Warning: Certain ancient Greek names matches words use of foul language but no foul language was intentionally used. Also if you haven't read them yet read 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon & the Early Adventures' 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon & the Olympians: The Lightning Thief' 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon & the Olympians: The Sea of Monsters' 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon & the Olympians: The Titan's Curse' and 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon & the Olympians: The Magical Labyrinth' as well as the one shots 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon & the Stolen Chariot' The Tales of the Son of Poseidon & the Sword of Hades', 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon & the Bronze Dragon' 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon & the Olympians: The Last Olympian' 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon & the Staff of Hermes' 'The Tales of the Heroes of Olympus: The Lost Hero' and 'The Tales of the Heroes of Olympus: The Quest for Buford' before reading this story as stuff that happened in them will be mentioned. Lastly, any one who wants to do a Demigods and Olympian reads story using 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon' is allowed as long as you inform me about it.

A/N: I'm going to MAKE THIS CLEAR. Just like I mention on my bio page about every other fanfiction I done: I DON'T OWN THE PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIAN SERIES OR IT'S CHARACTERS as the rights goes to Rick Rioran. Also I suggest you guys start paying attention to the Author notes and my warnings that I left on EVERY chapter of EVERY story. Because I KNOW I warn all of you about the first chapter before it started.

Sorry if this chapter is too much like the book


Percy's POV Part III

It's a good thing I'm not scared of ghost, because half of the people in camp were dead.

Shimmering purple warriors stood outside the armory, polishing ethereal swords. Others hung out in front of the barracks. A ghostly boy chased a ghostly dog down the street. And at the stables, a big glowing red dude with the head of a wolf guarded a herd of—believe it or not—unicorns. Hoses with horns sticking out of their heads.

None of the campers paid the ghost much attention, but as my entourage walk by, with Reyna in the lead and Frank and Hazel on either side, all the spirits stopped what they were doing to stare at me. A few looked angry. The little boy ghost shrieked "Graecus!" and turned invisible.

I wish I could turn invisible too. After weeks on my own, all this attention made me uneasy. I decided to stay between Hazel and Frank, and tried to look inconspicuous."

"Are those ghost?" I asked Hazel.

Hazel turned to me with startling eyes that looked like fourteen-karat gold. "They're Lares. House god."

"Also known as ancestral spirits," Frank explained. He'd removed his helmet, revealing a babyish face that didn't go with his military haircut or his big burly frame. He looked like a toddler who'd taken steroids and joined the Marines.

"The Lares are kind of like mascots," he continued. "Mostly they're harmless, but I've never seen them this agitated."

"The Lares kid called me Graecus," I said.

"It means Greek," Hazel said as if knowing I was going to ask. "Once you've been here awhile, you'll start understanding Latin. Demigods have a natural sense of it."

"Okay…" I said. "But why did he called me that? Is that a bad thing?"

Frank cleared his throat. "Maybe not. You've got that type of complexion, the dark hair and all. Maybe they think you're actually Greek. Is your family from there?"

"Don't know. My memory is gone."

"Well maybe it's just an insult then," Frank shrugged. "Sometimes Romans use graecus as an insult for someone who's an outsider—someone who doesn't belong."

For some reason that made me feel better because I do feel like I don't belong here. But I can't help but shake this feeling that Frank was just saying that to make me feel better. Because from the way the Lares were looking at me, I think they consider me as an enemy.

We stopped at the center of camp where two wide stone-paved roads met at a T.

A street sign labeled the road to the main gates as VIA PRAETORIA. The other road, cutting across the middle of camp, was labeled via principalis. Under those markers were hand painted signs like BERKELEY 5 MILES; NEW ROME 1 MILE; OLD ROME 7280 MILES, HADES 2310 MILES (pointing straight down); RENO 208 MILES, and CERTAIN DEATH: YOU ARE HERE!

