Through Brier and Bramble We Walked

by VariegatedShrubbery

With a conflict set to put the Second Titan War to shame, tensions are at an all time high in Camp Half-Blood, especially following the disappearance of a certain Demi-God and the arrival of the boy intended to take his place. Just when it seems like things can't take a turn for a worse, the appearance of three new Demi-Gods raises the question: Are they to be a Boon or a Bane?

4. Chapter 4

Praetor's Villa; Camp Jupiter

To say that the Praetor of New Rome's weekend had been stressful would be a gross understatement and an insult to her well being and ability. Reyna was a competent leader, she knew how to trust her own abilities, and since the Second Titan War she had seen the legacy of Rome itself blossom under her guiding hand. It was therefore inevitable that things would eventually go wrong. She had only hoped that they were more spread-out. Luck, and fate, it would seem were not in agreement about this. Firstly she had lost her co-ruler, the Son of Jupiter, and the other Praetor of Rome to some strange turn of events she still had not figured out, and was left with twice the work to do. Vague threats of another conflict on the horizon did little to appease the workload of the young ruler. Then of course, this weekend was bound to top even last weekend, and make life even more of a living hell for her. If the double amount of work and papers weren't already enough to drive her body to their limits, there were the issues with a certain redheaded legacy in the Fifth who had been on probation for a certain incident. She could only grumble and increase the pounced look of red splotches on the bridge of her nose as she thought about the Centurion of the Third who was still in the hospital nursing broken ribs. And that brought the focus of her mind back to that certain Legionnaire once more, only causing her migraine to worsen.

The boy, Alec, was not a bad soldier, all things considered. Even as a Legacy he managed to keep up with some of the Demi-Gods presents in the ranks of the Fifth Cohort, even putting on a show that could give some children of Mars or Bellona a run for their money. Granted he still suffered as a Legacy, his strength and skill only somewhat above that of a regular mortal, but he put in the work. He was smart too. She had seen him at the war table with Dakota and the Fifth on the rare occurrences she was put in charge of overseeing them during their occasional war-games. He knew his tactics and had decent inputs on route planning for some of the strike missions the Fifth would conduct, albeit rare strike missions they were. There was also the gift of his Godly parent, or rather Grandparent in his case. Though a minor God, it was an indispensable skill to have, and when he could make use of it, Dakota did so extremely well. Especially potent in the Senate or Drilling. It wasn't on the level of a true demi-god, but it was good enough to earn him some credit to his name. All around a good soldier in her opinion, just not a very Roman one. Like his Centurion and mentor Dakota, he forwent the traditional fighting style of a Legionnaire and was more a duelist than another rank and file. He was also much too passionate in sharing his opinions and quick to anger when insults were brought against him. In particular his heritage. She knew all too well of the disparity and animosity between the Demi-Gods and the Legacies, and even a small part of her agreed with his actions the previous weekend, but it was too far. If he had been a little better, he could've easily made Centurion at this point. If he could avoid punishment and guard duty that was.

That's why it was little surprise that this weekend's mess of trouble would inexplicably be linked to the young boy, though maybe that was unfair of her considering he was seventeen and actually older than her. He was also senior to her in the Legion, but rank is what mattered at the moment and she was forced to use it. Regardless, Alec had brought his own fair share of trouble with him all those days ago when he brought in their strange friend. Granted, it was unfair to call it his fault as he was simply doing his job, but trouble followed him nonetheless. Already rumors had been spread across Camp and the city proper about the strange new guy and how the Tiber had split when he drew near. Now, she had heard Alec's telling of the events and how it wasn't so simple, but the people didn't care for that and already the rumors had been reduced to their base form, all huddling in both fear and anticipation at the prospect of another one of the Big-Three arriving at Camp. In particular a certain Sea God whose children did not have the best reputation with Camp Jupiter and New Rome in the last couple of decades. There was also the tale of his defeat of three Cyclopes, which Reyna was more than certain had been Alec himself, given Frank was much to reserved to talk about such and she had seen a particularly passionate Alec speaking on something at dinner Friday night. She could only pinch her nose thinking about it, and in turn was met with the feeling of her own dry skin becoming itchy under her fingers.

There was other news too, that plagued her mind. It was mostly about a certain Blond haired Praetor who had been missing for months and had been the cause of her job slowly killing her. Just thinking about the old lug made her chest tighten ever so slightly, but at the same time she could only sigh. For months they had sent out teams and contacted countless veterans of the legion all around the US hoping for even the slight trace of the Son of Jupiter to be found. All that had turned up was a few new Sons of Apollo to be added to the ranks of the Legion's archers. Certainly a welcome addition, but it was not the boon that the return of a Son of Jupiter, much less a Praetor, would bring back to the Legion. She had seen the faith of the Legion strain and waver once before, back when they had been threatened by the Titan's and had seen many former friends and comrades on the opposite side of battle. There were signs that such was occurring once again as a slow trickle of deserters and missing legionnaires, many of them Legacies, had disappeared in the night or were listed as Missing In Action after a strike at a monster stronghold. It was a terrible thing that pained her heart knowing she'd be forced to once again stare down former friends and members of the Legion. Of course then there were the reports of the strike groups sent out to hunt down the monster strongholds.

The news that the strongholds were becoming larger, more organized, and more numerous was already alarming enough. The strange appearance of nature spirits didn't help it at all. Already the fourth and third had lost more than twenty combined fighters tracking mysterious phantoms across the wilds of lower Oregon. It was far from the reach of the Legion down in San Fran, their enemy seemingly realizing the mistake of the last war and gathering too close to areas where the Legion had influence and supply lines. It didn't help that Oregon boarded on Washington State and eventually Canada; areas where the Gods' power was said to be weaker and where on the large map that sat in the war room, some number of years ago, had been marked as areas not to trespass. She could understand the lack of the Gods' influence in the area, but a particular note for the Nineteen Eighties of all times had mentioned something of 'Beware when the forests sing' on the outline of Washington State. What it meant, she had little clue, but it could be related to the strange nature spirits. Reports of beings looking like Dryads crossed with hell-hounds, whatever that was supposed to mean, she had no idea but it was constant between three separate parties so it was probably true, had been reported over a week period. Unsure of what they could be, and fearing that ancient monsters were rising, the parties were sent to investigate. It had been a week since and no further reports had been received from any of the groups. A fourth was sent to their last known locations, but they found nothing but a few pieces of equipment; a torn chest plate here, a gladiolus or crumpled shield there. No blood, just these pieces and little sign of a struggle, their camps impossible to find. Further ventures into Oregon were declined after that and they focused on setting up outposts rather than hunter-seeker groups.

