Percy sighed as he picked up his pack, looking around the small room that he had stayed in for the past few days. He left his room, tip-toeing through the small, still-quiet house. Opening the front door, he felt the warm summer morning air blow onto him as he stepped into the already-bustling roads of the town of Serifos. The town was, truthfully, little more than a village by his modern standards, with there only being a resident population of a few hundred people across the entire island. Still, most of the people inhabiting the island were concentrated in the small port area that Percy had originally arrived in, so he had taken to calling the town 'Serifos' and simply referred to everything else as 'the island'.
Greeting the passersby as he had normally did for the past week, Percy soon arrived at the small pier. Even though the sun was barely rising, the pier was busy with fishermen setting out for the day, as well as small-scale construction of boats. At the very end of the pier, Alexis stood alone, smiling and waving when he finally saw Percy approach him.
"Ah, you're up already," Alexis greeted. "I was just about to head back to tell you that I had secured a boat for you."
Percy nodded. "I woke up early today – I should be off, and I don't want to intrude on your hospitality." He paused. "Alexis, I cannot thank you enough for your warm generosity these past few days and for finding a boat for me."
"Nonsense," Alexis grinned, waving the appreciation off. "You worked for the money to buy this boat yourself – I simply made the purchase for you. As for lodging, that is no more than a common courtesy around these parts."
Smiling at the older man, Percy slung his pack into the small boat and then climbed into it himself.
"I have stored some rations and supplies onboard for you," Alexis continued. "Should you find yourself lost, there is a map with notable landmarks written down to guide you back to Serifos. Also, remember this one piece of advice that I can give – you must avoid the open waters around Myrtoan. They are infested with pirates these days."
Percy sat in the boat, one hand on an oar, as he looked at Alexis, lost for words at the other man's thoughtfulness.
"There's no need to thank me," Alexis said, seeing the expression on Percy's face. "You would do me honor by completing what it is you need to do, what you and Elder Chares discussed." He began backing away from the pier. "And if it's possible, I would appreciate it if you could stop by here once more before you return home."
Percy swung both of the oars on either side of the ship. "I will, Alexis." Nodding his good-bye, Percy began rowing, starting slowly as he began to move his arms in synchrony. Percy saw Alexis wave at him but concentrated on rowing. Soon, Alexis became hard to see on the pier, and eventually the whole pier became hard to see on the island of Serifos. Before Percy knew it, even the island was gone. He was well on his way now – on his way to the King of Mycenae, Perseus.
His namesake.
Modern rowers generally topped out around eleven miles an hour while rowing in a high-tech boat designed for maximum speed. Percy was neither a modern Olympian athlete, nor did he have access to the finest boats modern technology had to offer.
However, he was a child of Poseidon, and in the case of rowing on open water, that counted for more than both of the previous factors combined.
In the past, he had sailed Blackbeard's – that is, the son of Ares, Edward Teach's – Queen Anne's Revenge at a brisk ten knots, which was an amply impressive result for an early-seventeenth century sailing vessel. However, with his current small rowing boat, he bested that feat with a far grander sixteen knots – some eighteen miles an hour.
With that, Percy could comfortably say he was making good time to Mycenae. However, in the interest of trimming time, Percy did take a short break to plot the most efficient course through the sea to his destination.
As he chewed on a loaf of bread, Percy took a look at the map that Alexis had stowed away for him. The easiest route would be to continue his path on open water, rowing through the Myrtoan Sea to reach Mycenae. However, given Alexis' only advice regarding his navigation of the Greek seas, he needed to find a different path.
He found only one alternate path – it cut through the top of the Myrtoan Sea to pass in between the mainland of the Peloponnese and a smaller island, Pityoussa. Given the more efficient route, it would actually save him time compared to the easier, but longer open waters route.
Percy rolled up the map as he defiantly bit into the last piece of bread. Even remembering Chronos' words about time, he still felt a measure of dread at the thought of his loved ones and friends one day being in peril. Quickly grabbing the oars again, Percy once more attuned himself with the beat of the seas and rowed in the direction he needed to.
