Caput XXI
***CCXL***
The end began with a song of salvation. The crowds came to the piers to greet their saviors, the Corinthians. It, of course, did not strike them that weightiness of the day. It was the 13th of mensis September, the Ides of September and a Roman celebration. The day marked the anniversary of the dedication of the Temple of Jupiter Opitimus Maximus as well as a feast in the great god's honor. In fact, it extended beyond Jupiter and the entire Capitoline Triad received a feast of veneration on this day. Thus, as Athena's daughter raged upon the Acropolis, her enemies offered sacrifice and honors to Minerva in hope that she would determine this day one of great portend.
As the ships approached the piers, only the ships masters and the helmsmen were visible. All other members of the ship's company remained concealed. The crowds cheered and several choruses began to sing praises to the gods. Their calls of joy and salvation turned to fear and panic as the first of the soldiers' feet struck the deck. For from the decks of the Corinthian ships, men in Roman armor leapt to the quays. Below them, civilians tumbled into the bay, turning the water into a morass of struggling people.
The men of the Cohors VI Gallorum and Cohors I Germanorum had fought and killed beside Perseus in Gaul. When their regiments received a request from the newly titled Praefectus Achaea for support in Greece, forced marches of several hundred miles had been endured without question. At the conclusion of their march south, Corinthian ships waited at Mediolanum, commanded by the Greek father of their former commander, the governor of Corinth. At their initial hesitation, the governor revealed that members of the Greek rebellion had murdered his daughter.
In minutes, nearly a thousand Roman soldiers filled the streets of Piraeus. The defenders suffered from the fact that ninety percent of their forces faced the wrong direction. The garrison, just fifteen hundred strong, believed their primary role opposing the Roman legions to their landward side. As such, only small patrols of five to ten soldiers walked the seaward approaches. The seven of those that existed died within thirteen minutes of the landings. By the time that a unit of one hundred Greek defenders composed itself, all fourteen hundred and forty men of the two cohortes equitatae roamed the streets. Cohors VI Gallorum's cavalry, one hundred and twenty strong, possessed just one mission: opening the outer gates.
***CCXLI***
Waving torches signaled the mission's success. Percy, in direct command of his Germanic cavalry, heeled the black bastard forward. The midnight-colored stallion surged, forever at the fore of his comrades. The column, over a thousand men strong, entered the city at a gallop. Bodies littered the streets, but the bloodshed had not reached unacceptable levels. The city's administrator arrayed himself outside the Temple of Aphrodite Euploia. Four hundred soldiers flanked the man. Percy reined in Blackjack and swung himself from the horse. He walked forward, eyes watching the little man who believed himself important in the world.
"This city is the sovereign territory of Gree…" Percy cut him off, drawing his sword as he walked forward.
"This city, along with the rest of Achaea, belongs to Rome. If you claim yourself sovereign, you claim yourself in rebellion against Rome." Percy flipped the sword in his hand, the pommel now faced the overweight administer. "Enough crosses litter the countryside to reveal what becomes of rebels and traitors, would you like to join them?"
The man relented, as Percy knew he would. His underhanded assault of Piraeus resulted from two factors. One, a traditional siege and assault would have taken far too much time and resources. While yes, Piraeus unlike Athens did not require a full circumvention of the city, it would draw away more men than he could afford for too long. Secondly, his men were primed to rampage through a city. While Percy accepted that not even he could, or is it just would, not stop what would befall Athens, he could stop it from occurring in Piraeus at least. What is it, Percy thought, that makes me heartless in this matter? That the eyes of the gods are me? Or that Rome's are?
Four hours later, Percy returned to his tent. A missive from Rome awaited him. After reading it quickly, it summoned Jason. The letter lay on the table. Percy stared at it as Jason entered. Percy motioned to it and the younger man lifted it. He read in silence and then looked at the commander. "Agrippa wishes to marry your son and his daughter."
"So it appears."
"Yet you do not appear happy."
"As the letter states, I have no say in the matter, he is merely informing me." Jason could read that his cousin was not in the mood to discuss such things. He turned his attention to the rough diagram of the Athenian city walls and the Roman forces surrounding the city.
