Percy – V

Percy drank his water, as the battalion camped in a nearby forest. It had been a month, since they had landed on the beaches of Troy.

Skirmishes between the army initially took place regularly, as both sides suffered some losses, although none had really played to their strengths, yet. There were one or two attempts to scale the Trojan walls, but all had resulted in a devastating failure. But that was to be expected.

The armies were still determined, the guards alert, and their vigour for battle was still flaming brightly, after all, it had only been a month. The Trojans too had attempted a night raid on the still developing Achaean camp, and although the Greeks did suffer heavier losses, they were eventually able to establish a strong hold on the beach, with trenches and other traps dug out to slow down the Trojans.

But as many as the losses may have been, the exact number did not matter, as one thing had been seen. The war was going to continue for a long time, with each side of the war being more or less equally strong. The Achaeans may have the number, but the Trojans had their walls, and mainly, Hector.

Hector was, according to Percy, one of the best generals he had seen. Hector was the strongest warrior the Trojans had, and the lack of strength he possessed in comparison to Achilles and his curse, Hector balanced with strategy.

Till now, Hector had never faced Achilles head on, and wisely so, Percy thought. Some may call that cowardice, but Percy thought that was smart, as only a suicidal person would want to take on Achilles. That was how powerful the curse of the Styx was, and Percy knew it very well.

Hector had strategically read every move of Achilles, skilfully avoiding him in a contest of strength. Instead, he would place himself on the complete opposite side of Achilles, dominating his part of the battle, making up for the losses suffered from Achilles' rampage, and retreating as soon as Achilles made his way towards him. It was a sound strategy, Percy thought. Hector had also led the only night siege on the Achaean camp, burning away a significant amount of the Achaean supplies, costing them dearly. Which led to Percy's present.

After the loss of valuable supplies, Agamemnon was livid, and after insulting Achilles, he had sent Achilles and his Myrmidons along with the army of Lebadea to Pedasus, an ally of Troy, to sack the city, collect all the valuables supplies, and block their trade route to Troy. It was a minor city, technically speaking, and wouldn't have that big of an effect on Troy physically, but the start of raids on cities would definitely put them on alert.

The Myrmidons should really have been enough to sack the city alone, but Percy had guessed, or observed really, from all the hateful glances Agamemnon thew towards Hippodamas, he hated the guy, and just wanted an excuse to send Hippodamas away.

"Oi, Percy, its time." Kostas shouted to him, gesturing him to come along.

Kostas was one of the friends he had made during his time in the army. His friend circle included three more people, Petros, Andreas and Theodoros. The thought of having made friends, in a war, put a heavy smile on his face.

The situation was all too familiar. All of Kostas, Petros and Theodoros were between the ages of twenty to twenty-five, while Andreas was merely sixteen. All of them were young, going out on a battle to fight against enemies possibly way stronger than them.

It reminded him of camp. Of Annabeth, Nico, Beckendorf, Selena, and-

Percy shook his head. There was no point of thinking about that now. He had work to do.

"Took you long enough." Petros commented dryly. Petros was a relatively short guy, with blonde hair. He usually used a pair of daggers as his primary weapon, something quite uncommon, as he had seen in this era.

Percy looked around, as he saw his complete group of friends, ready to march. Kostas and Theodoros both used swords, whereas Andreas, the youngest of their group, was an archer. The four of them excluding Andreas were part of the frontline, the 'dispensable soldiers' sent for the first few days of battle. They had met after the third or fourth skirmish with the Trojans. He still remembered the fallen looks on their faces after witnessing the deaths of many of their comrades. They had formed an unspoken bond, one that belonged to survivors.

Andreas was someone they had taken under their wing, when they saw him whimpering behind a tent alone. Andreas was scared, and they could not let someone suffer alone.

"Well, its already past midnight. I suppose it's time." Theodoros stated, as the soldier began to gather around.

Hippodamas stood in the centre as usual, ready to instruct them for the upcoming battle.

"I hope you had a good rest, friends." Hippodamas started, as he looked around his army.

"We were able to scout the perimeter of Pedasus, and the strategy has been decided. We have a total strength of around two thousand one hundred soldiers. Half of the twenty-five hundred Myrmidons that have come for this raid, that is around twelve hundred and about nine hundred of us. The city has sent half of its soldiers to Troy for battle, the exact number is not known, but they should not have more than seven to eight hundred soldiers currently garrisoned at this stronghold. Considering the strength of the Myrmidons, this should practically be slaughter."

