Percy could not say why he unfolded himself out of the comfort of his bedroll; would not say it if he knew why. Not even if he was pressed paper-thin by Mr Henning’s inquisitorial enthusiasm whenever he decided to examine Percy on his lessons. But the doing of something did not depend on it being understood by…

He left at dawn. That was when heroes left their homes, and now was not the time for missteps. Any earlier would have been suspicious; any later would have been underwhelming. He bid his goodbyes to his parents, and it felt, as it ever did with them, leaden with expectations. He despised rising so early:…

Percy belonged to that noble breed of people for whom resentment aged like a fine wine. Neighbourly disagreements and simple misunderstandings could only become great family feuds if allowed to linger and grow. Some would say that they festered, but Percy’s family was too grand to allow anything to fester: it simply allowed them to…