Chapter 7: Wise Counsel

“If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.”

-- Sun Tzu, The Art of War, translated by Lionel Giles, 1910. Originally published by Allandale Online Publishing. Copyright: Public Domain.

Brontes, Arges, and Steropes (the Cyclopes) stared at their Hecatoncheires brethren: Briares, Cottus, and Gyges.

“What should we do?” Arges wondered. “These sons of Cronos seem to want us safe.”

After being liberated from the prison of a pit that was Tartarus, the unique siblings of Gaia and Ouranos found themselves unsure of what to do. Cruelty by Ouranos had locked them away, indifference from Cronos had kept them there, but if their nephews were to be believed, they had been freed to help correct the trajectory of Mount Olympus.

In that, there could be no higher calling. However, as once-prisoners, they knew the fundamental truth that words were one thing and actions were another.

“No. They want us on their side,” Cottus countered. “They mean to control us when we are not meant to be controlled.”

“They are asking for assistance, not compliance,” Brontes said.

“That is the great difference between us Hecatoncheires from you Cyclopes,” Briares said. “We have been trapped by our father, betrayed by our brother, and we have no intention of seeing if the next generation will do the thing.

“And you’re of one mind?” Steropes asked.

There was no conversation or fanfare. Together, the Hecatoncheires all nodded in unison.

“But you will continue to help us with these weapons for them?” Brontes inquired.

The Hecatoncheires all nodded once more.

After a moment’s silence, it was Briares who spoke up for them.

“But when the time comes for our nephews to fight our brother, we intend to leave.”

The Cyclopes looked at one another. While they wanted to talk further on this, they respected their hundred handed brothers. After all, time together in solitude had brought them a modicum of comfort in a desolate landscape where they had been forgotten and abandoned.

They nodded to their Hecatoncheires counterparts as they worked on the weapons for the sons of Cronos and their allies.

The clash between gods and Titans was coming, and they knew without these tools, the young gods would never be victorious. These weapons would be their finest works to be remembered for all eternity.

When Iapetus did not leave Olympus, Cronos had to think quickly. Well, the truth was they both could not think quickly, and he did not. However, as the Titan of Time, all he needed to do was focus and use his large pool of divine power to slow the movement of time in Greece. No one would notice but him.

Rewinding time on outside divine beings was near impossible. The divine nature of the Cronos’ family made it impossible for Cronos’ temporal influence to affect them. As such, he could not resurrect Iapetus by rewinding time.

Laughter almost overtook him when he considered such a notion. Even if he could, the Titan King would not want to. How could his brother have been so passive? Moreover, Iapetus had seemed so against violence that he might have turned the others against him.

In the events that were coming, Cronos suspected that violence between his sons and himself and his brothers would break out. There was some intangible sensation that ran over him that communicated that what was coming would be far greater than his own conflict with his father. If that were the case, a united front was the only way Olympus would win.

He slowed the temporal span to a crawl to stretch a moment into hours. This would provide him with time to think. Cronos had to be sure of his next course. His rash decision to decapitate Iapetus put Cronos in a precarious predicament. If the other Titans discovered that he murdered their brethren, they might support Zeus’ reign.

Actually, it was worse than that. If they found out about his act of siblicide, they might decide that it was easier to remove his head from his neck just as he had done with Iapetus and Ouranos.

That outcome was unacceptable to the Titan King.

The easiest solution was to blame the murder on Zeus, but Cronos had to think that through. One misstep and he would be in another situation with his brothers as he had been with Iapetus. The King of Olympus was powerful, but he could not not defeat Hyperion and Crius at once, let alone with Oceanus and Coeus backing them.

How had Iapetus been caught off guard by this child? How had he been decapitated? If the answer was not strong enough to stand against scrutiny, Cronos’ reign was over.

He sat upon his throne, lost in contemplation.

He needed to be certain of what he would say.

The ‘how’ was simple enough; Zeus had been given aid and returned. Who had aided him? Cronos had to think on that subject.