If the reports of strange beasts in the woods of the North weren't enough to get the Praetor's head spinning, there was the news from her sister; the Queen of the Amazons, which was equally upsetting. One of their smaller facilities, not far from Camp Jupiter itself, perhaps thirty or forty miles to the North, had come under attack. The entire staff there, around fifteen or so Amazons total, had been completely wiped out. There were definitely signs of a battle occurring, in what little of the wreckage they had been able to sort through. The entire facility had been destroyed, leveled completely, like a tornado had descended on the building, or it had been crushed underfoot by someone with massive feet. It was an attempt at humor in the report, likely to calm her own nerves, but Reyna knew her sister well enough that she was worried. No alarms had been tripped, meaning it wasn't simple monsters that had done this. Official news reported it was a sinkhole, but the damage isn't consistent. The way the supports had been destroyed was too uniform, they weren't simply crushed because of the weight of the floor giving out; they had been destroyed prior to the collapse of the buildings in the ground. With no traces of monsters, it left only a few options, none of them particularly good in her mind. It was more a warning than a report, but she couldn't help but worry a little bit for her sister, it was only natural, after all.

Those thoughts had been slowly eating away at her mind Sunday night as she slowly attempted to drift off into sleep, her mind tired from the weekend's events and the fact that she would soon have to oversee the beginnings of the preparations for the war game that was scheduled to take place this week. It was around eleven at night when she wagered she had finally drifted off to sleep, only to be woken some twenty minutes later by a hard knock at the front door of her office. She hadn't even bothered to go home for the night, having stayed up the whole time finishing the last of the documents to procure the supplies for the building of the fort that would be needed for the coming games. Seeing as the knocking was in fact not a part of her imagination, as much as she wished it to be, she threw herself out of her bed to meet an out of breath Daughter of Pluto huffing in the entrance to her office. It was the young probie of the Fifth that had volunteered for the guard duty along with Alec and Frank, both of whom seemed to be her friends. Reyna offered her a cup of water which she swallowed like a drifter who had just seen it for the first time in a decade, spilling most of it on herself, but she didn't seem to care. Apparently she had raised a good soldier, if she wasn't afraid to wake her senior officer in the middle of the night. Though if her pounding headache had anything to say about it, perhaps she was too good. As soon as the young girl had squeaked out that their patient had awoken she cursed under her breath as she moved at a speedy walk befitting of a Praetor in a rush, towards the clinic.

She arrived in the clinic slightly red from having just woken up and been forced to walk through the slightly chilly night across the quiet cityscape and into the currently only occupied room of the military wing of the hospital. What she wasn't prepared for was to find the patient sitting upright in his bed, easily chatting with a particular redheaded legionnaire who was at the side of his bed. Both seemed to be grinning and she could already feel the headache of another one with a similar disposition to Alec coming into her life, but such thoughts were quickly rendered null when she glanced at the young man, he was obviously the eldest in the room, aside from the Doctor, just by looking at him, and noticed the eyes which had met her own. First she was taken aback by the color; a pale yellow that seemed almost sickly in the dull white light of the hospital room. The look was even more startling to her. It was sharp, piercing like a spear that went straight through whatever armor she could adorn her face and emotions with. She could tell he was looking her up and down, studying her in a brief moment, but not in the way a warrior like herself might, but like a beast. No that was wrong, like a hunter. She had seen those eyes before, granted in a different color. They had the same look she had seen in Lady Diana's when the Hunters had visited Camp several years ago, and back then just as now it made her feel unease deep in her gut. But she was a Praetor of New Rome, and she had faced a Titan once, she could deal with this teen. Probably. She let out a deep breath.

"I am Reyna, Praetor of New Rome." She announced, earning salutes from both Alec and the Doctor, the latter of which rose from their seat.

The teen seemed to smirk for half a second, before a confused expression rippled across his face. She could only raise an eyebrow at this as she waited for his response.

"I am Ardal O'Connor," he began, an interesting name already she thought, "And correct me if I'm wrong, but last I heard Rome had an Emperor."

For a moment the room went dead silent. Reyna felt her own face contort and new creases formed on her forehead. The doctor looked confused and Alec just seemed amused at his response. She couldn't blame him, it was common knowledge for the most part that Rome had fallen under an Emperor, just all the more reason for a Praetorship rather than a dictatorship. It was the days of the Republic in New Rome, not the Empire.

"Did Lady Lupa not tell you about this? It's unlike her to forget something important like this."

"Lupa? As in wolf?" replied a confused bed-ridden teen.

At once the whole atmosphere in the room instantly tensed and went from zero to one hundred very quickly. Well, maybe only ninety as there was yet for blood to be spilled. Reyna's own face grew dark as the Doctor and Alec looked confused. Her two hounds had yet to react in any way, meaning the teen had only told truths, or at least partial truths thus far. Slowly her hand reached down towards her belt where a Gladius lay hanging in it's sheath. Even a bedridden man was not to be underestimated if the story told by Alec was even half true. Thinking about it, she cast a half glance towards the Legionnaire, who, catching her look, simply shook his head slowly. The teen was not exuding anything overly hostile, and cutting the man down now, or attempting to, might backfire.

"If you do not know of Lupa, how did you manage to reach us?" chimed Alec, with more curiosity than worry in his words.