"How much longer do we wait?" The Twenty-first and Marcus Primus' Tenth occupied the northern flanks, the Twenty-first to the northwest and the Tenth to the northeast. The east and south fell to Jason's Thirteenth. While the two auxiliary cohorts occupied Piraeus, one of Jason's still held a position between the two cities. Lepidus, now commanding the Second, held the western flank of the city. Tiberius nominally held command of the Twenty-first, but it was well accepted that the men of Legio XXI Rapax would not move without orders from the Son of Neptune that led the army. Throughout the Roman perimeter, their cavalry roamed freely. From a tactical perspective, it gave them extreme flexibility, from a logistical one it kept the horses feed and mobile.
"Until they are hungry enough to be weak."
***CCXLII***
"They have cut the wall and seized Piraeus. Our supply line is cut, while theirs are extended." It was a cold truth. Piraeus, which had long stood as the lynchpin of Athenian maritime resupply, now belonged to the enemy. The constant lifeline of the Athenian people and onetime empire now became the port through which it seemed limitless amounts of shipping delivered supplies from throughout the Roman world. In essence, the former port of salvation had become one of doom. The city wailed in their reaction to the loss. All of Athens knew the histories, every time the walls were breached, the city fell. The Persians had sacked it long before the walls existed, but since their construction, if the walls were breached, violence followed.
"Next they will begin to tighten the lines surrounding the city." The assembled leaders looked to Zoë Nightshade. "I've seen many sieges over the years. They will close the lines and then prepare for the breach. Once the walls are broken, they will rush into the city. Part of the force will most likely aim for the Acropolis; they will see it vital to be captured. The rest will be unleashed upon the city." Her expression shifted from factual emotionlessness to one of sadness. "Far too many Hunters are among our ranks because of how sieges end."
"Can we disrupt their process?"
"I may have an idea," collectively they turned to Phoebe, one of the Hunters and a Daughter of Apollo. The girl with fiery hair began to describe a plan. It was bold, yet well thought out. It took her a quarter of an hour to line it all out. Malcolm did not like it, but then again, Malcolm liked little these days. The city's food stores declined at a pace far higher than anticipated. The situation had not reached a level necessitating panic, but the city's administrators proved themselves incapable of proper records keeping and a contingent of trusted demigods now handled the dispersal of food.
The sound of bare feet slapping stone caused him to turn before Aspasia's voice, "Pater, Pater, I found it!"
Despite his daughter's discovery, verified by the Hunters which had before utilized the Labyrinth, Malcolm still found himself repeating back the night's plan to the other commanders. "We will sally from the southeast gate, attacking the Second." That decision had been easy enough. Only the Thirteenth and the Second were in a position to be useful for this attack and avoiding a Son of Jupiter seemed prudent.
Zoë stepped in, "As you do so, me, Phoebe, and Stavros will slip over the north wall. And make for the Roman commander." Malcolm nodded. He and the fifteen hundred men he led, served as a distraction. Their lives had been deemed low enough priorities that the Roman commander's assassination outweighed them.
Annabeth spoke the meeting's closing, "Athena watch over us."
***CCXLIII***
The attack began quietly. The most forward pickets died with Greek knives in their kidneys or throats. Next, came the roving patrols dispatched with arrows or slingstones. Now they came to the Roman earthworks and the torches which would… Malcolm cursed. His hope had been to reach one hundred yards of the fortifications before discovery. Instead, some keen-eyed bastard caught them at twice that.
***CCXLIV***
The rider appeared out of nowhere. His appearance drawing Tiberius and other commanders to Percy's command location. Percy's tent sat in a small grove, isolated from the chaos of the main camp. The rider shouted his report from his horse. The Greeks had sallied against the Second. Lepidus requested cavalry and infantry support to wipe it out. Percy turned to Tiberius.
"Make it happen, report back when the forces are moving." Caesar's stepson saluted and sprinted from the clearing, already shouting orders as he raced toward the main portion of the camp.
***CCXLV***
The horses warned him. Their soft neighs and whinnies telling him more than they could nearly any other mortal. He drew the Sword of Brutus, keeping his body between the weapon and the entrance to the tent. The man's sandal caused a stone to rattle across others. Percy spun to his left, the blade whistling as it shot through the air in his left hand. Surprisingly, the man blocked it, though doing so caused him to take a step back. He wore full bronze armor; Percy wore just his short tunic. Assassination, I cannot deny they are trying to win. Percy switched the sword to his right hand. The man swung his sword. Percy torqued his body out of the blade's path, before using his own sword to continue the motion. His left hand trapped the weapon low and the man's right. Percy whipped the blade through the man's abdomen, his left arm also catching the edge at the elbow.
