The Tyrant's Tomb

“Ohhhh.” Several Lares nodded in recognition, as if they spent all their
free time riding the local merry-go-rounds.
Frank shifted in his chair. “You think the tomb of an evil Roman king is
under a carousel?”
“Hey, I didn’t write the prophecy,” Lavinia said. “Besides, it makes as
much sense as anything else we’ve faced.”
Nobody disputed that. Demigods eat weirdness for breakfast, lunch, and
dinner.
“All right, then,” Reyna said. “We have a goal. We need a quest. A short
quest, since time is very limited. We must designate a team of heroes and
have them approved by the senate.”
“Us.” Meg stood. “Gotta be Lester and me.”
I gulped. “She’s right,” I said, which counted as my heroic act for the
day. “This is part of my greater quest to regain my place among the gods.
I’ve brought this trouble to your doorstep. I need to make it right. Please,
don’t anyone try to talk me out of it.”
I waited desperately, in vain, for someone to try to talk me out of it.
Hazel Levesque rose. “I’ll go, too. A centurion is required to lead a
quest. If this place is underground, well, that’s kind of my specialty.”
Her tone also said I have a score to settle.
Which was fine, except I remembered how Hazel had collapsed that
tunnel we’d taken into camp. I had a sudden terrifying vision of being
crushed under a merry-go-round.
“That’s three questers, then,” Reyna said. “The correct number for a
quest. Now—”
“Two and a half,” Meg interrupted.
Reyna frowned. “Sorry?”
“Lester’s my servant. We’re kind of a team. He shouldn’t count as a full
quester.”
“Oh, come on!” I protested.
“So we can take one more,” Meg offered.
Frank sat up. “I’d be happy to—”
“If you didn’t have praetor duties to attend to,” Reyna finished, giving
him a look like, You are not leaving me alone, dude. “While the questers are
out, the rest of us have to prepare the valley’s defenses. There’s a lot to do.”
“Right.” Frank slumped. “So, is there anyone else—?”
POP!