen the writing on the wall well before the Carthaginians in Africa. Rome would defeat them, Melita merely wanted to survive, so they had thrown in their lot with the Romans. There had been no other power capable of protecting them. The Seleucids and the Pontic Kingdom were too far away to support them. But then the Roman invasion of Greece had occurred.
The people of Melita did not know every detail of the battle of Thermopylae. But as famous as King Leonidas and his three hundred Spartans had been for delaying the god-king Xerxes, King Perseus and his defeat of both the Roman legions AND the Titans' army had exceeded him. Within months of the Son of Poseidon's victory he had first defeated the Seleucids in Asia Minor with the help of the Kingdom of Pergamum. Several years later the King of Pergamum betrayed the Greek king to the King of Cappadocia. In response Greek armies had killed both. The crown prince of Cappadocia was crowned in his father's place and subjugated as a client state, Pergamum was punished for their betrayal and their existence as an autonomous state ended. Two years later the people of Cyrenaica had invited the King of Greece to rule over them, believing him preferrable to the Ptolemaic pharaoh of Egypt.
The Greeks, the "true Greeks" as many believed them, had extended their reach from their homeland. From their homelands in Attica and the Peloponnese they had initially slowly expanded into the Aegean Islands, Ionia, and Boeotia. The rapid expansion since their defeat of Rome had rarely been their choice. They had been invited into territory, whether by true invitation or by war. At least that is how the Greek traders who sheltered in the ports of Melita described the Greek rise in power. The people of Melita did not care how the Greeks rose, what they cared about was that the King of Greece did not mandate his subjects lives. He let them live as they saw fit, within a moral code he had published to all under his rule.
One century of the 14th Legion garrisoned the island. Eighty men of Legio XXIV reported to the tax collector of the main port. Their centurion was a young man of a somewhat wealthy family from Capernaum. A sixth son, he had been dutifully named Sextus Aquius. He had also fallen madly in love with Julia, daughter of the largest farmer on the island and devout hater of Rome. Her father knew what it would take to put the centurion at ease. Julia, dutiful daughter and inheritor of his hatred of Rome, did as instructed. As many of the soldiers were attending a banquet thrown by her father, she guided Sextus into her chambers. He closed the door behind him. Knowing he was looking at her, Julia pulled at the shoulders of her garment and it fell to the floor.
She dropped to her knees before him. Even before her touch she could see him reacting to her proximity alone. She pulled at his garments to move them to the side. Sextus undid his weapons and armor and they fell to the floor. Wide eyed he looked down on her as her head moved back and forth near his waist. He did not know how to react as a feeling he had never known swept over him. His face tilted toward the ceiling as his mouth hung open in pants of pleasure. Doing so exposed his throat.
Quick as a viper, Julia struck. The pugio that had fallen to his floor with his armor sliced across his throat. A wave of arterial blood covered Julia's naked body. Sextus attempted to cry out as he slumped to the floor but only a quiet gurgle emitted. Outside she could hear men falling as the poison her father had placed in the wine took effect. She drew the gladius from its sheath. The centurion had landed on his knees with his head tilted back. Julia took the sword in both hands and swung it. The blade severed the head and it rolled upon the floor. She lifted it by Sextus' blond hair and walked to the door. She flung it open and still clad in the Roman's blood alone she held the severed head high for the islanders to see. Three days before they had sent word to Athens, they had asked for the Greek king's support in their rebellion against their Roman oppressors. Regardless of his answer, the rebellion had started.
Bithynia, Asia Minor, 176 BC
I should have known that peace is an elusive thing, thought Percy Jackson. Before him lay the dead and dying of yet another battle. The Kingdom of Bithynia had pleaded for his help. Their state sat between his lands and those of Pontus. The Pontic king had stated he would attack Percy's Greece and told the Bithynians to stand aside. The king there would not watch his lands become a thoroughfare and asked for Greek support in stopping the invasion. Percy personally led the fifteen thousand soldiers into Bithynia. Forty-five thousand soldiers still patrolled the Greek lands and the client state in Cappadocia.
Sixty thousand soldiers in Asia Minor alone, he thought bitterly. He had truly hoped that the first war with Rome would be the end of his need for standing armies. It was not the case. Another fifty-five thousand soldiers were spread across Greece and Cyrenaica. He had transferred Miltiades to Cyrenaica to serve as his governor there and he would admit, he shed a tear as he watched Miltiades wife and son, his daughter and grandson, board a ship to join Miltiades. Annabeth was supposed to be joining them with their son, Demosthenes.
Zoë, daughter of he and Hippolyte, was governing Athens in his absence. She was far older than he wanted to admit. Twenty-eight, he thought. How the fuck is she twenty-eight? Thalia was on a mission north with the Scythian warrior who had joined his court. Andromache was a horsewoman of unmatched skill and ability. She had journeyed to Athens because of the stories of his court, that he treated men and women with equal respect and loyalty. It was a part of her culture as well, but she also would admit in no one's system was it perfect. The onyx eyed daughter was on a mission for him that few knew about.