The man dropped the sword and attempted to hold his bowels inside. He stumbled to the door, Percy following. The man made it to the outer edge of the tent. "Zo…" he managed before Percy thrust the sword through the back of his neck, ending all verbal communication. As the man fell forward, his blood running through the dirt, Percy saw a second figure before him. She was small, wearing silvery hides, and familiar.
"I think you looked the same the last time I saw you, Lieutenant of Artemis."
"It is a gift from the goddess, I will forever remain a maiden." Zoë Nightshade responded while drawing two hunting knives from her belt. Percy left his sword at his side, but lifted a Greek shield, a war trophy to his left arm.
"Is it also a gift from your goddess to have the capacity to murder Roman soldiers?"
"Murder implies they are innocent; all men are far from that."
"Ah, so we can limit our conversation to the disembowelments and castrations?"
"Will you limit yours to crucifixion?" She did not wait for an answer. "I should have killed you that day on the beach in Syria."
"You would have tried." Zoë ignored the dead Stravros and approached the commander. The Roman's sword angled toward the ground; his left hand held the shield.
"Your father will not protect you."
"Neither will your goddess." He watched the girl move gracefully. Moving as a predator, closing the distance without doing so obviously. Suddenly, however, she took three rapid steps and hurled herself skyward. The girl flipped acrobatically, her movement hurling her past Percy and he felt a knife cut deeply into his upper back. On reflex more than conscious action, he spun to the left, moving the shield parallel to the ground. He felt the resistance of her body and the gasp of pain as the shield slammed into her left side. Percy adjusted his shoulder painfully, feeling the still inserted blade grind against his scapula. The girl knelt, wincing, to retrieve a xiphos next to the slain Greek. She favored her left side, but so did he now.
Regardless of her injuries, her attacks were blurs. For every one of his thrusts or strikes, she delivered two upon him. Instinct, not skill, kept him alive. Despite this, he felt his skin open at the cheek and again on the upper part of his right arm. Suddenly, she thrust her knife, not at him, but deeply into the shield before twisting, her motion wrenching the scutum from his arm. She smiled predatorially. She leapt, using the pull of the earth and her own slight frame to power the blow from both knife and sword. He was forced to place the flat of his blade against his forearm to block the blow. Still yet the outer part of his arm received another cut. Again, she lunged.
Percy blocked the two blows by directing them to his left. As her momentum took her toward the ground, Percy's knee connected with her midsection. Her breath driven from her body, Percy gripped her hair and wrenched her face savagely into the iron bands of a flaming brazier.
To the two observers, it was unknown if the smell of burning flesh, or the screams of pain, filled the night first. Too close to his victim to utilize his sword properly, Percy slammed its pommel into the girl's ribs repeatedly. He heard, rather than felt them give way. Despite her pain, Zoë forced him back as her knife bit deeply into his left calf. She righted herself, pieces of flesh tearing away and hanging from the searing metal. She appeared crazed. The hair on the right side of her head was burned away and smoked. The right side of her face resembled meat upon a spit. She is too fast, a fucking lioness. She began to circle, stalking him. Let us see how a lioness fights a bear. Wounded, he would not deny, she seemed all the more dangerous.
"A fucking lioness, you are."
"And you are a traitor to your kind." She attacked. His sword intercepted four lightning-fast blows, before he caught her right arm in his right hand. As Brutus' sword fell, he caught it with his left and slashed savagely into her ribcage. Even as blood painted his blade again, she pirouetted. Her left hand found the blade still protruding from his back and pulled it free with a long slice.
Percy's back arched and he cried out in pain. The woman leapt again. Percy spun in time to catch the blade through his forearm, instead of allowing it to cut his throat. Withstanding his own pain, his right hand gripped her throat and deflected her momentum to the ground. Where his knee arrested her fall at the cost of her left ribs.
***CCXLVI***
Tears ran down Artemis' face. Her lieutenant would not quit, and her body paid the price of her courage. The throne room watched the assassination attempt in a mixture of horror and awe. The large Roman commander and the lithe ever-young Huntress, locked in a duel which would shape the coming days. They all watched, even Artemis as the predatory cat that were her Hunters attempted to outlast the bear that seemed to be the Son of Poseidon. All watched, except Jupiter. Jupiter watched his daughter. He could feel her pain and sadness at the brutality being dealt to her long-time companion, but he was the king, his orders would be followed.
