Chapter 8 Blessed Son Of Jupiter
- They slept at a small roadside inn on the edge of a withering pinewood. The beds were hard, the blankets smelled like they had never been used for 5 years, and the soup tasted suspiciously like water that had once met a vegetable in passing.
- Kayne complained the entire night.
- His lamentation was about his stiff back and the war crime that was last night’s soup.