I decided not to question the 'CERTAIN DEATH' part. The place didn't look very dangerous, but then again I'm new here and the ways the Lares were glaring at me I don't want to push it.

Other than that, the camp actually was pretty cool. The place was clean and orderly. The buildings were freshly whitewashed, laid out in neat grids like the camp had been designed by a fussy math teacher. The barracks had shady porches, where campers lounged in hammocks or played cards and drank sodas. Each dorm had a different collection of banners out front displaying Roman numerals and various animals—eagle, bear, wolf, horse, and something that looked like a hamster.

Along the Via Praetoria, rows of shops advertised food, armor, weapons, coffee, gladiator equipment, and toga rentals. A chariot dealership had a big advertisement out front: CAESAR XLS W/ANTILOCK BRAKES, NO DENARII DOWN!

At the corner of the crossroads stood the most impressive building—a two-story wedge of white marble with a columned portico like an old fashioned bank. Roman guards stood out front. Over the doorway hung a big purple banner with the gold letters SPQR embroidered inside a laurel wreath.

"So this is the principia?" I asked in amazement.

Reyna ignored my question as she turned and scanned the mob of curious campers who had followed us from the river. "Everyone back to your duties. I'll give you an update at evening muster. Remember, we have war games after dinner."

The thought of dinner made my stomach rumbled. The scent of barbecue from the dining hall made my mouth water. The bakery down the street smelled pretty wonderful too, but I doubt Reyna would let me get an order to go, and honestly the way she keeps staring at me, I don't want to ask.

The crowd dispersed reluctantly. Some muttered comments about my chances.

"He's dead."

"Would be those two who find him."

"Yeah. Let him join the Fifth Cohort. Greeks and geeks."

Several kids laughed at that, but Reyna scowled at them, and they cleared off.

"Hazel," Reyna said. "Come with us. I want your report on what happened at the gates."

"Me too?" Frank said. "Percy saved my life. We've got to let him—"

Reyna gave Frank such a harsh look, he stepped back.

"I'd remind you, Frank Zhang," she said. "you are on probatio yourself. You've caused enough trouble this week."

Frank's ears turned red. He fiddled with a little tablet on a cord around his neck that looked like a name tag made out of lead.

"Go to the armory," Reyna told him. "Check our inventory. I'll call you if I need you."

"But—" Frank caught himself. "Yes, Reyna."

He hurried off.

Reyna waved Hazel and me toward the principia building. "Now, Percy Jackson, let's see if we can improve your memory."

Why do I have a feeling that by 'improving my memory' would mean 'trouble'?

The principia were even more impressive inside. On the ceiling glittered a mosaic of Romulus and Remus under their adopted mama she-wolf (Lupa made sure I knew that story). The floor was polished marble. The walls were draped in velvet, so I felt like I was inside the world's most expensive camping tent. Along the back wall stood a display of banners and wooden poles studded with bronze medals—military symbols, I would have guessed. In the center of the room was one empty display stand, as if the main banner had been taken down for cleaning or something.

In the back corner, a stairwell led down. It was blocked by a row of iron bars like a prison. Two things came to my mind: What is down there and do I want to go down there to find out?

In the center of the room, a long wooden table was cluttered with scrolls, notebooks, tablet computers, daggers, and a large bowl filled with jelly beans, which seemed kind of out of place. Two life-sized statues of greyhounds—one silver, one gold—flanked the table. Reyna walked behind the table and sat in one of two-high backed chairs. I stayed standing with Hazel as I had a feeling that other chair was supposed to be for someone else in charge.

"So…" I started to say.

The dog statues bared their teeth and growled.

I froze. Normally I liked dogs, but these glared at me with ruby eyes. Their fangs looked sharp as razors. I realize they must be robotic dogs—Automaton made out of Gold and Silver. Although I had no idea how I knew that.

"Easy, guys," Reyna told the greyhounds.

They stopped growling, but kept eyeing me as though they were imagining me as leftovers in a doggie bag.