"She will die." Her whisper caused Apollo, though she did not know which one, to look up and their eyes met. She recognized in him that he would do what he could.
***CCXLVII***
"Is it hate or courage that keeps you standing, lioness?"
"I know who lives if you die." Percy pulled the knife from his arm. He tossed it into the fire beside him. Kneeling painfully, he retrieved a sword from the ground, he no longer cared what type or to whom it had belonged.
"I suspect you have lived too long to believe that. One death does not defeat an empire. Should I fall, another will take my place and he will fight all the harder because I fall. Rome does not forgive, nor does it forget. When I am finished, Greece shall not forget either." He pointed at her with the hilt of the sword and only now recognized it as the Sword of Brutus, though the blade appeared to have cracked along the transverse. Oh well. "You know this, lioness. I see it in your eyes."
"We will fight, until the end."
"Soon the only collective used to describe you will be the dead." He watched as the Lieutenant of Artemis' dark eyes narrowed. She charged. Instead of jumping, however, she dropped to the ground. As such, his own changing of level, dropping to one knee brought him directly into the pathway of her blade. He cocked his head to the side, saving the side of his neck and sacrificing the side of his head just above his right ear. He felt the blood running down his face and neck. His two arms wrapped around the girl just now scrambling to her feet and lifted her, attempted to drive her into the ground with his shoulder. He ignored the knife that plunged into his right hip.
His hand found the Sword of Brutus as the Zoë scrambled to her feet. He gripped the sword backwards. Spinning upon his knee, he thrust backward and with satisfaction felt the blade strike true. The sound of her gasp of pain ceased at the sound of breaking metal. He looked at his sword, the blade ended just three inches from the hilt. Percy tossed it away and struggled to his feet. The Huntress lay upon the ground, writhing with the broken blade of Percy's protruding from both sides of her right leg. Percy's eyes found the dropped xiphos and limped to it. He found himself feeling lightheaded but ignored it. He lifted the sword and walked back to the girl. He heard what he believed to be an approaching horse.
"You're too fucking proud to be a slave, lioness. I'll give you the honor of the sword." He centered the blade overtop her chest.
***CCXLVIII***
It pained her greatly to have watched the fight. She had, however, followed her lieutenant's orders. Therefore, now high a tree overlooking the clearing, Phoebe adjusted her aim. The Roman slowly approached the downed Hunter. Guide this arrow, oh goddess. She released the string as the general began to drop. She was only twenty feet away; she could not miss.
"Praefectus!" she heard a man cry, and a red cloaked figure threw himself into the general, hurling him to the ground.
***CCXLVIX***
Percy looked down into the already fading eyes of Tiberius. Their light was gone. Beyond the boy, another of the silver clad girls drug away the wounded Hunter. Percy ignored them. His focus was on Tiberius. The younger man whispered something, and Percy leaned closer.
"Senatus Populusque Romanus." He went still in Percy's arms. Percy could hear voices approaching men. First legionaries and then the sounds of horses. And then, Jason's voice.
"Praefectus, your wounds." Percy appreciated Jason's formality in front of the men. Two centurions, mentors of and men impressed by Tiberius, moved forward and moved the body. The men of Rome sensed the commander's anger, even as storm clouds began to form overhead. With the storm growing above them, he looked around the men. Almost all of them were from the ranks of Legio XXI Rapax. They could see the blood of their tribune mixed with his own heavy bleeding. Jason had to rush forward as he began to fall. Percy pushed him away.
"Well, you fucking bastards, if you needed a reason to tear the City of Athena down stone by stone, now you have it. Get your rest," rain began to fall as lightning crackled and thunder roared. "In a week, we're going into the city, and we are killing the cunts who did this."
***CCL***
Within the city, prayers to Poseidon went unanswered. They rose anyway. They did not rise from the Acropolis, where those praying for the Hunter lieutenant's survival assumed the storm's origin. Malcolm kept an arm around Aspasia, attempting to calm her while assuring the other children that Poseidon would assist them, despite knowing even gods did not openly oppose their children. As the winds and rain struck the buildings and thunder shook them, he found himself thinking, My gods. If the bastard can do this, why are we trying? He looked at his daughter and knew the answer. She was also the reason six hundred and seventy-two Greeks did not return from his attack. Initially, he believed the reward of killing the Roman commander outweighed the risk. Between watching his men being ridden down by Roman cavalry and the broken Hunter they now prayed for, he was not sure.
