Chapter 4: Eye of the Storm

-Caesar-

The Colosseum was loud, very loud. Deafening, with tens of thousands of Romans, rich and poor, from Iberia to Nigeria, Commoner to Senator. All chanting one thing in unison: "Death!". In the dusty circular arena, a man fought with all his strength, parrying, blocking, slashing and stabbing with his gladius and hide shield. His opponent? A great, muscled lion from the vast savannah of Central Africa.

The man - gladiator - a lean, muscled man in his early twenties, gasped for air, his lungs working desperately to attend to the needs of his straining muscles. Long, red, ugly lines adorned his unprotected torso and legs, courtesy of the lion before him. Dark hair matted with sweat clung to his forehead. The lion pounced again, and where the man had once been lucky, he was no longer. The former convict turned gladiator had his throat slashed from the lion's throats. Where the gladiator died, the people roared with cheer.

Fifteen stories above in the Emperor's stand, Jason Grace looked over his subjects in disdain. What a bunch of degenerates. He thought. It wasn't politically correct, nor will the people appreciate his comments. Hence he kept it to himself and maintained a neutral expression. He didn't personally want this fight today, but it was demanded when a new Caesar takes the Roman throne. "Celebration", they called it. This is a waste of time and money that Rome could spend otherwise, and barbaric as well. He thought. Stable boys dragged the body away, leaving a trail or red across the arena floor. Guards herded the lion away with electrified prodding rods, and cleaners scrubbed the blood off the floor for the next form of entertainment.

The Colosseum went silent. All one hundred thousand occupants expectantly waiting for the Emperor to give the command to commence the next game. Jason let the tension build up, and when the silence was deafening and tense, he clapped his hands. The crowd roared, and the massive doors on opposite sides of the Colosseum opened up, a dozen men from each side marched out, wearing mismatched pieces of armour and weapons. One wore a legionnaire's helm, another a leather breastplate, and so on. They started to engage each other, slashing and stabbing with brutal precision. But Jason's mind was elsewhere.

His father's body was embalmed with chemicals, to preserve the body to last till the end of time, it was unnatural, Jason thought. Bodies should decay and return to the Earth. But Rome would see its Emperors preserved in a holy burial ground that was accessible to the public once a year for residents to pay respect. Two lines of Praetorian guards escorted the horse-drawn carriage bearing his late father's body. On the sides of the avenue, hundreds of citizens looked on, their expression differing from grief, ignorance, and indifference. Ten paces behind the procession, Jason Grace sat on a beautiful white horse, yet all he wore was black. His expression conveyed sadness, of which he didn't feel as much as his expression showed.

He was never really close to his father, and what interactions he did have with his father was regarding his upbringing to become a more competent Emperor loyal to Rome's interests. Since the age of seven, he regularly trained with bodyguards, learning how to wield a sword, throw a spear, and shoot an assault rifle of different calibres. In the afternoons, he would have lessons to commander great armies, drawing on the vast libraries within the palace's library, studying strategies from brilliant generals. From Hannibal to Napoleon, from Miltiades to Rommel.

His nights were spent either reading, or if his father arranged an event he saw fit to allow his son to partake in, he would be dressed in fine suits to meet businessmen, councillors, senators and generals. And as he grew older, the sort of company he was introduced to changed as well. Going from friendly conversations with his father's advisors to conversations with "eligible" young women coming from the upper end of the social hierarchy. Noblewomen from all over the Roman Empire, from nobles from Iberia to local families based in Rome, Neapolis, Antrium, or more exotic lands such as those from the former Persian and Babylonian empire, or the Kingdom of Egypt.

And yet, none of these women who he met over the years really left a lasting impression on him, they just…came and went, really. All eligible women of noble birth came to Rome to strike at the heart of Rome's crown prince and ultimately failed.

The crowd's synchronised roar brought him out of his musings, it turns out that one group of gladiators have emerged victorious, although they have taken some casualties, out of the dozen that each team had, only three had made it out alive. The rest were in various forms and states of decapitations, scattered throughout the arena. Jason quickly shooed his hand, signalling the crew members to drag away the dead bodies.

The next round of entertainment has begun. On Jason's cue, the entire Colosseum was flooded up to the point where the stands where the seats started were able to be sprayed by the salt water. Four large triremes were brought into the Colosseum, and the master of entertainment, Cornelius Von Hausmann from Germania grabbed the microphone, and in his deep and rough accent, described the battle for Carthage Nova. A strategic coastal city on the Iberian peninsula that had been controlled by the Carthaginians, whoever controlled that vital fortress controlled Iberia and Carthage's control and sphere of influence over Europa.