"Ah, well, I sorta tossed a stick into the air, and just started walking in the direction that it landed. Changed course a couple times after some run-ins with monsters in the country-side, and eventually ended up here. To be honest, if it wasn't for that guy over there," He jerked a thumb Alec's way, "I'd probably be slow-roasted dinner for a few Cyclopes about now."

He had the audacity to laugh at such a thought, which naturally got a smirk out of Alec to little surprise of her own. She was too focused on the stranger.

"It's certainly an unorthodox way to reach camp, but from what I can see, you're already fairly capable. Perhaps that's why Lupa didn't see it necessary to teach you before you arrived here."

He only shrugged with some slight wincing.

"You're pretty old for a recruit to the Legion, what have you been doing all this time?"

"Working on a farm with some friends and family back in the North-East."

The North-East was another place she had been warned not to venture the Legion on the old maps

"The North-East is a dangerous region for Demi-Gods; so close to Olympus and the unknown lands, it's a wonder you survived to reach, what? Eighteen?" Interrupted the Doctor.

"Ah, I can see why Olympus would say something like that," He mused, and something about the distant tone he used in regarding Olympus was unsettling to her, and even Alec seemed to notice by the way he grimaced ever so slightly, "But I had friends and some family with me. Dangerous, yes, but not possible to live there."

That was curious to Reyna, the fact that there was another group of potential Demi-Gods out there who were living in their own little group. She had heard of the occasional Legacy or Demi settling somewhere after retiring from the Legion, sometimes marrying and others in small groups, but the way he said it indicated it was much larger than just two or three people. It was a curious thing, and something she would certainly have to look into. She knew getting information out of him would likely be rough, considering how guarded and vague he had been in his answers. She noticed it well enough.

"So who's your Godly Parent?" Piped up Alec. Already she could see the questioning escaping her grasp, and she would need to reel in the conversation soon enough. But she was also curious and would've asked it again anyways. Given the reports by Alec and Frank, no doubt he was some Son of Mars or Bellona, given his strength, but the nagging possibility he was still a Son of the Sea rested in her head, even if Alec's intuition on the subject had stated otherwise.

"Godly Parent?" he repeated, like he was contemplating the meaning of the word. "I have none. Both of my parents were directly 'related' to Gods though."

Reyna's own eyes widened, as did the rest. Legacies were known to sometimes inherit the power of one of their Godly ancestors' authorities, but even then it was at a reduced power. As was the case with Alec. But the feat he had performed wasn't something that could just be given to a Legacy. Most definitely one of Mars or Bellona, perhaps both were and that's why he could perform such feats, but even then it was grasping at straws. She knew something else was at play here, but she couldn't decide what.

"And who were their Godly Parents?"

"My parents never told me. We were separated when I was very young, and I was raised by some unrelated people. They too never knew, since they were only loose acquaintances with my parents."

It was the truth, but she knew he had dodged the question. It was a clever way to do so, and both Alec and the Doctor took it and ran with it, seeing it was plausible and her own Dogs only confirming it as the truth. But, then again, he had the right to such privacy and it was more than likely he would be claimed officially now that he was here. That, or like his battle with the Cyclopes, it would definitely show. Neither really mattered as long as he could do his role within the Legion properly.

"Well, it's certainly strange for one to find the Legion this way, but the Gods' will is never one that is easy to understand."

"Well said," the teen agreed.

"And while the Augury has been unable to properly communicate with the Gods on this topic, I believe that in these times the Legion can use as much skilled manpower as possible." She pointed to Alec, Seeing as Legionnaire Alec found you, he will serve as your sponsor. Dakota has also taken an interest in you, so I'm sure the fifth will welc-"

"Woah, now hold on little lady," Oh, she was definitely going to be getting more headaches, "While its a nice offer, I'll have to decline"

"What!?" She shouted, losing herself for a moment. Alec and the Doctor only looked on, shocked.

"Well, I've got a family back on the Orchard, and I'd be going back on my word to abandon them. Plus," He added after a few silent seconds,I can't bring my own problems on you after you've helped me so." He glanced down at his wounded leg.

So he does know. She thought, having completely forgotten it during the strange events of his short retelling of his story to them. There was no need for her to press further, and she simply bided her time with the teen.

"Soon as Doc over there says I'm all good to go, I'll get myself out of your hair. I'm not one to overstay my welcome. Though I swear it, I will repay you for the kindness you have shown to me!"

Even she could feel the sincerity in his words without the help of her twin hounds. All she could do was sigh at the strange guy. Letting him just float around was bound to be a liability, but she couldn't exactly just kick him out on his own. No doubt he would be the topic of conversation at the next senate meeting, even if something even crazier managed to happen.

"Very well. Until you are released, you'll be under the care of Alec and the Fifth as if you were a Legionnaire in training. You will not be expected to train with them for physical and personal reasons, and will instead deal with whatever tasking is needed by the Centurion of the Cohort; Dakota. Do you find this agreeable?"

He simply nodded to her, a smile on his face. It was mirrored by the one that Alec wore, who was having a silent conversation with himself and the patient, as she removed herself from the room, hoping to get some sleep before morning came.

Fifth Cohort Training Grounds; Camp Jupiter

The training grounds of the Fifth Cohort weren't really anything for anybody to write home about, but then again neither were the training grounds occupied by any of the other Cohorts. The Field of Mars was a large expanse of grass that sat just outside of the city proper and the barracks that housed the five Cohorts of the Legion within them. It was simple, relatively flat, and littered with little besides a well trimmed field of green grass that never seemed to need cutting, Gods knew it would be one hell of a punishment detail if it did, and the occasional small bit or burn mark that sat as a reminder of past war games. Already in the distance the beginnings of a large fort were beginning to take place as girls and boys dressed in simply purple t-shirts labored under the blinding light of the sun in the summer afternoon. The Cohorts had taken turns working on the fort that would be the epicenter of the coming war game, allowing each to still have ample time to train in the meantime. And they were taking full advantage of it, with the remainder of the field occupied by four distinct groups. Some were marching in formation, others were doing basic training for strength and stamina, and on the far end of the field, furthest from the city, were the members of the Fifth.