"They won't attack," Reyna said, "unless you try to steal something, or unless I tell them to. That's Argentum and Aurum."

"Silver and gold," I said. Hazel was right, the Latin meanings did popped in my head. Although I don't think it was natural, rather that I might have studied the language once and just don't remember it. It's possible since I have no clue about my past.

Reyna set her dagger on the table. I had the vague feeling I've seen her before. Her hair was black and glossy as volcanic rock, woven in a single braid down her back. She had that poise of a sword fighter—relax yet vigilant, as if ready to spring into action at any moment. The worry lines around her eyes made her look older than she probably was.

I didn't want to be too direct about it, but if I met her before, I had to find out. Maybe she knows where Annabeth is at.

"Are you sure we haven't met before?" I asked. "Please, if you can tell
me—"

"First thing first," Reyna said. "I want to hear your story. What do you remember? How did you get here? And don't lie. My dogs don't like liars."

Argentum and Aurum snarled to emphasize the point.

I sighed in defeat and told Reyna my story—how I'd woken up at the ruined mansion in the woods of Sonoma. I described my time with Lupa and her pack, learning their language of gestures and expressions, learning to survive and fight.

Lupa had taught me about demigods, monsters and gods. She'd explained that she was one of the guardian spirits of Ancient Rome. Demigods like me were still responsible for carrying on Roman traditions in modern times—fighting monsters, serving the gods, protecting mortals, and upholding the memory of the empire. She'd spent weeks training me, until I was strong and tough and vicious as a wolf. When she was satisfied with my skills, she'd sent me south, telling me that if I survived my journey, I might find a new home and regain my memory and make sense of the a line of what I guess was a prophecy: You'll be one of the seven greatest heroes of your generation… possibly of all time.

None of this seemed to surprise Reyna—except the last part, that caught her off guard, but she quickly hid it. Still there was one thing she asked.

"That's all you remember?" she asked. "Nothing else."

"Everything else is fuzzy," I replied. I didn't bring up Annabeth as it was a bit personal. The only thing I remember about Annabeth was her face, her blonde hair that curled at the end, her gray eyes, the way she laughed, threw her arms around me and kiss me.

I feared that if I spoke about that memory to anyone, it would evaporate like a dream. I couldn't risk that.

"Oh—but I do believe I had a wrist watch," I pointed at my left wrist. "I think it has some connection to my past, but when I woke up at the Wolf House I didn't have it."

Reyna frowned like that part was new even to her. She spun her dagger. "I don't know about your wristwatch, or what happened to your memories, but everything else you described is normal for demigods. At a certain age, one way or another, we find our way to the Wolf House. We're tested and trained. If Lupa thinks we're worthy, she sends us south to join the legion. How did you find Camp Jupiter if you had no memory though?"

I told her about the last three days—the gorgons who wouldn't die, the old lady who turned out to be a goddess, and finally meeting Hazel and Frank.

Hazel took the story from there. She described me as brave and heroic, which made me uncomfortable.

But when I brought up about the Mark of Achilles, Reyna's eyes flashed in a warning.

"If we recruited you, I wouldn't go telling everyone in camp about that mark. In fact, I would recommend that you come up with a cover story," Reyna said in a way that made me think she did care in her own way. "I'll let it slid since Juno let you keep it, but the mark of Achilles is considered a Greek Blessing, and Romans don't take to kindly to that."

I quickly nodded.

"Still, for you have it would meant you had a swim in the River of Styx in the Underworld," Reyna said. "And it would explain how you survived this long. You're what, sixteen?"

"I think so," I said.

"That mark could have been what kept you alive while you were on your own with no help. Most would be dead without them. And the fact you're a son of Neptune would mean you have a powerful aura that would attract all kinds of monsters. But still, the fact you controlled the water of the Little Tiber and the fact you survive so long against the Gorgon sisters led me to believe you had training. Which means, you must've been somewhere before the Wolf House."

