Chapter Seventeen

Percy missed his farm. There had been a simplicity to that life that he had been able to enjoy immensely. For one, no one died whenever he went about his work—usually—and he didn't have to deal with the petty squabbling of warlords, princes, and kings. Back home, when he woke up in the morning, he was able to simply enjoy the morning sun before he started working on his crops. Now, the moment he stepped foot outside his tent, there was someone, somewhere, that needed his attention, whether it was to make a decision or settle a dispute, there was always somewhere to be. Peace was a concept that had become foreign to him.

Worse still, it was by choice.

Before, all strategic decisions had been made in Agamemnon's tent, a sign of the Mycenaean King's authority. For the past half-year, however, since Percy returned Cassandra to Troy, he had held them in the Agora, in view for all to see. Oh, some of the kings and princes hated it—because they knew that they couldn't get away with making stupid suggestions in front of everyone, and so they were forced to keep silent. Others, like Diomedes, Menelaus, and Odysseus had the time of their lives, strategizing for hours.

Sometimes, however, no one seemed able to accomplish anything. The meeting Percy was currently barely refraining from slaughtering everyone in had to do with Aeneas' home of Dardania. The young king had managed to prevent every attempt at conquering or sacking his lands, and while some of the others suspected divine intervention, Percy knew better—Aeneas was simply that good. But by keeping his lands practically untouched by the war, he had been able to ease Troy's burden, and each year, new fighting men came of age. It wasn't enough to prevent Troy's inevitable fall, but it did keep delaying it. Enough that Percy had decided action needed to be taken. He had hoped that the mortals would be able to come a decision themselves, but it seemed that was unlikely.

"Dardania needs to fall." Percy spoke up, interrupting some king from some city-state in the Peloponnese. The man's eyes flashed with anger, but he wisely kept silent. "Small raiding parties will not be enough. Substantial force will be required. That will, however, weaken our position here, so whomever remains needs to be capable of withstanding whatever the Trojans throw at them. I suggest the Myrmidons, Laconians, and Mycenaean contingents defend the beachhead, under my command. Diomedes will lead the rest of the forces into Dardania, where we will conduct a prolonged raid. Burn the fields, raze the towns, and sack the capital. If the Trojans attempt to shift forces away to counter this, we will engage them on the plains."

"Seven thousand men against the might of Troy?" Odysseus cocked an eyebrow.

"Seven thousand Myrmidons, Laconians, and Mycenaeans," he corrected. "Some of the best trained and best equipped warriors in this entire expedition. That leaves Diomedes with eight thousand to do with as he will."

"An extended raid?" The king in question leaned forward. "No restrictions?"

"At this point, I don't care," Percy said as bluntly as possible. "I don't care if you return with the entire population of Dardania enslaved, so long as the land is ruined. I don't care if you soak the land with the blood of every soul there, as long as it is ruined. I want stories to be told of the death of Dardania for eons to come, and I want Diomedes to be the name they whisper when they talk of it happening again to them again. Do we understand one another?"

"We do," the king nodded with a grin. "I will not fail you."

"Good. You have three weeks to prepare. That is when the New Moon is coming, and there is no better time to leave than under near-complete darkness." He told them. "Keep your men silent and well-behaved. If I find out this plan has been leaked, I'll start killing and I won't stop until I find the source. Am I clear?"

"Crystal, Perseus," Agamemnon nodded. "We will see it done."

"See that you do," Percy replied, before rising. "I'm needed on Mount Ida to deal with something, so I may not return for several days, depending on how large a headache the godlings decide to give me. Antilochus is in charge of the defence until my return."

The Prince of Pylos bowed his head in respect, and thankfully, there were no grumblings. Amongst his many other policies, Percy had begun rotating who was placed in command of the camp when he departed, rather than constantly leaving it in the hands of a small group of men. Of course, he only picked the competent men, but those who were not had yet to catch on—hence why they were not being selected.