Jason had read about the battle, and how, despite a Roman victory, it was not due to Rome's underwhelming army that seized the day, but rather Rome's legions, who were responsible for storming the fortress and killing any loyalists in the city. And yet, as the re-enactment went on, it was evident that someone had tampered with history rather unfairly. Of the four ships inside the Colosseum, two were Roman, and two were Carthaginian. However, one of Carthage's ships were on fire, and the other was being peppered by arrows from Roman ships. Jason stared at the "re-enactment" in disgust. It was entertaining and flattering to see Rome's might displayed on such a scale, but utterly inaccurate, especially during those times when Rome invested heavily into its armies and had only a token force to show for its navy.

At his side, sitting on a gold carved throne, was his betrothed, Julia Augusta from the old Augustus family. She was certainly very beautiful, and charming in her own way. With dazzling green eyes, a full set of lips, braided blonde hair and an hourglass figure.

She possessed an unlikely wit that he didn't think she had and was rather strategic in the games of chess that they played together, albeit rather infrequently. To say that he had feelings for her, however, would have been a misconception. He had no feelings for her. At best, he would say that they were friends, their relationship fragile and new to say the least. But the more Jason came to know her, he could start to see why she was so desirable as an Empress and a wife.

He still couldn't keep his thoughts away from Piper, however. That wild and beautiful girl he will have to forsake for his duty to Rome. He wanted to cry, to let out his anguish at the unfairness. He wished that he didn't have the title of a noble, or a Caesar so that he could marry for love. It ached him, but he had to bury it deep within himself, to get through this nest of snakes in the Royal Court. If anyone were to find out that this girl still held a place in his heart, she could become a target to hold influence over him, like blackmail.

Jason shook these worrying thoughts. He looked to his side to see Octavian, seemingly bored out of his mind at such a lowly display of human savagery. It seems their interests were aligned in their field of entertainment. Jason stood up from his golden carved throne.

"Octavian, let's go. There are important matters to talk about."

"Yes, Caesar." He bowed respectfully, and followed Jason out, followed by the four armed Praetorian Guards.

The distance between the Royal Palace and the Colosseum was rather short, but nothing that didn't require a special envoy of his personal armoured vehicle that reeked of luxury and subtle protection, as well as an armed entourage of military police and his personal guards. Jason rolled his eyes at the display of protection that his security detail was so anxious on providing.

The ride back to the palace was rather uneventful, neither individual talked, there were no waving crowds on the streets, and they made it back to the palace in record time.

The royal palace of Rome was designed like the palace in ancient Rome, much of the architecture was there, but has been renovated over the years to keep up with technological advancements. Now, technology was incorporated into the palace subtly in the form of automated doors and security cameras the size of buttons.

The two of them entered Jason's study, the four guards accompanying them remaining outside. Octavian looked around. He had been here many times, but it seems like he could never get around the magnitude of importance that this room had. Choices were made here that decided the fate of Ancient Rome.

Jason turned to face him. Octavian seemed a smart man. Ambitious, for sure, but Jason could use that in the interests of Rome. He simply needed Octavian to align his own interests with those of Rome.

"I have an important diplomatic mission for you," Jason said suddenly.

Octavian's eyebrows rose at his words, his eyes gleaming with interest.

"If we are to pursue an aggressive foreign policy against the Greeks, we will need the element of surprise, should negotiations break down and war erupts. Thrace has been an independent nation since their revolt in 1985, breaking away from the Greek state. The Greeks have never sought to claim it back by force. Neither have we sought to gain Thrace as an ally, important though they may be. That ends with your mission, should you accept."

The gears in Octavian's head were turning, and his eyebrows were scrunched up, deep in thought.

"If…I were to accept, and Thrace somehow becomes our ally, how would that help?"

Jason smirked. He walked over to a table, leaning over it. The table showcased a leather map, with Greek and Roman divisions highlighted in blue and red.

"While the border between Thrace and Greece is fortified with troops and turret emplacements, it is not heavily fortified in comparison to the Greco-Roman border. Moreover, since the congressional meeting that the Greeks had two months ago, reinforcements have grown fifty per cent along the border, but only a fraction of that percentage has been assigned to the Thracian border. A secret alliance between the Thracians and us will ensure that we could spearhead along their border, cutting deep into Greek territory. Their northern defensive line will collapse, and their forces will be encircled."