Unlike the rest of their comrades, their portion of the field was simply marred by several large circles of white chalk, each perhaps ten meters or so in diameter, and surrounded on all sides by four or five teenagers of various ages and sizes. Within the circles themselves stood two individuals facing down one another in a duel. Most fought on equal terms, each combatant holding a Gladius and shield, or a spear, matching each other, though a few had elected to mix it up quite a bit and were instead facing off against an opponent with an advantage in reach, speed, or armament. It was really up to personal preference as there was little input towards who did what. Especially not from the only loner of the whole group of kids, a certain guy with curly black hair and a trail of red staining his lower lip and chin. He stood lazily, his body being propped up only by a large shield of Roman design he used as a crutch. His eyes, a deep and rich blue, drifted from ring to ring, studying the teen within their white circles for a split second, making silent critiques of their form or their actions.

Despite the training going on, the curly haired boy knew full well their training at the moment was mostly useless. The war game that was coming up was not another competition of gladiators; though by summer's end it would likely be as it always was, and for that they may have some chance at victory if they continued on with such a regiment. That was his hope. In the coming battle, an assault on a fortified position, he knew full well that they'd probably never get a chance to fight another in single combat. Footwork and marching drills would be a better use of their time, but forcing the Cohort to march in kit in the heat of the sun when they would be slaughtered by the end of the week during the mock-battle, would just be a waste of time and likely to demoralize them further than they already were. So, individual fighting was the best they could muster. A week's worth of straight physical training had worked them to the bone so much that even he was bed ridden and sore for most of the weekend, only getting out for a little bit, and of course it would just so happen that one of his soldiers would get roped into trouble. Definitely a good sign for what was to come. Hopefully though, this little bit of time to burn off steam with dueling and weapons training would account for something. If the Gods favored them maybe they'd even get a chance to put it to use. If anyone actually survived being the human shields for the fourth who was set to 'help' them assault the fortifications. Most likely, they'd all end up wounded or declared dead on the field, get laughed at as usual and then hope that the pitched battle might go a little more in their favor, given it was one Cohort pitched against another. They'd probably get stuck with the first thought, and trounced upon once again just to boost the egos of some kids who got in on letters and favors.

He realized quick enough though, that his thoughts were beginning to get off topic, and hoping to find some solace, cast his glance back towards the city proper, where he spotted two figures quickly moving towards him. Or at least they were moving as quick as a person on a crutch could manage. It did bring a slight smile to his face as a familiar mop of red hair was seen descending towards him, dressed in full battle-rattle, complete with a Gladius of brilliant gold basking in the glow of the afternoon sun. It was probably the only thing brighter than the guy's own red hair which blazed like a burner fire that had been drowned in gasoline and roared defiantly. Next to him, however, was the more interesting figure, and not just because he was walking on crutches. His hair was messed up and looked like it had been put through a storm after not being washed in a week, which was probably true, and held a familiar gleam to it that reminded him of a particular substance he detested beyond belief. The guy wore a purple shirt just like many of the laborers, but it was a size too big for him and was loose and baggy, threatening to spill over his waist like a little kid who put on his brother's clothes for the first time. It contrasted greatly with the olive green coat that hung over his shoulders and seemed to ripple in the light breeze that crawled through the field around them. How it stayed on his shoulders as he hobbled towards them against the wind, he wasn't quite sure, and frankly did not care much. His eyes were elsewhere. In particular the new guy's own eyes; orbs of pale gold that shimmered in the sun with a power that was not lost on Dakota. There was something about this guy that drew him towards him, though he didn't know why, he was sure it had to do a little bit with those eyes of his.

"I take it you're, Dakota?"

"That I am. Guess that makes you, Ardal? Alec's been talking up a storm 'bout you."

"Only good things I hope?" A chuckle accompanied the end.

"So far at least. How's your impression of the Legion been?"

He shrugged. "Couldn't tell ya, my room had no windows."

"Sounds like Reyna, paranoid as ever."

"Eh, can't blame her. Smart move if you ask me."

"Why's that?"

"You just let strangers look around your house as you please? I thought you were a Son of Bacchus, not of Mercury."

"Ha, fair enough. Shame you had to end up with us though, might taint your view of the Legion."

"Why do you say that? Alec talks of this place like a second home."

The boy in question became a little flushed and hurried away to join his comrades in his training.

"I'm not surprised. Good kid, knows how to make others at home. Must come from his Grandfather."

"Legacy of Mercury?."

"He hasn't told you who his ancestor is?"

"Not at all. I'm beginning to think it's not Mercury though."

"Not in the slightest." He took a breath, "He'll tell you after a while, he likes you."

"So I've noticed. Probably would've tried to 'sponsor' me if I let him."

Dakota traded a curious look to his companion, but received none in return. The guy's gaze was focused out at a particular ring where a red headed legionnaire was doing a number on a girl that was surprisingly about his size. Alec was by no means a skinny or small person, but it was still a bit strange for a girl to be about the same size as him, but then again, the children of Bellona were known to be that way. One didn't need to look further than their own Praetor who was lean but just as strong as any Son of Mars and had given a certain Blond friend of his a run for his money on many occasions.

"Why didn't you let him?" Dakota asked over a heated clanging of metal on metal nearby.

"Cause I'm not joining the Legion. No need for one, but I'll still be sticking around the Fifth it seems."

"Not joining? What's that about?" His curiosity was piqued even more by the stranger.

"Got other places to be, people waiting for me. Probably just bring nothing but trouble too. Alec seems like more than enough for you already."

"You can say that again. What's your angle then?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why's a guy like you here then? You were already pretty old for a Legionnaire. If you came to steal something you wouldn't be wasting time here, if you wanted to take out the Praetor I'm doubtful we could've stopped you when she visited. If you're a spy, well, you're doing a pretty shit job showing up like you did and getting in with this crowd. No offense of course."