"We will use this advantage in numbers, and brute force our way through the northern and southern gates, while stationing some of our men near the east and west gates to prevent their escape. Station yourselves near the northern gate, and stay low for an hour. When you hear a horn, half of you will climb the walls, while the others wait for the gates to open. And then we sack the city. Do you understand?"

A murmur of yesses went through the crowd as Hippodamas nodded and walked away.

"Seems easy enough." Petros commented lightly.

Percy agreed. Once the gates to city opened, rivers of blood were going to flow. This was a part of war that Percy hated. In their time, the fight had always been against monsters or titans or giants. But in a war between humans, civilians were the ones who suffered the most.

The funds to supply the army with weapons, food and various other amenities often came at the cost of the civilians' livelihood. Once they enter, men and children were going to be killed, women would probably be taken as hostages or war wives. The families were going to be broken, and Percy was supporting it.

Percy closed his eyes, as he tried to calm his breathing. Did he really want to do this? Was being part of someone else's war necessary? Yes, he was not a bad person, and he was not going to harm anyone other than the soldiers, but he would still be supporting the cruel. Did he want his name dragged in this?

Percy's consciousness nagged on his heart, as the turmoil dug deeper and deeper.

Annabeth. For Annabeth. These people were going to die anyway, whether he was here or not.

Yeah, there was not much he could do to avoid it. He has to do it. The Gods were too intertwined with this battle. He had to mark his presence.

A horn rang, as Percy along with half of their army rushed forward, as grappling hooks were hurled up, lodging themselves into the concrete of the stronghold.

It was chaos.

Sudden shouting, ringing of the city bells, curses flying about in the air as arrows were launched onto the invaders.

Sardos slapped himself awake, as he unsheathed his sword for the inevitable moment when the invaders successfully climbed up. As a thirty-three-year-old veteran, who had fought three wars for Pedasus, he could clearly spot their disadvantage in numbers.

But numbers weren't the only thing that won wars. He sidestepped, as a pot of boiling oil was hurled down the side, as a poor enemy soldier fell down to his painful death.

Sardos smiled as he looked at his soldiers' work. It was inevitable, yes, but the walls of Pedasus were strong. Not that high, but they could still hurt. After a few hours when they were finally penetrated by the regular oncoming attacks, which he doubted the enemy could continue, they will fight to an inevitable victory.

Sardos laughed humourlessly, as he marvelled at their strength.

"Agamemnon was foolish to send an army to a gated city. He should have sent his forces loot a village in Tereia, rather than raid a fort. I, a veteran of this city, promise you all, that we shall win thi-"

The world swirled as pain shot up Sardos' abdomen. He fell on his back, as he looked up at his killer.

Sardos' breath wavered at the site before him, as he looked at his killer with fear.

"Achilles."

"Yours Truly, in flesh." Achilles said with a mock salute, as he smiled at his victim.

"Why are you here Achilles? Why would you, Achilles, their ace himself trouble yourself on a meagre mission to loot a city?"

"I wonder that too my friend," Achilles said as he took a seat on the ground beside the dying man, casually surveying the area as his fellow myrmidons created a stream of blood down the city walls.

"Not just me, half of my valued myrmidons have been sent here. That shit Agamemnon! I hate that motherfucker!"

"Wha-What?" Sardos stammered out, as his limbs trembled. His vision got blurry. Myrmidons. They were ruthless barbarians when it came to war. He would've never expected the Greeks to send such a crucial part of their army to run such errands. But if the myrmidons indeed where the ones assigned to this raid, they were truly doomed.

Sardos' vision blurred as he saw Achilles stand up and move on to continue the slaughter. The screams surrounding him dulled as his own warm blood surrounded him like a warm blanket, as he accepted death's embrace.

Thanatos watched, as he collected the souls of the dead.

Every time. The same outcome. Eras repeating one after the other. The soul named Sardos in his recently ended life depicted any man's fate.

One second, breathing, the other, dead. Whether you are courageous enough to fight like a beast, or you wet your pants and sit in a corner. The outcome was the same.

Whether you are special or not will gain you but a few moments on this vicious world. Thanatos pitied the humans. Shackled to their ugly end.

Mankind. Life. Sometimes he wondered if what Prometheus created was a boon, or a curse.

Or perhaps, it was a boon, that man made into a curse?

Hippodamas stood in the throne room, as he saw Achilles seat himself on the throne. The king, a seventy-year-old man, killed by none other than Achilles himself.

"Take his body away, and let the dead pass away peacefully with proper rites." Achilles commanded to his men, as they worked to collect the bodies and let the poor souls pass on to the underworld safely.