Octavian looked up, he seemed nervous. "what about our other territories in the Americas and Africa?"

"Our forces in Africa will be guarding the coastline, with seven legions stationed to guard the Suez canal. In America, no grand battle plan has been drawn yet, but we control most of the states there, and our puppet will come in useful in deterring any threats that they may face against the Greeks."

Jason stood up straight, confidence shining in his eyes.

Only to be lost with Octavian's next question.

"If I were to fail in this mission, and the Thracians stand by with their stance of neutrality, or worse, become an ally of the Greeks, what then? I trust you have a contingency plan?"

Jason's confidence wavered at this. "If the Thracians reject our offer, then we will be at an impasse. We could either back out of our hollow threats and attempt to restore diplomatic ties with the Greeks. Our people will lose support in our government and me as a figurehead."

Jason took a deep breath."The second option would be to strike in the Americas. Win decisively there and slowly push the Greeks back. However, it would be entirely within the realm of possibility that it would eventually boil down into an attritional war. The Greek defensive line on our immediate borders are too strong, their most elite divisions guarding important strategic locations. The Pacific ocean and Greek's naval superiority would deter any naval invasion into Eurasia from our American colonies, and Greek puppets in the Indian subcontinent would guard against incursions that we may undertake."

"I need you to accept, Octavian. You are Rome's most competent senator right now. You're not as arrogant as the Old Guard, you are quick-witted and present yourself well. With the Thracians on our side, a Dominant Rome is possible. Once we strike at the capital and capture it, Greek morale will drop, and a Roman victory will be possible."

Octavian looked over the map. After several seconds in deep thought. He stood up straight and looked at Jason in the eye.

"I will ensure that your wishes become a reality, Caesar. I won't fail you." Octavian said.

Jason put a hand on his shoulder, smiled, then whispered, "Thank you. I ensure it, if you come back successful, we, the people of the Roman Empire, and I, Caesar, will be indebted to you. You will leave tonight."

Octavian nodded, and shouted, "Senatus Populusque Romanus". He turned his back, and walked out the door, the magnitude of the task weighing down on him, it felt good.

-Prisoner-

Arkadia maximum security prison, outskirts of Rome

The bright light within the prison cell no longer blinded Perseus. He had grown used to it. He had faced worse things here. Torture, both physical and mental, had been inflicted on his now fragile body for months. And his body has suffered for it. Multiple bruises and slashes adorned his semi-tanned skin. He still remembered the day he was captured.

Perseus froze, caught like a deer in headlights. The praetorian guards, upon seeing their dead emperor at his feet, blood-soaked knife in hand, raised their weapons, pointed in his direction. Perseus turned around and jumped.

The open study was three stories up into the air. Upon landing, pain shot up his leg. He could've struck the landing a little better. He got up, pain evident on his face, He limped away from the palace. Above, Praetorian guards shot stun from stun guns. One of these stun gun shells hit Perseus in the torso. He let out a yelp of pain, the harsh electricity numbing his body. He fell flat on his face, unmoving with an occasional electrical twitch, Perseus's vision went black.

He woke several hours later, in a prison cell. He has changed out his clothes into those suiting a prisoner. Gone were his tight suit of black, now he wore mundane striped clothing of black and white.

Fucking hell, its bright. Perseus thought.

Indeed, the cell was bright. Harsh, white light from fluorescent bulbs was placed on the ceilings of the prison, covered by what seemed like a plastic cover to prevent prisoners from disabling the lights. Perseus took in his surroundings. A simple toilet in a corner, and a hard-looking bed in the other. There was a simple table with nothing on it. Curiously, in the middle, there was a large wooden cross in the shape of an 'X'. There were straps on the four ends of the cross.

Blood drained from his face, it didn't take a genius to figure out what kind of activities were conducted on the cross.

As if on cue, the dull, metal door to his cell opened. Three armed guards entered, followed by a man that resembled the Emperor's Praetorian guard, beside him was a man dressed in simple red robes. In his hand, he carried a pouch, which he set on the table.

The fear on his face was potent. At this, he smirked menacingly.

"Doctor, do your duty."

The torturer nodded his head in understanding. "Get him onto the cross." The armed guards moved as one, each taking an arm while all Perseus could do was resist, hoping to get some traction on the ground to resist being pulled. All it did was delay the inevitable. His arms were pulled apart and were strapped onto the cross. The guards bent down and did the same for his legs, trying their best to avoid his frantic kicks.

