Eat up.

That’s what you tell them, Savor.

Those men in Zeus’ camp who are fighting the good fight every day. You tell them to eat up. It will nourish them, it will feed their bodies and their souls, it will make them whole. The wholesome sacramental bread that you pass around, like Graves passes around at his church. You tell the men that they cannot be a part of the good fight without the bread, for they will not be able to face the fight ahead.

It is true, the fight ahead is a long and arduous one, and it will require a lot of energy and a lot of nourishment, but it is the type of nourishment that concerns me. 

I am not a religious man, so to me bread is bread. All that bread represents to me is a tasty morsel. Something to chew to pass the time before I get back in the big top or the ring. But you know the power the bread holds, don’t you? You know that whether people believe in Graves’ God, or in Zeus himself as the God of Arcadia, that they will hang on to every word their deity says, that they will do anything to feel closer to them.

So they eat the sacramental bread.

The body of Christ. The figurative body of the figurative son of their deity.

You want to know a fun fact, Anton? The Latin word for the sacramental bread translates to ‘sacrificial victim’. They have always said that war is a noble purpose, since the dawn of time – that those who die have died for the greater good. That there is no sacrifice greater than dying for your kin to protect against the enemy.

These men and women that die each day in the war between the Preservationists and Seekers are nothing but sacrificial victims in a fight that is bigger than any of them even know.

Do you think the men and women that survive would still fight for Zeus if they knew the truth, Anton?

Would they turn their nose up at the chef and the owner of the whole damn restaurant if they knew this sacramental bread they consume to nourish their souls in order to serve their very own deity was not just the figurative body of the figurative son of Graves’ deity, but the literal bodies of the sons and daughters of their adopted deity, Zeus?

Would they agree that those brave people who gave their lives so others could survive deserve to be eaten like an animal, that the families of the deceased don’t deserve a proper burial of their loved ones?

Fuck me, Anton, look around at the company I keep, the things I’ve done. They call me the Wild Card, but even I’m not wild enough to feed my freaks the flesh of their brothers and sisters.

Even I can’t make that sound positive.

And when they find out? They will denounce you, and they will denounce their deity, Zeus.

And I’ve got all my chips on him winning.

This ain’t the way, Anton. Let me show you the Way.