Across the room, Zoë lay pale. The Roman's blade opened the artery in her leg, though it seemed that the blade remaining lodged in the wound kept her from bleeding out. The right side of her face appeared as burnt meat, the skin charred, and hair gone. She lay with her body bare, except for a strip of linen covering her groin, as Children of Apollo fought to help her. Her wounds rendered her unresponsive, making the ingestion of nectar and ambrosia impossible. What they could apply to the exterior of the wounds, they had. Now they relied upon the medical knowledge of their father and texts from mortals as old as Hippocrates. Her frame, normally described as lean, now appeared slight and marred horrendously. Old scars covered it, as one would expect from an immortal who fought monsters for a goddess. The more grotesque wounds ranged in color from black to purple with flashes of white where the bone protruded from the skin. If her outside appears such, how much damage did the bastard do to her insides?
"Pater, what happened to her? The Hunters hunt monsters for the goddess, did one attack her?" Did she, I wonder? Is he a monster? Or just a man following orders? Is there a difference?
"Something did." Her arms wrapped around him.
"Will you keep me safe from whatever it is?"
"Of course, my dear." He lied.
***CCLI***
The pyre for Tiberius burned directly in front of Perseus' tent. For the Praefectus Achaea could not transit further. The ashes would then be transported back to Rome. The four hundred and fifty dead, mostly of the Second Legion, which endured the enemy sally now lay in a massive burial mound. Another burial mound of nearly seven hundred Greeks lay across the hill from their own. Seven hundred, Percy thought, I would not make that trade to cut the head off their commander. Do they fear me that much?
The rain of the storm eased his pain and healed his wounds to a limited extent, but he had been as shocked as Jason when it had been shocked to find Dione, Daughter of Nemesis, tending to his wounds. Even in Greek writing, she would not answer why, but merely inclined her head demurely and moved about her duties. After seven days of her care, he now stood before his commanders. Fresh wounds were clear, and it was not unknown several of them still leaked blood. Jason knew that water would heal him, but his few trips to the sea had resulted in only minimal healing. The attack had been discussed for three hours now; they had been planning the final attack for the last seven days.
"Sir, one of the centurions from the Twenty-first wishes to speak with you." Percy turned to Marcus Primus. He could see the skepticism in the man's eyes. Primus had just departed the table upon which the commanders discussed the coming assault. It was midafternoon, the attack would commence at nightfall.
"Well, let's hear it." The whole company within the tent followed him out. Jason, a somewhat distant look in his eye, wandered to his horse and Percy watched as he road to a hillock from which he could look upon Athens. A centurion stepped forward, Percy thought he mildly familiar. He saluted and waited to be addressed. "Well, get on with it."
"Well, sir, I have… I have been designated the spokesman, sir."
"Why is that?"
"You and I was in the ranks together, sir, in Illyria. You were my centurion."
"I thought you looked familiar." The man's bearing broke, and he became a ranker again.
"Well, sir, you caught me shitting myself in my first battle."
"Considering you're a centurion, I hope those days are behind you." The surrounding rankers and young officers laughed, smiles creasing their faces as they recognized the many qualities of the man they served.
"Of course, sir, of course. But sir, the reason we wished to speak with you." Two more men brought out an object covered in a heavy linen sheet. "We've all seen your armor, sir. And, uh, well, uh. We all appreciate that you wear it, that you show what you have been through. But we also saw you after the night attack. And well, we, uh…you deserve better, sir." He placed his hand on the object. "Originally, we formed it with Noric steel, sir. It is the best. But the coloring was too bright, sir, it did not fit your personality, I suppose if I'm say such." Not being corrected, he continued. "Because of that, we had the craftsmen cover it with a thin layer of dark leather, sir. We have that nice and burnished now, at least as best we could." The soldier removed the rough cloth covering; under it was muscle cuirass.
The leather chosen matched the darkness of night. The torso seemed to match his to an obscenely accurate level, with the leather purposely scored and marred to represent the scars it would hide. Very few people could have revealed such, but he could see Dione, the Greek slave watching from a distance. They turned the armor to reveal its frontage. Percy felt his throat clench. A silver trident aligned to the center of the armor, its three prongs spreading wide across the formed pectoral muscles. Flanking the ancient weapon, two Roman eagles reared, their talons outstretched.
