"Huh. Can't say that's surprising. Who've you got?" Surprising would have been an overstatement. Millions of children learned, at least in passing, of Cronus's children and his children's children every single year. While by no means real worship, recognition was the bulk of what they survived off of during these lean times. Comparatively, the Titans had even slimmer pickings; chances were half of the immediate family was dead or lost to time.
On the other hand, those who learned of their tales were older, had more initiative, and hopefully were more devoted. So, then. Beggars couldn't afford to be choosers either way. Somehow, that left Pallas feeling pleased.
"What, the cripple?" He'd never had opportunity to meet the boy. More the pity; Pallas knew his work. Handy sonuvabitch, and Cronus had it true -- limping laughingstock or not, there was, if history was anything to go by, power and talent enough to send them spinning off into disarray if Hephaestus just used it properly. "If he's near, I can find him. Cutting off supplies is simple work, but you'll have to let me know if you're starting a collection of captives." A beat went by where Pallas considered the man across from him. He grinned, shrugged, then went back to his food. "It's not like could run far, if you want him."