As Percy began to approach Pityoussa, he frowned as he saw dangerous grey clouds in the distance. They covered the narrow strait, and the quiet sound of crackling thunder in the near distance did not bode well for navigation of the strait. Even with Alexis' advice, Percy was unsure of whether he should continue on the alternate path – after all, Alexis hadn't accounted for the possibility of a storm covering the only alternate path to his destination.
He was faced with three options. He could wait out the storm, change course onto the more open route, or brave the storm to continue his journey.
Percy immediately counted out the first option. He did not have enough supplies to last any longer than a short trip, and even a temporary deviation in his schedule could set him back considerably if anything unexpected happened. That left only around the storm into more dangerous waters or going through the storm itself.
The choice was taken away from Percy when an arrow landed uncomfortably close to him, spearing itself into the front of his boat just feet away from him. He whipped his head around, spying a small galley closing in on his own boat. The sails of the galley had no identifying markings on them.
"Oh, crap," Percy muttered to himself. "I guess Alexis was right about those pirates."
Quickly turning back, Percy began to row, his oars displacing massive amounts of water as he used as much strength as he could to accelerate as quickly as he could. However, because he had already rowed for nearly sixty miles, he could feel his arms fatiguing, and he could barely keep pace with the galley behind him, still threatening to gain on him. The galley was further bolstered by a favorable wind, which blew behind them to increase the speed of Percy's pursuing ship even as its oars propelled it forward.
"Into the storm it is," Percy whispered to himself, steeling himself for all that could lay ahead. Making haste for the storm, he willed the water around him to help as much as it could.
The storm was an unusual beast. It almost seemed reminiscent of a hurricane to Percy, which, even to a son of Poseidon, was a terrifying thought – no sane person, demigod or not, would willingly go into a hurricane if they were normal. Percy was no exception. Still, with his other option being getting captured and possibly killed or enslaved with the low chance of being able to fight off a ship full of pirates, the hurricane actually seemed like the safer option as a son of Poseidon.
Grey storm clouds gathered ahead as lightning flashed above and thunder shook the seas. The wind became erratic and powerful, blowing in every which way. The waves grew larger and more unpredictable, making navigation through the waters difficult. Torrential rain poured overhead, lowering visibility and increasing the fear factor of Percy's situation. Of course, even if he capsized, he would likely be able to survive, but he didn't fancy his chances of trekking a hundred miles on ancient Greek land without any supplies or preparation. It would be easier if his ship survived.
Percy's eyes widened as he spotted something in the distance. Craning his neck for a better angle, he saw a massive whirlpool right in front of him, threatening to swallow him in. Quickly taking his oars, he steered hard right, maneuvering the boat to dodge the threat. Quickly glancing behind him, he saw the pirate galley do the same, following closely as it mimicked his path.
As Percy began to consider his offensive options against his enemies, a flash of lightning off to his right side distracted him. Rather, the shadow illuminated by the flash of lightning distracted him. He felt his hands tremble as he saw six distinct and massive heads in the cloudy distance. With a start, he realized the true danger facing him. It was not those pirates.
No, this storm was nothing natural – it was a product of two of the worst monsters to ever touch the seas.
Percy was facing Scylla and Charybdis once more. Only this time, he had no friends and allies to help him. He looked back at the whirlpool, which had to be none other than Charybdis. From his point of view, the whirlpool looked quite safe – a rather loaded observation that quite accurately described the level of 'screwed' Percy was – compared to the six-headed serpent in the distance. Unfortunately, the former option would involve the guaranteed destruction of his only vessel of transport, and while he was a prodigious swimmer, he had no misgivings about being able to swim to Mycenae.
Indeed, his only option was the low-percentage one: to face Scylla and come out on the other end intact.
He rowed toward almost certain doom. Emphasis on the almost.
The six heads roared simultaneously as he approached, shaking the earth and seas as Percy felt his entire ship vibrate. Quickly looking behind him, he saw the galley begin to slow down its pursuit, likely because of hesitancy on the ship about following a small boat into the most famous gauntlet in Greek mythology.