*Smack!*

A sharp right hook by the Praetorian eliminated Perseus' resistance. His glare was fixated on the guard, his eyes burning with hate.

"leave us." The Praetorian guard commanded.

The armed prison guards did as told. They closed the door behind them and turned to guard the doorway. The Praetorian guard turned his head around to face Perseus.

Meanwhile, the "doctor" that was in charge of his torture produced a small knife from his pouch, holding it up into the light to see it glint. He strode towards Perseus, not wasting any time. He pressed the cold blade onto his skin, just above the muscles on his chest.

"This might hurt." He said jokingly.

Before Perseus could react, he pushed the blade in, and dragged it downwards, opening up a large gash. Perseus let out a muffled groan, determined to keep his voice down. To not give the Romans the satisfaction of seeing him suffer. But as the blade continued its path downwards, he screamed.

Perseus sat unmoving on the cross. They have only unchained him once every day to piss and shit. But even then, every so often, the torture will get to him that he would piss in his pants, resulting in a yellow stain that smelled. If anything, it reduced the time for each torture session. The bed and table are just another form of psychological torture. He speculated.

The door opened once more, and Perseus bristled. This time, four Praetorian guards entered the now cramped room, followed by a young man dressed lavishly in golden silks. A golden laurel wreath crowned his forehead, and electric blue eyes met-ocean green ones.

Authors Note: Well, that wraps up this chapter, sorry for the delay. I was caught up in some personal problems that I had to get over. Those problems will likely continue for some time, so I updates would become more infrequent (if that is even possible). I will be introducing two new characters in the next two chapters. People who guess correctly will get a cookie ;) (Metaphorically).

I'll try to come up with the next chapter by this month. I already have an outline for the next two chapters, so I'll try to fill it in ASAP.

*Clap Clap* Review review!

JC RH (Regarding chapter 1): "I have only read the Prologue yet, but damn dude. You write em well. This is really well written. And this is a perfect set up. And I must say, I would love it if you're able to continue this until you reach your target. It's always refreshing to read long fanfictions which are not abandoned."

-Thanks, man.

JC RH (Regarding chapter 2): "Nice going. The modern and realistic take is pretty cool. But even I am pretty interested where you'd go with Percy. After all, the who the whole saga is named after him. I must say, I would love it if Percy takes a leading role in the war. But as you said after an assassination, him representing greeks is practically waging war. But then again Percy could have destroyed all the evidence 'wink'. Ohh and, Would there be a pairing and who'd it be?

Nice going early in the story. Don't let the steam die down. Also, trying to focus on both fronts of the war is a brave attempt, but it could backfire. It would be just too big. If I had to compare it would have to be similar to A Song of Ice and Fire. But then again that's up to you to pull off :P

I can't wait for the next chapter. Good luck."

-Thanks for the constructive criticism, I'm trying to make this story more of a "Heroes of Olympus" take, meaning a focus on more characters. Rick Riordan even gave us some new character perspectives such as Reyna and Nico in "Blood of Olympus", so I guess that's the focus that I would be going on.

As of right now, I don't have any focuses in mind, I haven't worked out how to bring the major characters together well and seamlessly. If I do come up with any pairings, it would be towards the end of the story, I suppose. Again, thank you for your review.

JC RH (Chapter 3): "By the way, this is just my opinion, but do try to come up with a better name. The Eternal War does not suit this story and it just too common. Just my opinion.

And probably bring it to a T rating. As much as I love this M rating, a T rating would help reach a bigger audience. But that is as long as the rating change doesn't harm the flow of the story."

-To be honest, for the story title, I drew inspiration from a book I read some time ago. It's from the Time Riders series by Alex Scarrow called "The Eternal War". I won't spoil it, but the storyline is essentially the same as this story. I have tried some options, but it didn't really click with me, feel free to leave any suggestions

For the rating, I want to leave it at M for story flexibility. I have plans for major cussing (Especially when war breaks out), and some lemons (for future pairings), although those could be implied. As for now, with my current plans for this story, I'll leave it at that, maybe I'll change it in the future.

I Am Definitely Jeff Bridges: " This looks like a really interesting take - I'm looking forward to seeing where you take this, and especially how you plan on tying all the characters' stories together!"

-Thank you.

Next chapter: Octavian forges an alliance, a commander faces the enemy, and the threat of war looms over all of Greece.