He wasn't exactly sure why a spy would take offense to that notion, but it seemed like the polite thing to do. He liked the guy after all. The way he had studied him up and down, looking for any sort of weakness he could exploit should they come to blows, and the way he watched the hips and the joints of the Legionnaires fighting, and not just their weapons or heads. Dakota knew the guy was good, hell, Alec had said he stood up to Cyclopes before and that was on top of the fact he should've already been dead from whatever crap shoot he had been part of to catch an arrow to the leg. And even despite that, he was walking around like the only thing that had happened was a light sprain. If the guy had told him that he would've never suspected that he'd been in a coma for an entire weekend.

"That was pretty insightful." Ardal said, rubbing the stubble that had started sprouting from his chin.

"I try my best. Or did you take me for a drunkard, like my Father?" he said through a sad smile.

"Not in the least. I'd wager it's pretty hard to become an officer through drinking prowess alone. That's a shame in of itself, but I digress."

"Ha, all too true, though I can name a few who got it from spitting Venom."

"Well, they're Roman, what'd you expect?"

"Nothing less. You dance better than I thought, Reyna must love you." Dakota said.

"Wouldn't that be something?" he paused, finally drawing his eyes away from the fights to level with Dakota's own.

They were still and calm, no longer glowing in the sunlight and had dulled back out to their original paleness. Nothing was present in them, and if he held any thoughts his eyes did little to betray them. Dakota could feel the gaze moving up and down him once more before resting on his own gaze. It was a piercing look that could have driven straight through his shield and armor in a single stroke, and likely exited out the other end. Sharp and unrelenting, it threatened to gut him like a fish and force him to spill everything if he so much as had the smallest slip up. Reyna had a gaze like that when she was serious; Jason had looked that way once when he had gotten mad at Micheal from the first for insulting himself after a war game. A small part of it remembered it from those nights in the woods all those years ago with a certain Wolf when they had first met, and much like then it scared the shit out of him. He had no problems with authority, righteous authority at least, and it wasn't that that made him uncomfortable. It was the same feeling as that Daughter of Venus in the senate who tried to frame him and get him fired from his position; in that it caused him to act involuntarily. It had all the danger of Alcohol for a Son of Bacchus in that expression. All he could do was wait for him to continue.

"How much do you believe in Fate, and I don't mean those old Hags."

"What?"

"Fate, destiny, prophecy, whatever name you call it by it doesn't matter. The will of the Gods or the

Universe; the idea that things are predetermined."

"I suppose I do. I've lost more than a few friends to Prophecies over the years."

"Likewise, but I still believe in free-will and coincidence."

He thought for a moment before answering. "You came here by coincidence?"

"In a way. It's no coincidence that I'd meet you all. She's probably out there getting a kick out of all of this, and there's no doubt there's a reason we met. But, I happened across this place, at this time, by chance. No guiding force lead me here, at least not that I know of. Just my own dumb choices."

'She'? He wondered. "Interesting way to look at things, but there's merit there. Debating philosophy isn't really my thing though."

"Not mine either. I prefer fighting anyways."

"Couldn't agree more. Shame we won't be getting you. If Alec is anything to go by, the Fifth definitely could've used you in the war game."

"War game?"

"Alec didn't tell you?" All he got in response was a simple shake of the mock-battle. Assault on a fort. We're assaulting."

"Ah, explains the combat drills."

"We're probably gonna get thrashed though."

"He mentioned that part."

"That is certainly like him."

"Well, to be truthful, all the Praetor said was I was to assist the Fifth with whatever duties they needed. Winning a war game certainly seems like a duty."

"Rome was known to conscript Barbarians as Auxiliaries in the later years of the Empire."

"Are you calling me a Barbarian?" he laughed.

"Figure of speech."

"Ah, of course."

"How do you feel like showing me a bit of what you've got?" Dakota said, glancing towards a small rack with various weapons on it.

"Making an injured man do so much work already? You're one hell of a bastard."

"Alec didn't tell you that much?"

"Oh he did." The guy laughed again, grabbing a small ax handle that lay nearby. Dakota cast him a curious glance at his choice of weaponry but said nothing to comment on it. Ardal didn't seem like he would've cared as far as he could tell as he moved around the shaft in his hand getting a feel for it.

"Nothing like a good piece of Hickory."

"That's Oak."

"It's a reference?"

He didn't get it and could only shrug in response. As if sensing his intentions, a boy of around seventeen and a stocky build locked eyes with Dakota and spoke a few words to his opponent before trotting over to Dakota. He watched as the boy stood in front of him, rendering a proper salute as he slung his sword in its sheath resting on his belt. The boy had a mane of light blond hair and was built like a typical high school football player, though such a thing didn't exist in the Camp, save for on the few televisions in the civilian portion of the Camp. His eyes were a beautiful blue, sharper and paler in complexion than Dakota's own. He wore the same armor as the rest of the members of the Fifth, complete with a purple t-shirt at least two sizes too small for him that had the sleeves removed making it a tank top. It certainly wasn't within regulation to do so, but passing it off as a training uniform, which the Legion didn't provide and therefore they were allowed to themselves, was a nice little loophole that had been discovered after a certain Son of Jupiter rose to the rank of Praetor. Ever since they had continued to use it to their advantage, despite the fact the other Praetor likely wouldn't care one way or another if they did it or not. The previous two, Gods rest their souls, probably would however, and one could never tell when the next head-ass with a master-bolt up their ass would come into power. Like a certain Legacy of Apollo who had been gunning at it for ages.

"Julian, how's it going?"

"Going well, sir. Last of the rounds should be finishing up shortly, so we can get the semis underway

pretty soon. What can I do for you?"