I shrugged. Juno had said something about me slumbering, and I did have a vague feeling that I'd been asleep—maybe for along time. But that didn't make any sense to me."

Reyna sighed. "Well, the dogs haven't eaten you, so I suppose you're telling the truth."

She stood up and paced in front of the banners. Her metal dogs watched her go back and forth.

"Even if I accept you're not an enemy," she said, "You're not a typical recruit. The Queen of Olympus simply doesn't appear at camp, announcing a new demigod. Especially if that prediction you mention is about you."

I wanted to argue that it was, but I kept my mouth shut as Reyna continued.

"The last time a major god visited us in person like that…" She shook her head. "I've only heard legends about such things. And a son of Neptune… that's not normally a good omen. Especially now."

"What's wrong with Neptune?" I asked. "And what do you mean, 'especially now'?"

Hazel shot me a warning look.

Reyna kept pacing. "You've fought Medusa's sisters, who haven't been seen in thousands of years. You've agitated our Lares, who are calling you a graecus. You bare the Mark of Achilles. And you wear strange symbols—that shirt, the beads on your necklace. What do they mean?"

I looked down at my tattered orange T-shirt. It might have had words on it at one time, but they were too faded to read. I should have thrown the shirt away weeks ago. It was worn to shreds, but I couldn't bear to get rid of it. I just kept washing it in streams and water fountains as best as I could and putting it back on.

As for the necklace, the nine clay beads were each decorated with a different symbol. The first one was a pine tree that I felt connected too the most. The second one was what I think was a centaur in a prom dress. The third one was a ship—a trireme I think—on fire. The fourth one was a winged shoes. The fifth one was a silver arrow. The sixth one was a lightning bolt. The seventh one was what I think was a golden Ram's fleece. The eighth one was an etch with the design of a maze. The last one had an image of an image of a building—maybe the Empire State Building?—with names I didn't recognize engraved around it.

Each bead felt important, like pictures from a family album, but I couldn't remember what they meant. And why would someone take my wristwatch but leave my necklace if it has connections to my past.

"I don't know," I finally said.

"Your thermos?" Reyna asked.

I unclipped my thermos and handed it to her. "Please be careful with it. I think it was a gift from my dad."

I expected Reyna to shot at me about telling her what to do Reyna nodded like she understand. She unscrewed the lid and looked inside.

"The inside is coated with fossilize sea shells," Reyna noted.

I nodded. "I think it's the reason why if I focus my power into it, I can summon a blast of water," I said.

Reyna nodded in understanding before screwing the lid shut and handing it back to me. "And your sword?"

I clipped the thermos back onto my belt before checked my pocket. The pen had reappeared as it always did. I pulled it out before realizing I'd never shown Reyna my sword—or my thermos. Hazel and Frank might of saw my thermos when we fought the gorgons but not my sword. How had Reyna know about them?

Well, it was too late to pretend they didn't exist especially after showing Reyna my Thermos. Then I uncapped the pen and Riptide sprang to full form. Hazel gasped. The greyhounds barked apprehensively.

"What is that?" Hazel asked. "I've never seen a sword like that."

"I have," Reyna said darkly. "It's very old—a Greek design. We used to have a few in the armory before…" She stopped herself. "The metal is called Celestial bronze. It's deadly to monsters, like Imperial gold, but rarer. If made right, can use the Mist to fool mortals. I take it that's what the outside of your thermos is made from?"

I never thought of it much, but now I think about it, the outside of my Thermos did look like it was made out of bronze, and whenever I used it, the mortals didn't think much of it. I thought it was just naturally due to the Mist though, but now it made sense.

"Yeah, it is," I said. "But what's Imperial gold?"