He rose from his seat, and that was the invitation for the others to do the same. A long series of unwritten rules had developed in the months since Percy had assumed total command, but one of the chief rules was that no one sat in Percy's presence if he were standing. He wasn't entirely sure where, why, or how it had started, but it was interesting to observe, at the very least. So too was the way it travelled down the hierarchy. When Agamemnon met with his officers, they all stood until he sat. When those officers met with their lieutenants, the same. So on and so forth down the totem pole. It was just the Mycenaeans, either. Athenians, Lacedaemonians, Pylosians, near everyone but the Myrmidons, Argives, and Ithacans, who still treated their respective leaders as first among equals. He doubted it would last long, though. If nothing else, this war would solidify certain dynasties as the ruling caste of their respective kingdoms for generations to come, whether they lived through it or not.

By the time the war ended, some things would be so entrenched that it would take centuries to dislodge. Nothing motivated people to adapt to new traditions more than seeing battle hardened soldiers follow them almost religiously. Society was superstitious and cautious when it came to rituals. Doubly so when the men performing them wouldn't hesitate to strike a person down for not following their actions.

How much of it would be Percy's fault, he wondered, and how much of it would be the natural evolution of societal norms? It was impossible to say. The Greeks had always been an independent people, but the empires of the east were very much structured an hierarchical. Autocracy may temporarily take hold, but when a big enough disaster happened—and it was always bound to—people would once again take control. Not universally, and not always successfully, but they would.

A sharp whistled summoned a mare over, men scrambling out of her way, and he mounted her with ease, pressing his knees into her side to maintain balance.

"I should be back before the new week," he told the assembled men. "If not…well, I would be worried about whatever it is that can delay me."

He turned the mare around and kicked off into a gallop. Mount Ida loomed large in the distance, and so too did the potential interactions that were going to take place there.

XXX

The air around Mount Ida was oppressively thick, and Percy's horse had tried to buck him before they even got close—it took a lot of power to do that, and so he had let the mare go without punishment, and continued the rest of the way on foot, past the bare trees and the running brooks until he reached the bare peak of the mountain. The presences at the top were familiar to him—he had been there when they were all born, after all.

Artemis, Apollo, Ares, Aphrodite, Athena, even Hermes. The oppressive feeling? That was their rage. And it was all directed at him. How…quaint.

"You all know that this isn't going to work, yes?" He asked them as he approached. "You can hack away at me, strike me with godly energy, chain me and lock me in a tomb for centuries, and it won't matter. One way or another, I'll survive, and I'll remember."

"Hundreds of priests, Percy," Hermes said quietly. "Most of mine weren't even in the temples—they were tending to way shrines and rest-houses along the roads."

"I cannot stress enough how little I care." Percy said bluntly. "I've been warning you all for years that if you kept interfering I would respond, and now that I have, you all seem surprised. And yet…I only attacked your priests. I left your children and grandchildren alone. I didn't go anywhere near your lovers and spouses—though that term is laughable with you lot—unless, of course, they were part of your priesthood. So go ahead. Attack me. You'll likely win—there's six of you here, after all. I reckon at least two of you will end up in the Pit before you beat me, however."

"We didn't want it to come to this, Percy," Artemis replied, drawing her knives. "You've forced our hands."

"I've forced your hands?" He scoffed. "Gaea's tits, you really are incapable of recognising the consequences of your own actions. Eight years I've been warning you all. Eight years of minimal punishments and lessons. The one time I make a statement, and you claim that I forced your hands? Unbelievable."

"If you'd just stayed out of the war, this wouldn't be an issue!" Aphrodite whined at him. "No one was planning on holding you to your oath. No one would have cared if you'd just stepped aside and let the mortals handle it. But you had to come here and fight! How else were we supposed to protect our children?"

"I—are you really that stupid?"

"What?"

"You think I came here to kill your children? How many demigods have I killed in this war? Anyone?"

"Three." Athena answered quietly. "One of mine, one of father's, and one of Ares. All of them challenged you."

"Three." He confirmed. "Never by choice. Your children were safe from me. I've never wanted them dead. But if you insist, Aphrodite, I can start seeking them out. And if my oaths truly mean so little to you, then I'm sure you won't mind when I track Paris down and pull his heart through his throat before gifting it to Helen. After all, no one would hold me to my oaths."

"Just take the beating, Percy," Ares pleaded. "It doesn't have to be a fight."

"No," a new, deep, and rumbling voice added. "It is not going to be a fight."