He watched as the Son of Apollo cast a side-eyed gaze over at Ardal who simply didn't see it, or more likely simply ignored it. They were about the same height, but Julian was at least twice the size and far more muscular than the stranger. But then again, that could be due to his shirt showing off his body, whereas Ardal's own was baggy and hid his figure, though a pair of well toned arms were visible from under the shadow of the jacket he wore upon his shoulders.

"You feel like you've got enough in you to give our friend her a small bout before the Semis?" He said, jerking a thumb Ardal's way.

The guy named Julian gave him another once-over, resting eventually on the ax handle he held in his hands. He raised an eyebrow.

"You're asking me if I can take on a guy with an injured leg and a stick for a weapon?"

"Nothing like a good piece of Hickory." The injured guy chimed in.

"That's made of Oak wood though."

"Man, do you guys ever get out and watch a movie or something?" His voice was tired and gruff and had a distinctly defeated ring to it.

"He's taken on Cyclopes, you know." Came a new voice that belonged to Alec, apparently having seen the gathering and made his way over to check out whatever was going on.

"So has Praetor Grace, and Dakota was still able to best him. With a Sword against a Spear. Strength ain't everything, kid."

Dakota didn't feel it prudent to point out the fact Julian and Alec were the same age and had the same number of years in the Legion. It was even lower on his list of priorities to remind them they had joined the Legion on the same day, at nearly the same time. They were like two twins who never stopped fighting, and if possible he'd assume they were a child of Apollo and Diana for the way they fought, and not that one was a Legacy of an unrelated God. One much younger than Apollo. Perhaps that's where his sense of seniority came from, but that was a stretch and even Dakota knew it. All he could do was sigh.

"True enough Julian, but nothing wrong with heading the advice of someone who's seen the guy fight first hand."

Alec beamed with a smile of victory before standing off to the side to watch the two enter the ring.

On one side stood the stocky Son of Apollo, just an inch shorter than his opponent across the ring from him. He had drawn his Gladius and elected to forgo a shield, no doubt having realized the uselessness of such a heavy object in a fight against someone with a stick. His armor had been removed as well, save for the vanguards he wore on his shins and forearms, with his helmet and chest plate being set off to the side with the remainder of his gear. Dakota knew the guy had been fighting pretty much all day, and even if his opponent was injured it would still weigh down on him, and perhaps even level the playing field or give Ardal a slight advantage. He watched Julian twirl the blade once in his hand before it came to a rest in his hand, facing point up and perpendicular to the ground. His arm was already half cocked as he stood across from his pale eyed opponent. His feet were offset slightly, opposite the staggering of his arms, poised in a position that was all too ready for a first strike. No doubt he hoped to end the fight in a few quick movements, slicing the handle of the ax in two and leaving his opponent defenseless and at his mercy.

The other end of the ring held the more curious of the two combatants and the one that everyone, including his own, eye's seemed to be fixed upon. After all, how often is it that one sees the second in command of a Cohort take on a brand new guy, even if they didn't know he wasn't actually a recruit. Even more so, few decided to take on a sword with nothing more than an ax handle, even in the most desperate of situations, but lord and behold here stood a guy not much older than them doing exactly that. Ardal was tall and he could admit that the guy stuck an imposing figure in that ring. His short auburn hair blew softly in the wind, as did the jacket that was around his shoulders, giving him an almost regal look, if it wasn't for the ax handle he held with two hands like it was the reins of an invisible horse that he was riding. There were also his eyes, that while only visible to half of the onlookers, held some power in their own right. They were no longer those expressionless and stoic pale orbs that he had found himself staring into when they were discussing the will of the Gods for they had been replaced by something else entirely. The gold in them churned and rolled like an angry sea right before a storm finally breaks and pelts the shore and sea with an unending torrent of rain and winds, and deep within that storm there was a brutal fire burning that flickered with every passing second, and the longer he stared into them, the more his blood began to boil. It wasn't the same as when he had looked into the eyes of Reyna during a mock battle a few weeks prior, nor was it the same power that flowed in the eyes of children of Mars when he had seen them in battle. No, this was different. He could feel it gnawing at the back of his mind, threatening to jump in and overwhelm his senses to the point he would struggle to move, and already he could see some of the younger ones around them start to cower as their muscles tenses up, not in fear, but in anticipation of something. It was an odd feeling, and he knew at once it was only his Father's blessing that had protected him from the madness in those eyes. If Julian was feeling the same, he didn't let it show, but ever so slightly his muscles seemed to tense as he stared down his opponent.

The engagement was quick, brutal, and overwhelmingly efficient, leaving the entire crowd speechless and a Son of Apollo, the second best duelist in the entirety of the Fifth Legion, next to Dakota himself, unconscious on the grass of the field with a nasty welt coming from the side of his head. In the immediate chaos of the result of the clash, he had the briefest moment to replay the events over again in his head, and he could see Alec doing much the same as he moved in to help check on the fallen Julian.

At first, there had been no movement from either of the teens as they sized up one another once more, a second look over to make sure they hadn't made any mistakes in their initial view of each other. At least that's how it appeared at first, until they realized that the footing of the new comer, Ardal, was still rigged and unmoving, unlike that of Julian who had begun to circle the arena, moving ever so closer to his opponent. It was evident that Ardal was standing still mainly because with his leg it would be wasted effort, though that was probably wasted on those who didn't know he was injured or weren't attentive enough to the way he was studying his opponent, waiting for what his move would be. The move itself came suddenly and with power and speed that'd catch most off guard. A downward swipe from his left shoulder down to his right foot was brought across his body and Ardal's leaving his body open. It was a powerful move and should've struck the ax handle, likely would've split it if not outright destroyed most of it, however, Ardal took advantage of such, placing himself within the guard of Julian to his surprise and catching his sword arms with his own as he attempted to bring it up to protect himself. Instead, he found Ardal rapping his wrist with the ax handle as he rode it down Julian's arm, pulling it behind him, disarming him and pushing him away. The whole time he had barely taken a few steps.