Reyna unsheathed her dagger. Sure enough, the blade was gold. "The metal was consecrated in ancient times, at the Pantheon in Rome. Its existence was closely guarded secret of the emperors—a way for their champions to slay monsters that threatened the empire. We used to have more weapons like this, but now… well, we scrape by. I use this dagger. Hazel has a spatha, cavalry sword. Most legionnaires use a shorter sword called a gladius. But that weapon of yours is not Roman at all. It's another sign you're not a typical demigod. And your arm…"

"What about it?" I asked.

Reyna held up her own forearm. I didn't notice it before, but she had a tattoo on the inside: the letters SPQR, a crossed sword and torch, and under that four parallel lines like scorch marks.

I glanced at Hazel.

"We all have them," she confirmed, holding up her arm. "All full members of the legion do."

Hazel's tattoo also had the letters SPQR, but she only had one scorch mark, and her emblem was different: a black glyph like a cross with a curved arms and a head.

I looked at my own arms. There was some mud and a fleck of Crispy cheese 'n' Wiener, but no tattoos.

"So you've never been a member of the legion," Reyna said. "These marks can't be removed. I thought perhaps…" she shook her head, as if dismissing an idea.

Hazel leaned forward. "If he's survived as a loner all this time, maybe he'd seen Jason." She turned to me. "Have you ever met a demigod like us before name Jason Grace? He would be the son of Jupiter A guy in a purple shirt, with marks on his arm including an eagle—"

Out of nowhere I had a strong stabbing pain behind my eyes. I rubbed my eyes.

"Hey! Are you okay?" Reyna asked.

That name: Jason Grace… I knew that name from somewhere—and especially the name Grace. And the whole son of Jupiter—I felt like I should know something about it. But the more I tried to think back the pain worsen. I leaned forward trying.

Eventually the pain subsided.

"Are you okay?" Hazel asked.

"Yeah, I just… I had a really bad headache." Which was true, whatever about that name Jason, it triggered something.

"I think we should drop the subject until we know for certain about Percy's past," Reyna suggested.

I nodded and took my sword. I touched the point of Riptide with the cap and it shrank down into pen form.

"Sorry about that," I said.

"Has that happen before?" Reyna asked.

"Once in a while, but that was the most tense one yet," I said. "How long have your colleague been gone?"

"Last October," Reyna said." The legion normally has two elected praetors. Jason was our other praetor until he disappeared."

"But he might not be dead," Hazel said. "We haven't given up."

Reyna grimaced. I got the feeling this Jason guy might be more to her than a colleague.

"Either way, elections happen in two ways," Reyna said. "Either the legion raises someone on a shield after a major success on the battlefield—which we haven't had any major battles—or we hold a ballot on the evening of June 24, at the Feast of Fortuna. That's in five days."

"Fortuna—that's the goddess of luck right?" I asked.

"Yes," Hazel replied. "Whatever happens on her feast day can affect the entire rest of the year. She can grant the camp good luck… or really bad luck."

Reyna and Hazel both glanced at the empty display stand, as if thinking about what was missing.

A chill went down my back. "The Feast of Fortuna… The gorgons mention that. So did Juno. They said the camp was going to be attacked on that day, something about a big bad goddess name Gaea, and an army, and Death being unleashed. You're telling me that day is this week?"

Reyna's fingers tightened around the hilt of her dagger.

"You will say nothing about that outside this room," she ordered. "I will not have you spreading more panic in the camp."

I nodded. I wanted to ask more about it, but it was clear Reyna has closed the matter.

"I think that's enough talking for now," Reyna said. "Hazel, take him to Temple Hill. Find Octavian. On the way you can answer Percy's questions. Tell him about the legion."

"Yes, Reyna."

"And Percy," Reyna said. "If you are allowed to join, remember what I said about the Mark of Achilles and anything else you might remember about it."

I remember what the Gorgons said about a vulnerable spot and what Juno said about my left armpit. I nodded.

"Good luck with the augury, Percy Jackson," Reyna said as she sheathed her dagger. "If Octavian lets you live, perhaps we can compare notes… about your past."