Rhea was out, so was Gaia. Rhea was on Olympus at nearly all times. Gaia was on her island and a recluse. She did not like to have visitors.

There was Oceanus, but Oceanus did not interfere with anything unless it interfered with his precious sea kingdom. Cronos knew that from the Pontus incident.

The Cronos considered the shaking of Olympus. The Cyclopes and Hecatoncheires had helped hold up the Underworld to the mortal realm. They allied, they must have in Cronos’ estimation, with Zeus, and Cronos’ wayward son must have freed them so he could have their weapons. After all, the torch, scythe and gauntlets had made a difference for Cronos and his siblings against Ouranos. Perhaps after escaping Cronos’ grasp, Zeus had found out the story of Ouranos’ defeat by his children, and Zeus went out to find the ones who made the weapons.

It was the easiest solution. He would have to come up with some other explanations, but regardless of what was going on, he had to have options.

Poseidon, Hades, and Zeus returned to the entrance of the cave at around the same time after their individual tasks. Poseidon had the Oceanid Metis by his side, Hades had nothing with disappointment coating his facial features, and Zeus had information.

In the background were the Cyclopes and Hecatoncheires.

Zeus was the first to speak. Looking at Metis, he lowered his head.

“Who is this?”

“I am Metis, daughter of Oceanus and Tethys,” Metis said for herself.

She was not one to wait for one like Poseidon to speak for her. After all, in a family with hundreds of siblings, it was easy to be lost in the shuffle. This arena was smaller, but she would not be outshined simply because these sons had a right to the most powerful seat in Chaos’ creation.

“My father sent me to offer you counsel in the battles to come.”

“Why would we need counsel?” Hades asked, gruffly.

He crossed his arms. It was clear that he was altogether unimpressed with this child of Oceanus and Tethys.

“This shall be the first war,” Metis declared simply.

“War?” Poseidon wondered.

While Hades often insulted his immediate younger brother, the looks on Hades and Zeus’ faces mirrored their brother’s confusion.

“When two people fight one another, it is a fight,” Metis said, sighing in exhaustion. Her confidence and readiness to speak told the sons of Cronos that she had given this explanation before. “When more people join, it is a battle. When there are many battles, it is a war.”

“And you have a lot of experience in this?” Zeus asked, somewhat skeptical.

“Not with gods, but with animals. We can learn from the smaller beings. Ant colonies will battle other colonies for territory. Lions eat lesser animals. Conflict exists. We, as higher beings, have a responsibility to learn from those experiences.”

“Then what are you the titan of?” Hades wondered.

His stern disposition had never left even if he had shrugged when he agreed with her point of view.

“Wisdom, intelligence,” Metis said simply. “I want you all to succeed but only if we learn from the mistakes we make and the mistakes of our predecessors.”

Hades and Zeus understood the usefulness of what she said and nodded their heads in agreement to her.

After which, Zeus turned to Hades.

“You seem off. How did your adventure in the Underworld go?”

“I believe Nyx will help us,” Hades said.

A mild disappointment coated his words while a feeling of failure overtook his facial features. He lowered his head before shaking it.

“I cannot be sure though,” he went on, trying to encapsulate the Primordial of Night and her intentions into mete sentences. “She is so old and powerful that everything she does in her own time. If she helps us, she will decide when.”

Zeus leaned back annoyed. If there was anyone that understood the nuances and depths of a child of Chaos, it was him.

“It makes sense,” Zeus said with a nod. “She is a Primordial being. They answer to no one.”

“And what of you, Zeus?” Poseidon wondered. “Have you anything for us?”

“Gaia said much the same as Metis here. We must learn, be careful, but she will not interfere for or against us when it comes to Cronos.”

“But why not?” Hades wondered, slightly angered.

“Because Cronos has Rhea’s daughters,” Metis pointed out. “If Gaia loves Rhea, and loves you all enough to help you, then she loves her granddaughters just as much. To love them means she cannot aid you.”