Julian tried to recover by rushing at his opponent unarmed, but Ardal only stepped back with a quick hop. Not wasting a moment, he brought down his stick, nailing the Son of Apollo in the knee cap, forcing him to fall to a single knee. A moment later the stick caught him on the side of the head, nearly causing his body to spin as it fell towards the ground. Dakota already knew he had been holding back, given the stick hadn't broken when he brought it against Julian's own head, though that was probably to prevent killing the poor kid. He could feel the impact on his own neck and just thinking about the crick he'd have in it for a few days was already causing his skin to crawl. All he could do was to end the bout and get some guys to carry the fallen teen over to the very same infirmary that Ardal had likely just left from. Everyone else, however, was still staring wide eyed at the guy who had just given someone a beat down without barely moving.

"Told you he was good." Piped up Alec, eyes full of pride, from somewhere near the front of the crowd.

"You know, I believed you, but it's still surprising."

"What can I say, I know how to pick them!" Alec replied smugly.

The only thing he could do was shake his head with a smile at Alec. Next he turned to Ardal, who was staring off in the direction of the fort that was under construction.

"I probably should've held back, huh" He said.

"Eh, Julian's tough. He'll be better in time for the mock battle. Probably." Dakota said, adding the last bit a second after.

Ardal just shrugged at his words as he returned the ax handle to the small display of weapons that were off to the side.

"Where'd you learn to fight like that, anyways? Alec told me you used a spear to fight the Cyclops."

He neglected the peculiar nature of the spear the guy had used. Conversation for another time he reasoned with himself.

"Ah, well, there was this time when our swords were...taken away, and since I had nothing else to use, my brother and I used sticks instead. Simple as that."

His eyes were back to their previous neutral, stone-like expressionless state.

"You have a brother?"

"Foster, but yeah. Took me in when I had nowhere to go. Good guy, better than me."

"Huh, assuming he's a Demi-God too?"

"Something like that. He explained it once, but it was complicated."

Dakota waited for elaboration, but seeing as none was given, elected to shift the conversation.

"So why didn't you bring out your Spear of yours? We probably would have sent someone for it."

"It's a spear for battle, not for training. You also had nothing similar here, so I went for the next best thing."

"And that was an ax handle?"

"Yeah?"

"Fair enough. But, I can't exactly send you into the mock-battle armed with a stick. Auxiliary or not."

"It'd probably get one hell of a rise out of that Praetor and the others." Ardal said. A visible grin

crawled across his face as he squinted against the sheen of the imperial gold weapons in the light of the sun.

"Oh, I'm sure it would. Be one hell of an ass chewing though."

"True" He watched Ardal pause for a moment, contemplating something. He allowed the silence to settle in as the others returned to their duties, which mainly were found in continuing to spar one another.

"Say, you said it was an assault on a fort right?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Three Javelins. That's all I need."

Naturally, he was curious as hell as to what his new found companion had in mind. What he could hope to achieve with three javelins, he had no idea, but already could tell it definitely would be a show. And that he could appreciate it. Even if it were to come from an outside source, the Fifth needed to do something to rattle up the other four cohorts, and not just for their own sake, but for that of the Legion as a whole.

"Alright, I'll bite. Alec, take our friend over to the Armory, get him whatever he thinks he may need for the mock battle. If anyone protests, especially a certain Lars, they can come deal with me."

Both Alec and Ardal smiled, but for radically different reasons he was sure, and watched as they tore off towards the Armory as fast as they could. Alec was in the lead, skipping ahead of his friend, and Ardal did his best to catch up, his laugh still audible even from many tens of meters away. Dakota himself could sigh and shake his head, already wondering how he was going to explain to Reyna whatever happened in the coming days when the mock-battle officially kicked off. Instead he focused his attention at present towards gathering up the gear of the fallen Julian and preparing to take it back to his barracks room.

He was just gathering the last of it when a roar tore across the Fields of Mars and he whipped his head around just to see a large cloud of dust flow out of the tunnel leading to the outside world. All he could do was stare on in disbelief as three figures emerged from the cloud of dust, two dressed as Legionnaires and even from a distance he already knew who they were; two more of his idiots. They were joined by a third carrying what looked to be an old lady on his back, and as far as he could tell he was no Legionnaire if the bright orange shirt he wore was anything to go off of. Behind the trio of teens and one strange old lady trailed, or rather slithered two ugly looking women, swords poised to cut down the trio. Already a terrible feeling of Deja Vu was washing over him as he recalled a particular Friday morning with two of his own idiots and another mysterious stranger. Immediately he dropped Julian's gear, handing off the responsibility to another, as he raced out towards the river Tiber once more.

Dining Pavilion; Camp Half-Blood

One of the eldest traditions that presided within the confines of Camp Half-Blood was also by far one of the most simple. Over the years the traditional followings of the faith had, naturally as one might assume, declined a fair bit. Holidays were forgotten or abridged to the point of adulteration of the high degree, rendering them a disfigured mess when compared to their original counterparts. In the end most were simply forgotten by the more carefree Greeks who were quick to adapt to the times, for better or worse. However, not all was lost. One of the simplest festivities in any culture still remained; the feast. Yes, every night of the summer in that small strawberry farm nestled into the woods and along the coast of the Long Island Sound was embellished in lively activity again and again. Arranged by tables of their Godly Heritage they sat and ate and joked about with one another, devouring the magically appearing and personal crafted food brought forth by magic to their palates. A well deserved reprieve after enjoyable but draining camp activities which pushed personal abilities and skills, physically and mentally. It was also a time of relaxation and tribute; food sacrificed to the Gods to thank them for their bounties and wonderful songs to uplift the soul even in the darkest of times.