Hippodamas watched, as his brother bent down to pick the fallen crown, and idly put it on his head.

"What do you say, Patroclus, do I not look like a strong king, rather than that fat pig Agamemnon?" Achilles exclaimed as they laughed at his statement.

Hippodamas couldn't really understand Achilles. At moments he seemed honourable, too mature for his age, but sometimes, that reckless, entitled kid full of anger took its shape. The figure of him, sitting on the throne casually with a leg on the armrest, as his body was soaked with his enemy's blood, as it dripped to the ground slowly while joked with Patroclus.

It was terrifying.

"Achilles," Hippodamas called out, "Let us rest for today, we shall collect the grain from their storehouses for the next two days, and follow through with our journey back to the beach of Troy. What do you say?"

"Ahhh," Achilles sighed as he stood up from the throne and started walking out of the throne room, gesturing Hippodamas to follow along.

Achilles put his arm around Hippodamas, as he said,

"You are too uptight, brother. Heck, the stress lines you have developed at your age make you look like you are in your forties, doesn't it Patroclus?"

Patroclus nodded along, as they continued to walk out the castle.

"Relax, Hippodamas. If you worry about the fat king, fear not. He may be spiteful and cruel, but even I must admit, he isn't incompetent. I am sure he won't singlehandedly lose the war while we are away for a few days."

"But, its war, Achilles." Hippodamas interjected, worried about their further actions. "The more time we spend here, the lesser troops they have at the beach. And, staying here is a risk. Yes, we have lost a very small number of men, but manning this fort with the Myrmidons and the Lebadean army is waste of skilled manpower. We can send some smaller faction to man this court and help on th-"

"Hippodamas," Achilles intervened as they stopped talking. "As for the waste of manpower, it was Agamemnon himself who commanded me and my men to embark on this mission of looting around, which would've made sense if this was a bigger nation, but the fact is, it wasn't. It was a slaughter here. Heck, the Myrmidons could've done the same without your people. And as for it being a risk here," Achilles turned as he looked at Hippodamas, his face devoid of any emotion.

"Even God himself can't save the fool that dares attack Achilles himself. That's not bravery, or confidence. That's a fact." Achilles said as he stared down Hippodamas.

Hippodamas gulped at the declaration of the man in front of him. The mere aura and confidence that Achilles surrounded himself with, it was like he was not a human, but A GOD AMONG HUMANS.

"But, Achi-"

Achilles raised his palm, as he silenced Hippodamas.

"You and your army are free to do whatever they want. The Myrmidons shall rest for a week, and then we will start our journey back. That's final."

Achilles suddenly perked, as he looked to his right. A beautiful girl outside a well. Filling up water as she looked around, trying to watch out for any of the 'invaders' that had invaded them.

"Well, I shall leave. It seems someone has finally caught my eye." Achilles nodded at Patroclus and looked one last time at Hippodamas,

"Relax a little, brother. Would do good to your greying hairs." Achilles smiled as he winked at him, and walked towards the maiden.

Hippodamas watched, as Achilles respectfully approached the maiden. The girl looked scared, but it only took Achilles a few seconds to put a smile on her face.

"He is a charming man, isn't he?"

Hippodamas looked beside as he saw Patroclus look at him.

"Well, I can see why women like him, if that's what you are asking. And my hair is not greying!" Hippodamas exclaimed as he ran a hand through his hair.

Patroclus laughed, but that laugh soon died down.

Patroclus glanced at the retreating figures; his expression unreadable. 'You'll see it, Hippodamas. You'll see how far they'll go when the war's over. It's not just the battlefield that claims its toll. You haven't yet witnessed what's to come, Hippodamas."

Hippodamas turned, as he looked questioningly at Patroclus.

Patroclus sighed as he put his hand on his face.

"Achilles is honourable. He isn't perfect, and has his flaws, but his honour remains intact. He may take a beautiful girl as war prize, but he usually charmed his way into their heart. If not, he was humble enough to accept the rejection, and usually assign them menial tasks, or free them if they were no longer needed. However, the other Myrmidons…"

Patroclus left it at that, but Hippodamas understood. The soldiers were sometimes lucky to be granted quick deaths, as the fate of slaves could be even worse. He could not even vouch for his own men and just hoped that they wouldn't cross the line.

The rules of pillaging were ugly and favoured the victors. Spoils of wars did not just limit to inanimate objects, and how much Hippodamas hated them, he did not have the sway to deny them.