The brothers understood that much of it and conceded to her logic.

“What should we do next?” Poseidon asked.

No one had an immediate answer. For reasons they did not understand just yet, the sons of Cronos and Rhea turned to Metis.

“You should see what they have for you,” Metis said, pointing to the Cyclopes and Hecatoncheires.

The brothers saw the layout of weapons.

“For you Hades, we have the Hooks,” Brontes said. “They were made from part of our chain. As such, these hooks and the smaller chains, which will be wielded by you, will be indestructible and can survive great heat. And for closer combat, we have constructed you a bident. It will work like a spear, but as Zeus had the thunderbolt, which has a single point at the tip, and Poseidon has a trident, which has three points, we believe you should have a weapon with two points.”

“You would think as the oldest, I would have one or three,” Hades mused.

Arges laughed. “We did consider that, but your weapons should not be made because of who is oldest but by which qualities suit each of you best.

“And for me?” Poseidon wondered, as the second son of Cronos.

Brontes answered. “For you Poseidon, we have made a sword. This Sword of the Sea will harness your powers for when you cannot use your trident. It will not harness the ocean as well as your trident but it shall never break and will harness your powers when you cannot readily use your trident.”

“When would that happen?” Poseidon asked.

Brontes let out a single bark of laughter.

“An enemy might remove the trident. Maybe wielding the trident becomes awkward because you will need your opposite hand. Circumstances can change in the heat of anger. I should think battles will be no different.”

Poseidon bowed his head in respectful concession.

“As for you Zeus, we offer a golden gauntlet. It can be used as a way to defend yourself with one hand while you harness your thunderbolt with the other hand,” Steropes explained.

Zeus graciously accepted the fist, seeing it was a little unwieldy, but he would learn. They all would.

“Begging my pardon,” Metis said, interjecting. “But what of those other weapons?”

Behind the Cyclopes and Hecatoncheires, there was a shield, a bow with a quiver of arrows, a staff, gauntlets, and an ax.

Cottus the Hecatoncheires laughed. “I see she is the smart one.”

Gyges looked her up and down. “Which one should it be for her, then?”

Briares reached into the pile and handed Metis a shield, which looked a little like the sun. In the center of the shield was a face of some kind. “This is the Aegis, your shield,” the Hecatoncheires said.

Metis accepted the gift.

“As for the rest, you will need to decide for yourselves who will be given these weapons, Sons of Cronos,” Briares went on. “As for me and my Hecatoncheires brothers, we shall depart these lands before the battle begins.”

“But why?” Zeus wondered.

“We do not distrust you, nor do we mean you ill will, son of Cronos,” Briares explained, “but we do not wish for conflict. We wish to be far away no matter who is the winner.”

“But we need allies,” Poseidon protested.

It was Metis who intervened on the Hecatoncheires’ behalf. “Yes but allies should be on your side because that is what they choose to be, not because they are forced, Poseidon. Let them leave in peace.”

While Poseidon was still wanting to keep the Hecatoncheires on their side, he could see this would not be easily accomplished.

“Metis is right,” Hades said. He unfolded his arms to make a motion to the smiths. “We need them, but you and I have been prisoners before. You know we cannot entrap people to do our will.”

“And come now, Brother, they have given us help when they had little reason to do so. This is all we can expect without becoming like our father.”

Poseidon could see that he had been outvoted. He felt that this was wrong deep down. The problem was that he was struggling to articulate his thoughts in a meaningful way for his brothers.

As the Hecatoncheires left, Hades, Poseidon, and Zeus stared at the small collection of weaponry.

The staff, bow and arrows, gauntlets, and axe would need to find a home.

“Father!” Prometheus cried out.

All of the sons of Iapetus (Menoetius, Atlas, Prometheus, and Epimetheus) came to Olympus accompanied by the other brothers of Cronos when the ruler had called for them. Hyperion, Crius, Coeus, and even Oceanus made their way to Olympus to see the decapitated body of Iapetus.