It was too late for them anyway. One by one, each head of Scylla reached down and plucked people off of the deck of the galley. Even amid the rain and wind and lightning, Percy could hear the painful screams of men as they tried to run from the inevitable. Eventually, one head simply smashed itself onto the galley, shattering wooden planks and cracking the galley into two, each half quickly sinking into the depths of the Myrtoan Sea.
For his part, Percy stayed the course, trying to make as much distance as he could while Scylla was still pre-occupied with the pirates. Now, however, the pirates were all gone, and Percy was all that was left. He could already feel the heads beginning to turn towards him, and in the span of a few seconds, he felt a head start to come down towards him.
Instinctively, Percy turned and willed the water rise, creating a massive barrier of water that the head smashed itself against. Some of the water fell onto Percy and his boat, but it otherwise kept the head far from Percy himself. He was shocked by the immensity of the wall he had created, and by all indications, the heads of Scylla were as well.
Before either side could do anything more, a bolt of lightning split the sky, striking into Percy's water wall and using it as a conductor to hit directly onto Scylla herself, forcing all six heads to cry out and writhe in pain as the monster contorted and fell into the water. The ensuing shockwave from the lightning hitting and blowing apart Percy's wall blew his boat out of the water, sending Percy flying through the air as his boat broke apart underneath him.
Landing into the water, Percy quickly surfaced, spinning around to try and find his bearings. As he turned, he suddenly stopped spinning and looked upwards at the imposing sight of a trireme that was coming towards him. Compared to the galley that had been chasing him, the trireme was gigantic, with its many oars compensating for the much larger size.
The trireme pulled parallel to where Percy was floating in the water, and a rope was tossed over the side. Quickly holding onto it, Percy pulled himself to the deck. The moment he pulled his head over the plane of the deck, two pairs of armored arms reached towards and grabbed him.
Percy was forced to his knees as he looked up to see a man dressed in a set of armor.
"Who are you?" the man snarled.
Percy thought about playing the sarcastic card but decided against it after seeing the heavily armed nature of everyone onboard.
"I am but a humble traveler," Percy amciably began. "I was making my way to port when I was caught in the storm, and my boat capsized just before you arrived."
The armored man looked straight at Percy. "A likely story," the captain spat out, stepping back slightly. "Now let me tell you how I see it. We were chasing a slaver ship. We cornered them here, at Pityoussa, but they had the audacity to slip into a storm. Not just any storm, mind you – an unnatural storm caused by the two fiercest monsters of the sea. No one but the most experienced and skilled could have navigated that storm." The man paused. "And rarely do we see demigods here, especially ones so strong."
The man turned to one of the armed guards that had pulled Percy up. "Lock him up with the other," the armored man ordered. The armed guard nodded fervently, roughly grabbing Percy by the arm and dragging him down the decks. They came to stop by a small cage, and Percy was unceremoniously tossed into it.
Brushing himself off, Percy suddenly realized that he was not alone. In the corner of the small cage, an older man – middle aged, by Percy's estimation – clothed in patched blankets.
"Hello," Percy greeted. "My name is Perseus." The man coughed in response, nodding as a reply.
"You may call me P," the man looked up as he replied. Percy nodded, and took a seat by the older man as the trireme began to spin around.
"Do you know where this ship is going?" Percy asked, unsure of his next move.
P scoffed. "Mycenae, of course. This vessel is from the city's navy."
Percy leaned back into his seat. Things may not have turned out the way he had originally planned or even hoped, but as things were, there could be a silver lining in all of this. After all, he was still getting Mycenae, albeit by a different path.
The two exchanged conversation on the way to Mycenae. The older man knew many of the intricacies of the Mycenae Navy and the city itself, which Percy filed and stored away for potential future usage. Percy talked about how he escaped from Scylla and Charybdis, though he forewent some of the 'juicier' details like how he put up a massive wall made of water.
As the ship finally came to a stop, two guards came to their small cage. After unlocking the door, each of them cell's inhabitants had a brown bag thrown over their heads.
When Percy's bag came off, he found himself in an ornately designed throne room. The retainers were off to the side and quiet. The guards were about as stone-faced as one could, seemingly staring into nothing. In the middle of the room was a grand throne, and on the throne was a man.
