The Remnant

Prophecy and Fate

It had taken a day for Perseus' host to reach the mountain, but as it came into view his men began to murmur. Dark thoughts and doubt crept into the Spartan warriors, however, they spoke of such things in hushed tones lest their young leader hear them. He had known they would not like the idea of passing it by, but as the king had given the order himself there was little other choice.

Mount Othrys was huge in stature and dwarfed its closest neighbour in height tenfold. In the ancient tales of old, it had been the stronghold of the Titanomachy under Kronos, the lord of time. While Perseus knew there were many Titans still around, Kronos was not one of them, and so he realized the threat the mountain posed was minimal, aside from a few wandering monsters here and there. If he wished to journey through the garden of the Hesperides, past the great hundred-headed beast Ladon, then up the long winding path he knew he would come upon Atlas himself holding up the sky. While he knew the Titan had done wrong, he pitied the poor soul. To be forced to sustain such a burden was a cruel jest by the Gods, but then again, the Gods themselves could be the cruellest of all beings combined when they felt the need.

Percy was beginning to grow uneasy with the lack of communication from Olympus as of late. Before the Spartan demigod left for his commanding post for the campaign in Thessaly, his father had come to him saying he had urgent news, but that he could not yet tell him as he needed more time to assure himself of the circumstances surrounding the topic. This had been over a half a year ago now, and still Perseus had received no word from the God of the sea.

He feared not for Poseidon's safety, after all, such a thing would be silly. Why should a mortal worry for the life of a God? Still, the subject troubled the young Spartan deeply. What had his father needed to tell him that had been so important at the time, yet now seemed to hold little priority in the God's daily routines that he hadn't even the time of day to visit his son about it again? Questions on questions constantly lined Perseus' head, all without answers, all riddles in their own right.

Alas, they were not to be answered in his given location or task at hand so, for the time being, he believed it best to shove them aside for a later date.

I've been doing that a lot lately it seems. He thought to himself, Maybe too often.

As his army marched on, the lack of cold air had become ever apparent as the mid day's heat took sway over the temperature around the Spartans, and soon it became too unbearable for them to handle. Professional lifelong soldiers they may have been, but all felt the basic needs of a human being, and even those of half Godly descent could fight the warmth no longer without a brief pause.

Pulling off his helmet and wiping a pool of sweat from his brow atop the back of his noble horse, Perseus called for a full halt, and the men marching behind him stopped as one, unmoving like the now raised fist of their Polemarch.

Percy turned to one of his nearest Hoplites. The man was clad in the armour and gear of his personal demigod defenders, with his helm adorned by an ornate laurel wreath of matching material in golden bronze rather than the plume or plain coverage of a common higher class Hoplite. The man gave a deep bow as Percy spoke.

"Have commander Andros alert the men that we will be making camp here, if only for a small portion of our time. I would say the men need to rest with this bloody heat, but I too must admit I too am bothered by it."

"It would seem my father is upset about something or flying too low again. More than likely the latter, or I have another accidental sibling on the way." The man joked.

"Aye, sounds about right." Percy smiled at the son of Apollo as the man hurried off to follow his order.

He dismounted his regal black steed in a quick manner and took up his reins in his left hand.