"We do apologize at its weight, sir. But it should protect you well. We men of the Twenty-first wished to show our loyalty and respect." More centurions approached from the crowd. "The other legions wished to do the same." The Thirteenth passed to him a waistband, long pteruges of leather and bronze hanging from it. Each bore the imprint of a trident. The Tenth presented a scutum, its wooden, leather, and canvas form covered in a dark lacquer and baring images of eagles and pegasi. Finally, the Second, the legion whose lost honor Perseus forgave and indeed returned to them partially with his execution of their failed commander. They presented him with a helmet. Attic styled, like his previous one, it far surpassed the ancient one from Philippi. Having recognized his dislike of the wings so often a part of such a helm, apparent by his removal of them, the craftsmen had forgone them. Instead, a rearing horse adorned the front of the crest, dyed horsehair abutting it in the formation of a Greek-style crest in the same hue as his cloak. The helmet bore the same lacquer as the shield.
The appointed spokesmen began again. "Rome named you our commander, sir. We have accepted you as our leader. But, with this armor, we wanted to show our commitment to being your men."
"You honor me," Percy said quietly, his throat still tight. He cleared his throat and spoke again, his voice carrying over many of the hundreds of men about him, many of them with exposed wounds and bandages. "You all honor me. When men speak of Rome, they speak of great marble monuments and stone buildings. I speak of things no less firm. I speak of the steel of Roman arms and the iron will of those who wield them. I look at you all, battered and haggard. Here! I see Rome! For here are those that keep Romans safe. Words in the Senate may dictate where we go, the bastards before me carry those words forward. I was told as young man I was half good as the bastards at Alesia. In turn, I've you you're half as good as bastards at Philippi and Alexandria and in a half-dozen other battles in Gaul. I tell you now, before the gods themselves! I would take you magnificent bastards to Pluto's Gates and I would expect to win." Silence reigned for a moment. A single man, his head bandaged and relying upon a comrade to stand upright, stood.
"And we would fucking follow, sir!" The cheers rang out amongst the legionaries as Percy raised his hand in acknowledgement. Without bidding, men of the legions began to help him into his new armor and a horse was brought forward. He climbed upon it. The cheers began anew and continued despite his guiding of the horse toward his cousin.
"How does one deserve such men?" Percy mused, but he could see his cousin paid him no mind, distracted. "What bothers you, brother?"
"Will you not speak of his death?" Percy knew he spoke of Tiberius.
"No, not until the battle is over and only maybe then." Percy could tell his cousin was not happy with the response. "What else is it?"
"Do you ever think about the things we do in life following us into the next?" Jason's eyes were cast down to the blood staining his armor and sword. His cousin's lay upon the city soon to suffer Rome's wrath. If the Greek defenders could not hold, all the Greeks in Athens would bear the cost of rebellion. That was the way of war. Had not the Greeks themselves stated, "The strong do what they will, the weak suffer what they must?" Percy now broke his gaze, his eyes now turning to his more thoughtful relative.
"What we do in this life stays with us forever. Not even the Lethe can erase it all. Our actions echo throughout ages, Jason. Even should you not remember upon rebirth, the histories of our wars and acts live on. Regardless of ow short our lives, our deeds will live for eternity. That is how we mortals live forever; gods are always, they are not remembered but known in the limited way a mortal can know a god. We mortals get remembered, our essence carried forward by the words and deeds of those who follow. We get remembered, our deeds are spoken, and in that we become immortal. And of that, dear cousin, even the gods are envious."
"How can you believe such a thing, brother?"
"Because I know a dozen that I never fought. In the heat of battle, I see another. My sword swings in Gaul, yet my mind sees a Persian upon the end of my dory at Marathon. We sailed off of Sicily and instead I believed myself defending the homeland at Salamis. The Lethe cannot keep these battles from me. I see them across time, Jason. Or at least across lives."
"Well, it fits, I suppose."
"What do you mean?"
"You clearly are not very good at accepting your station. Of course, you elected for rebirth to try for the Isles of the Blessed instead of being happy in Elysium." The two laughed for a moment, then their eyes returned to the city.
"I am not sure this life will earn such."