“One of my dearest friends in Denmark didn’t know how many children he had,” Claudius says, quite matter-of-factly. “He was a philanderer and a drunkard, of course. Someone with predictable, manipulable vices, which perhaps wasn’t the strongest basis for a friendship. Old friends aside,” with a wave of his hand to dismiss them, “defending the ways of one’s world is always a tricky proposition. Rarely does it resolve the heart of a dispute, but it gives good context. How do gods treat their children in your world?”