The act was easy enough to do. Cronos wept and explained that Iapetus came to Olympus, seeking to advise Cronos in the battles ahead as well as asking for some information about his sons.

Atlas and Menoetius quickly pledged themselves to Cronos. Kneeling before the leader that had stood up to his usurping sons had made it easy to give him their allegiance.

Prometheus held back his faith. For him, the issue was not the murderer of his father. The problem was that his father had been murdered and would no longer be able to give his sons his time and advice.

“Please, Lord Cronos, let us take our father to the mortal realm to bury him.”

Upon Cronos’ declaration, the sons of Iapetus carried the body down Mount Olympus.

When the children were far enough, Cronos turned to Oceanus.

“Do you see the threat my sons pose to us, to Olympus?” Cronos asked.

His brother’s absence from Olympus was no longer acceptable. He needed his brothers at his back.

“Fish shit!” Oceanus countered. “I don’t believe it.”

“Excuse me!” Cronos turned, anger flaring.

“That blow, those markings on Iapetus’ neck, they are just like Ouranos’ neck! If you expect me to believe that you didn’t kill Iapetus, you’re out of your mind!” Oceanus cried out.

Cronos shook his head. “I would never turn my scythe on any of you. We fought to rule! We defeated our father! I would never betray you, any of you!”

Crius stood between Oceanus and Cronos, as it seemed they might come to blows. When Oceanus realized that none of his brothers would see things his way, he waved them off and walked away. A pillar of blue light shimmered as he returned to his palace in the domain down below.

“Should we not go after him?” Hyperion wondered.

Coeus shook his head. “No. We have fights to prepare for. We should aim our focus there, not on Oceanus. When we have won, we will repair our relationship with our brother.”

The other Titans nodded in agreement.

“What should we do first then, Coeus?” Cronos asked.

In the caves of Othrys, the sons of Cronos sat in quiet contemplative thought.

“With the Hundred-Handed ones gone, what is our next move?” Hades wondered.

His gaze went from Zeus to Metis. They were the more knowledgeable pair when it came to the outside world and the interactions of the divine. In that arena, it would do him a disservice not to lean on their expertise.

“Do you not have siblings?” Metis wondered.

“We have sisters,” Zeus offered after a moment. “But they were raised by our mother. We can’t know if they will be capable of assisting us in combat.”

“Why would they not be?” Metis asked, an edge of annoyance in her voice. She looked at Zeus with suspicion, expecting a good answer from the lightning prince.

She stared at this prince of Olympus and was entirely unimpressed. Through the years, Metis had gone to Gaia’s island in curiosity. How could she not? An escaped son was being trained in secret on the island of the Primordial Mother Earth was a novelty worth investigating.

While she had never met Zeus on the island, Metis had conversed with Gaia many times. The Primordial had spoken highly of him. In the exchanges the Oceanid and lesser titan had with him, there was a severe discrepancy in terms of quality when it came to him.

“We can’t know they were prepared for battle.”

“But we don’t know that they weren’t,” Metis said carefully. “When you have no allies, you can’t be picky with your options.”

Poseidon laughed, motioning his support to Metis with a hand. “You know? She’s right.”

“Is this how he always is?” Zeus asked Hades.

While there was mild annoyance in the question, Zeus had a fun-loving look on his face. He was unable to contain himself in celebrating his connection with his brothers.

“Yes,” Hades said with a grim nod. “It pains me to admit this, but I believe Poseidon is correct. We should free our sisters.”

“And what of our mother?” Zeus wondered. His voice edged on hysteria.

He had not known his mother, much like Hades and Poseidon did not know her. He had known Gaia though. His very escape to her island was only made possible by his mother’s risk of spiriting him away.

For that alone, there was an indescribable loyalty he had to her. He battled this affection for her as best he could. Coming off as not in control of himself might make his brothers lose their loyalty to him.