I can't protect them forever. He thought gravely. The King of Bithynia had no sons to take over his throne. In Percy's mind, he was too chauvinist to give his daughter the lessons necessary to rule after he was gone and he was now relying more and more on Percy's Greeks to fight his wars. Percy knew he could not abandon the rich inner plains of Anatolia to Pontus. He also had watched enough news in his old world to have seen never ending wars and did not want to see it in this world as well.
Percy groaned as he pulled himself onto his horse. Gods I'm old, he had just turned fifty. Advisors, and his wife, told him he should no longer be leading men into battle personally. He had told the advisors "Fuck off" he had told his wife the conciliatory "I'll consider the recommendation." Of all his children, he dreaded the effect his aging would have on Zoë most. Thalia, Phoebe, and Zoë Nightshade understood better having watched him age for years prior to this life. Demosthenes was far to level headed and like his mother to not recognize that the Son of Poseidon was slowing down in some aspects of his life. No, Zoë worried him. He had never not been there, she could not remember her time with the Amazons, she only remembered him. Patér had never not taken care of her, but I can't forever. He admitted to himself and wheeled the horse toward the area where Greek casualties were being gathered.
Roman Macedon, near Thrace, 176 BC
Thalia rolled over and her blue eyes met the sharp brown eyes of Andromache of Scythia. The woman was three years junior to Thalia. Beneath the blanket they were unclothed. Thalia's eyes met those of the Scythian. Gods I love her, she thought.Thalia had understood why Reyna had purposely distanced herself from her following the victory over Iapetus' army. It was no good for a young woman to pine after someone who had aged well beyond her. But she had never felt about anyone the way she felt about Reyna, until meeting Andromache.
The sandy brown haired and dark eyed woman was passionate in a way Thalia could not have comprehended before her. Every breath of life seemed ever more sweet when wrapped in her arms. For every bit of brash force Thalia possessed, lethal grace emanated from Andromache. Andromache raised herself to an elbow and looked at the Daughter of Zeus. It had taken her several years to understand why a woman would deny her godly father and instead claim an adoptive mortal. Then she met King Perseus of Greece. The man had welcomed her to his palace, even as his daughter welcomed her to her bed. Now, because of her connection to Thalia, she was trusted to deliver messages to the King of Thrace.
The messages were sealed, but they knew what they said. They were an overture for alliance. Greece had little reason to be connected with Thrace, one of those reasons was extremely dangerous. The Roman Republic.
Rome, 176 BC
It had taken her nearly twenty days since arriving in Rome to find her position. The blond haired legacy of Apollo was knelt before a shrine with emblems of the Titans etched into it. He did not hear her approach. He did not know she was there until the hunting knife slid across her throat. It is done, father. She thought.
A part of her hated that this was the course of her father's legacy. Another part of her hated that this was what she was doing for her father. Then a third part was disturbingly proud that Percy trusted her for something like this.
Northern Hispania, 176 BC
Frank rubbed his temples. The administration of a military district was much worse than leading legions in the field. He had been assigned Hispania after the successful campaign into Germania with Reyna. She had received the "Home Army" in the new Senate's phrasing and commanded legions within Italia. Meanwhile, he was here.
Hazel and their son were waiting for him in Rome. Reyna had informed the Senate she intended to leave service to the legion the next year, her thirty-second in service. Frank was the next most senior officer and had already been named to succeed her. He welcomed the opportunity to live with his family again. Frank smiled at the thought. He closed his eyes and leaned back.
The smile was still present on his lips when the cord found its rest between his Adam's Apple and chin.
Rome, 176 BC
Reyna looked at the Senators before her. The group of old men did not like her solely because she was a woman. More so they did not like the sway she held over scores of the officers in the Roman legion.
"General," the leader spoke. "I presume the reports out of Melita have reached you."
"Yesh, Shenator, ey have. I have prepared who cohors oo move south."
"No, General." She frowned at them. "You will take a full legion and thirty ships. Make an example of them. Crucifixion, every tenth man. Make the island weep."
"Shenator…" she was cut off.
"That isn't a request, General. Either you execute the orders or we will find someone who will."
She pressed her fist to her chestplate, "Of course, Shenator." Reyna spun and departed. The Senate was slowly turning against the cohort of commanders loyal to her and Frank. It was a shift she and Frank had seen coming. They disliked the connection between them and Perseus. They also seemed to ignore that the only demigods in existence capable of challenging him in power were his adoptive daughter and the reclusive Son of Hades who was currently working with Chiron to train demigods. The only demigod Rome had seen in generations capable of Percy amounts of power was Jason and she doubted that Jason would be able to fully challenge him. So it begins, she thought, They're testing our loyalty to Rome. They expect me to slaughter gods know how many to prove my loyalty to them. And they'll have gods know many of my officers standing by to inform on my decisions.
Port of Piraeus, 176 BC
The unknown ship had been heavily scrutinized as it approached Piraeus. Athenian ships had shadowed it since scouts in Salamis had identified its approach. Within days of its arrival, Zoë had made her decision. Now the Melitan ship led a force of fifty Greek triremes out of Piraeus. As daughter of the king, she had that authority. She believed in her core that it was decision her father would make. Maybe not her mother, but her father would support the people of Melita against their Roman overlords. Not after what they did to Greece. To me. And Patér always helps those in need.