Hippodamas looked at the sky, as he remembered Lady Artemis. May she send help for those who can't fight for themselves.

It was a scream that made Percy rush into the dark alley near him. He was doing his job, helping the injured reach the medic to get tended, when a scream alerted him.

Which got him to the present as he grabbed a nearby lamp and rushed in the alley.

A woman was pushed against a wall as a soldier held her hands. Tears were streaming down her face.

It took only a split second, as the soldier noticed the new source of light before it fell from Percy's hand. Darkness overtook the alley.

And a punch was thrown.

The soldier wheezed as all the air flew out of his lungs, as a dark silhouette continued to beat him as he screamed. The woman ran away, and after a few moments, soon footsteps followed as others came around with lamps in their hands.

Percy let the men restrain him willingly, as they held his hand and stopped him, after all, his job was done. The offender lay there with a bloody face, as Myrmidons surrounded the injured guy.

"What the fuck is the meaning of this!" A Myrmidon exclaimed, as he tended the soldier, apparently a fellow Myrmidon.

"He was forcing himself upon a woman." Percy stated blankly.

The Myrmidon sneered. "Spoils of war, kid. We take what's ours. What, you think you can stop it?" Percy stared at the man as they continued to bicker and pushed him out of the alley with his hands behind his back.

This. This was something he had yet to come across. Something he dreaded. In the wars he fought, they were lucky enough to be fighting mostly against monsters. Yes, there were moments of torture, like holding the sky and other brief moments of captivity.

But this side of war, he had not yet seen, something that couldn't be fought with swords and shields.

He clenched his fists as he was dragged away towards the throne room. From his periphery, he could see Kostas shout his name as a crowd soon gathered around him.

"Oi! What do you think you are doing?" Kostas shouted as he approached them, a hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Stay away, boy. This man attacked a fellow Myrmidon. He shall answer to Achilles for this act."

"Why don't you mention what your friend was doing?" Percy spat out as he sneered at the Myrmidon.

"Do you think your people are above us barbarians then, huh? No, you fuckers are the same. Now come one, keep moving."

Kostas removed his sword from the hilt as he looked around, seeking support from the soldiers of Lebadea. Slowly, a few of them gathered around, scared, albeit wanting to side with a fellow soldier.

The myrmidon looked and coughed out a laugh. "You guys want to fight? Us? The Myrmidons? Did you not see the slaughter that befell upon Pedasus? Well, who am I to teach the foolish. Die, then."

The myrmidons pulled their sword out as a standstill occurred between two sides. The tension was rising, as each side wait for the other to make a move.

"STOP!"

All the people turned towards the voice. It was Patroclus himself, a sword in hand.

"I have been informed of the matter. This problem shall be taken to Achilles and Hippodamas to be resolved."

"But, Patroclus, he attacked one of us! And these people dare raise their swords against us! We sha-"

"Shut up, you fool." Patroclus cut the soldier, anger in his eyes. Achilles' temper may guide the battlefield to victory, but it was often Patroclus whose voice mediated the problems, patching the soft cracks left behind after Achilles. "Whatever the matter be, instead of resolving it, or seeking someone of authority, you raise a sword against your own side. Bloodlust aside, do you understand the implications? Unnecessary loss of men. Agamemnon aside, even Achilles would not be happy about it."

Patroclus looked around at the gathered people. All heads bowed down in shame. Except one.

Green eyes stared into his like a storm, with unyielding defiance. Patroclus looked at the man in front of him. His hands were tied behind him with a rope, and he was surrounded by Myrmidons, yet his face didn't show a hint of fear. Instead, the man exuded a quite fury that made Patroclus pause. This was no trembling soldier wanting to 'play hero'. This was someone who acted on his beliefs, even in the shadow of death.

'Interesting.' Patroclus thought. Not many had that sort of defiance in them. Those that did, nearly all of them were fools walking towards their death. But there were always exceptions.

"Get the boy, and take him to the kings. Now."

Percy sighed as he tried to calm the anger simmering inside him. As the clouded emotions started to clear, he could feel the weight of his actions-not with regret, but with the sharp awareness of their consequences.

The situation confused him. Where was the line—the point at which he could allow himself to ignore the atrocities unfolding around him in this war? Did such a line even exist? And if he ever found it, how long could he keep pretending not to see?

Percy shook his head as he tried to push the dilemma aside. What's done is done. There was no undoing it now. With a deep breath, Percy calmed his mind. After all, it was finally time to meet the first user of the curse of Styx-this time very much alive.