The man was well-dressed, even if he wore similar armor to those around him. His armor was shiny and polished, with no scratches compared to the used quality of the guards' armor. He had rings on his fingers and the cloth he wore was of a noticeably higher quality, likely being made of an expensive fabric.
This man was dressed like a king. Logic dictated that he was the king.
"Welcome," the man said, "to the royal court of Mycenae."
"Your hospitality is," Percy began, gesturing to his bindings, "truly unexpected."
"A necessary precaution. It is hardly every day that we receive such a powerful demigod such as yourself. And in any case, it was not my hospitality."
Percy furrowed his brows. "Then whose?"
"The king's."
That caught Percy by surprise. "Are you not the king?"
"Hardly." This time, the voice came not from the figure in front of him, but rather from his side. Turning, Percy saw P, his fellow inmate, grinning at him.
"This man," P continued, walking to the throne, "is little more than a decoy. A useful figure to have when I must leave the city but do not wish to announce that I am gone." A guard ran up to P and untied his binds, while another came and draped fine clothes on him. The man who had originally been sitting on the throne quietly left, a discreet grin on his face as P stood in front of the throne. Turning, P sat down onto the ostentatious seat of power, flexing his shoulders as he did.
"Now, Perseus, let us speak of your predicament," Perseus said, his eyes narrowing and his hands on the armrests of his throne.
"That's a rather fascinating tale," Perseus said, "but do you really expect me to believe it? Especially coming from a son of Poseidon?"
"You can believe what you want," Percy replied, "but this is what I need to do. The prophecy I have been given must be fulfilled, and I would like to do it with your help."
"Prophecy? Ha!" Perseus cried, pained laughter coming out from the man. "I would sooner believe in the entrails burnt by a street seer than a prophecy." He virtually spat the last word out.
"You are young, Perseus," Perseus rose, slowly walking towards Percy. "You have not yet seen much of the world. I do not know what lies your father has told, but he is not what you seem to think he is. Do you truly believe the gods care for you?"
"My dad has made his mistakes," Percy countered, "but he is not nearly as bad as you make him out to be."
"No?" Perseus questioned wistfully, a sly grin on his face. "What I have learned over many years is that you are wrong. Take the case of Medusa, for instance – a beautiful maiden that once took the fancy of your father. He forced himself onto her in a sacred temple, and when the time came for punishment to be given, he ran, leaving her to fend off an enraged goddess by herself. She was punished for Poseidon's mistakes. In this case, neither of the Olympians involved were 'good' in any sense."
Percy looked at his namesake, unsure of how to exactly defend against the accusation. "A mistake, but one that he realizes he made."
"Then he shouldn't have made it!" Perseus roared. "And they shouldn't have their children – us – to end their mistakes for them! That's all we really are – free assassins to do the gods' dirty work."
With a sweep of his cloak, Perseus sat back down.
"Still," the older man mused, stroking his chin, "if you truly want to complete this quest of yours… yes, that would work. I have something for you." He gestured to a guard. "Bring them in."
The doors to the throne room opened, and two others strode in, escorted by a few guards. One was a man around Perseus' age, while the other was a woman around Percy's own age.
"Yes, this will do nicely," Perseus whispered to himself.
When Percy and the other two were the same distance away from the throne, the guards commanded them to stop.
"Now, Perseus," Perseus boomed, "since you so desperately want to complete a quest that I give you, I shall give you one to complete." Many of the other guards winced as they heard the tone of voice, and some had widened eyes as they heard their king's voice.
"I can only hope you all will survive this," Perseus continued.
"What is it?" Percy defiantly asked. A guard began to stride to Percy with a frown on his face, but Perseus halted the guard with a simple hand gesture.
"It's rather simple," Perseus replied. "I want you to steal a sword from the forges of Hephaestus."
A/N: I hope you all like this chapter. Some needed setup to lead into the rest of the arc. I'm not sure if there will be an update next Monday, as I'm also focusing on updating (and finishing) some of my other long-forgotten fanfics. Still, I'll try my best, and if not next Monday, there will be an update within two weeks.
Thanks for reading! Please review, favorite, and follow, and stay tuned for the next chapter!