His father was standing behind him, leaning against his trident, resplendent in his full battle armour. Triton was beside him, twirling a sword in his hand. And on his left, a thunderous and troubling expression that Percy hadn't seen for thousands of years, was Zeus. His fingers were twitching on the Master Bolt, and his eyes scanned between each of his children.

"You were warned." He said. "I told you to leave the matter be. That Perseus was beyond reproach, and beyond you. Did you think I solely meant that he was too powerful? That he could take you all on at once? Not even he would claim so. But he can make you bleed, and he can send you somewhere I do not wish to see you go. You are my children. I love you all. But my relationship with Perseus is older and deeper than any of you can begin to understand. Do you think it is a mistake that he is called the Firstborn of the Gods? Do you think that I would allow someone to claim such kinship with me if I did not believe it? Did you believe that your little ambush would not be found out? That all of you were in unanimous agreement on striking at him?"

"Someone betrayed us?"

"Two people betrayed you," Poseidon laughed. "Separately, too. I was approached, and Zeus was approached. Apollo was not as convincing as he believed himself to be."

Interesting. Percy studied those present amongst the group. Athena was being oddly insular. She was likely the one who approached his father—no one would have believed it if they heard it, which made her the obvious candidate. But the other…that was a true mystery. All the rest seemed eager for revenge. Unless…unless the one who betrayed them was not a member of the group that came to confront him. A god who often heard but was not heard. Powerful, but not considered to be one of them yet.

Dionysus had escaped punishment because he did not care about the war. But Percy had warned him that what he had done to the others, he could easily have done to him. And to a young god, a threat like that would be terrifying, especially when those older and more powerful could do nothing in the face of it.

"Let it be," Percy turned to his uncle. "They know better now. If they come at me again, then I'll put as many of them down as I can. Otherwise, let them keep playing their games and plotting their revenge. It bothers me not."

"They went against my word, Perseus." Zeus protested.

"They've been going against your word, uncle, that's not new. But this is the first time they've seen that you might actually back up your threats against them. Let them know it is a possibility. Let it be a lesson. There's no need to make it a punishment." He glanced over at Apollo, offering him a smirk. "Yet."

"Very well," Zeus sighed. "Return to Olympus. Regardless of escaping punishment, you are not escaping your duties. We have a matter in the west to discuss."

"How far west?" Percy asked.

"Far." Was all Zeus told him in response. With a final glare, he flashed away.

One by one, the rest of the Olympians followed, until it was just Percy, his father, brother, and Athena.

"I haven't forgiven you," she told him quietly. "But I don't hate you."

And then, she was gone.

"Thank you," Percy turned to Poseidon and Triton. "For coming to stand by me."

"Anytime, brother," Triton clasped his arm. "Plus, I don't think Pallas would forgive me if I didn't."

"You are my son, Percy." Poseidon told him. "We have our differences at times, I know, but I will always fight for you. Even when you do not ask, even when you do not want me to. That is what family stands for."

His father placed his hand on his shoulder.

"You will not like hearing this, but this war is changing you, and not for the better. I wish that it was not. I wish that you would take a step back and allow yourself time to heal, but I know that you will not. All I ask is that when this is done, you do not remain. Go north. Heal. Avoid us as long as you need to. When the time is right, and you are ready, come back."

"I'll take that under advisement." He replied. "But I don't always have a choice."

Poseidon smiled at him sadly, and then, he too was gone. Percy was left alone on Mount Ida, only the wind as his company. He found that he did not mind it.

MMXXII

So sorry that this chapter is late, I was kicked in the face by life and the muse fled my body. I'm also sorry that this chapter is on the shorter end, but I still don't really have it in me to write more than this. This is really a filler as we get to the end game stuff. My plan is to wrap this story up in the next couple of chapters. My hope is that by the time I've finished this story, my life is a bit more settled, and I'm in a place where I can really focus on my writing, but if I'm going to be honest, that may not be the case. I'm moving out of my house and into an apartment in August, and starting at a new university, and it's very likely that the amount of free time I have will shrink dramatically. At the moment, my plan is to finish Firstborn and then put all my focus onto Imperator. Hopefully I can have Parabellum finished by the end of the year.

I have a discord! The code is aQyrha34Pu

Cheers, CombatTombat