orenda [leo valdez]

xi. Crazed Satyrs and Evil Gold Men

It took all four demigods to hold back the wild satyr. Maybe it was because he was locked in the cage so long, but he was crazier then usual. 

"Whoa, Coach!" Jason said. "Bring it down a few notches."

A younger man charged into the room.He must be Lit, the old guy's son. He was dressed in pajama pants with a sleeveless T-shirt that said cornhuskers, and he held a sword that looked like it could husk a lot of things besides corn. His ripped arms were covered in scars, and his face, framed by curly dark hair, would've been handsome if it wasn't also sliced up.

Wait...all gold..throne room...old man..

Lit immediately zeroed in on Jason like he was the biggest threat, and stalked toward him, swinging his sword overhead. 

"Hold on!" Piper stepped forward, trying for her best calming voice. "This is just a misunderstanding! Everything's fine." Lit stopped in his tracks, but he still looked wary. It didn't help that Hedge was screaming, "I'll get them! Don't worry!"

"Coach," Jason pleaded, "they may be friendly. Besides, we're trespassing in their house."

"Thank you!" said the old man in the bathrobe. "Now, who are you, and why are you here?"

"Let's all put our weapons down," Piper said. "Coach, you first."

Hedge clenched his jaw. "Just one thwack?"

"No," Piper said.

"What about a compromise? I'll kill them first, and if it turns out they were friendly, I'll apologize."

"No!" Piper insisted.

"Meh." Coach Hedge lowered his club.

Lit huffed and sheathed his sword. "You speak well, girl—fortunately for your friends, or I would've run them through."

"Appreciate it," Leo said. "I try not to get run through before lunchtime."

The old man in the bathrobe sighed, kicking the teapot that Coach Hedge had smashed. "Well, since you're here. Please, sit down."

Lit frowned. "Your Majesty—"

"No, no, it's fine, Lit," the old man said. "New land, new customs. They may sit in my presence. After all, they've seen me in my nightclothes. No sense observing formalities." He did his best to smile, though it looked a little forced. "Welcome to my humble home. I am King Midas."

"Midas? Impossible," said Coach Hedge. "He died."

They were sitting on the sofas now, while the king reclined on his throne.

Lit stood behind the throne, both hands on his sword, glancing at Piper and flexing his muscular arms just to be annoying. 

Piper sat forward. "What our satyr friend means, Your Majesty, is that you're the second mortal we've met who should be—sorry—dead. King Midas lived thousands of years ago."

"Interesting." The king gazed out the windows at the brilliant blue skies and the winter sunlight. "You know," the king said, "I think I was a bit dead for a while. It's strange. Seems like a dream, doesn't it, Lit?"

"A very long dream, Your Majesty."

"And yet, now we're here. I'm enjoying myself very much. I like being alive better."

"But how?" Piper asked. "You didn't happen to have a...patron?"

Midas hesitated, but there was a sly twinkle in his eyes. "Does it matter, my dear?"