When she was younger, Annabeth had never paid much attention to singalongs and speeches and jolliness that floated about these routine nights in the pavilion. Her mind was focused elsewhere, on training and bettering herself as she prepared for the quest that would finally springboard her towards the glory and worth she had always envisioned for herself. Once that was achieved, her mind fell to the constant scheming and training and strategizing that came with being a strategist in a massive war not seen more millennium. Hours were spent thinking of a next move, searching for friends and a way to stop the destruction of all she held dear. Simple things like a warm fire, good company and better times weren't something that laid at the forefront of her mind. It wasn't important to the war effort, the thought of morale seemingly escaping her analytical brain, and therefore it was not important to her. How such had changed. In the months since Percy's disappearance and those following the discovery of Jason and all he brought with him, she had begun to regard the little things in a much better light. The joy filled faces of her half siblings and the few friends she had among other cabins lifted her heart ever so slightly when images of a certain empty sea-green table fell into her line of sight. Talks with Leo about the Argo II, training with Piper or studying with Jason, many of which happened in this exact space seeming to pull time forward and remove her worries. Oh, how the company of others was something she missed so dearly, and how the feasts surrounding that fire had filled such a void, at least partially.

In truth, she knew that there was only one thing that could help her and every night as the date of departure grew closer, so did her anxiety. The feasts were a nice touch. Eating with Rachel had become one of her more enjoyable activities, the Oracle possessing no individual table of her own, was allowed to sit with whomever she pleased. Occasionally she fell in with the other members of the Apollo Cabin, sharing a relationship with them like distance or second cousin may, and would often talk to Will about receiving his help with various things. Often they related to a certain Son of the Sea, which filled her own heart with a soft fuzzy feeling of warmth, knowing others were putting forth the effort to search just as much. Most nights though the two girls, alike and different in many ways, sat together talking softly about past memories or whatever new and interesting things had happened at camp. Other times it was her helping Rachel understand parts of her dreams and visions which had been littered with deeper mythological elements she herself could not divine properly. Then, sometimes the roles would reverse and it would be her own issues, mostly revolving around her anxiety with the future, that would need counseling. Such was the exact situation she had found herself in on a particular Monday night, seated at what was normally the relatively empty table that was set aside for the children of Zeus.

Prior to the arrival of Jason, it had only been used briefly by Thalia, though now she sat with her fellow hunters at the Artemis table whenever the rare visits had occurred. Now, it belonged to the poor, previously memory withheld Son of Jupiter, and on many nights he simply sat there by himself, stealing glanced at a particular Head Counselor of Aphrodite's Cabin, but mostly just lost in his own world as he stared out towards the hearth in the middle of the pavillion, eating his food orderly like some sort of robot who was unsure of proper human manners. Rachel had been the first to sit with him, not being bound by the 'rule' that people had to stick with those who bore the same Godly blood in their veins. The two had been awkward at first, but soon hit it off as they talked about Roman arts and the Gods and a certain Legacy of Apollo whom Jason was far from happy with. Later they had been joined by Annabeth who would sit and join in on the conversations. It did wonders for the morale of all who were present, particularly Jason.

Thus at present the table had been made up of Jason, Tanya, Leo who was acting like he had ingested a gallons worth of coffee as he explored another tangent about the Argo II, and herself. Piper had been pulled away back to her table, partially out of jealous and partially to quiet down an argument between that table and the one belonging to Ares, God of War. At first they had also been joined Elin and Tanya, the Hermes table being too overcrowded even with additional folding tables, but after the day's events, that had changed. Casting a glance towards the Demeter table she could clearly make out the face of the pale girl among the darker hues of the gardeners and farmers who made up that table. She was happy to see the girl laughing and smiling as she talked with her fellow table mates. Strangely, despite even witnessing her 'green-toes' as Katie had put it, the young girl had not been claimed. Everyone figured it was likely to occur at dinner, and thus Chiron had allowed her to sit with the Demeter kids, but something about the look on his face made her uneasy. It reminded her of how he had first seemed when Jason arrived, leaving a sour taste in her mouth, despite the sweetness of the sauce on her spare rib dinner.

It only grew worse as she tossed her head side to side to stare up at the small stage that lay at the head of the tables and on the far side of the hearth which marked the center of the pavilion. On most days it would've been occupied by a certain half horse teacher and his companion, the annoying God of Wine among other less than savory things. Not that she nor anyone else would mention the latter part aloud. However, at current one of the two had been missing and the spot of a God was now replaced by a girl with locks of a wonderful scarlet color, and a girl she had fast become friends with. Usually when the Oracle had met with Chiron, as both a friend and veteran of the Camp she had been included in discussions, but her exclusion left a sour taste in her mouth. It drew up memories of Jason's initial arrival to Camp and years prior when information had been withheld from her before. It was a feeling she definitely didn't enjoy.

But her lineage as a Daughter of the Wisdom Goddess wasn't one just for show, and with skill she could make out bits of the conversation. A word here or there, a phrase or an unintended but reflexive gesture from either the Redhead or the older man was telling enough. However, the more she listened the less she wished she had as the dread began to build in her. 'Beast', 'Threat', 'Destruction' and gestures of fear were more than enough to cause her stomach to sink. Initially she feared for Percy, thinking it may be something related to the Romans. Such fears were struck down as she picked up on 'Prophecy' and 'Camp'. Instantly her mind went into overdrive processing tens of different things that could be rising as a threat to Camp. Giants already on the move, a great beast like the Drakon or Manticore approaching Camp, or maybe even something worse; the Romans on a warpath. From the information she had gained from Jason and shudder passed through her body silently. She was broken from her thoughts at the sound of talking at the table.

"...odd that it hasn't happened already."

"Maybe you're already claimed and just don't remember it."

"She should try to do something fancy like you did! Maybe that ought to trigger it? Like turning Clarisse into a Newt or something."

"What?" Annabeth broke the conversation causing her three tablemates to turn to her.

"We're talking about how it's weird that Tanya and Elin haven't been claimed yet." Jason answered.

She paused for a moment, shaking loose the thoughts of Rachel and Chiron for a moment to ponder on Jason's point. It was definitely a strange occurrence. Even the blond haired Son of Jupiter had been claimed for a second time at a dinner many months ago, yet with the evening winding down and the Apollo cabins' latest renditions of campfire songs dying away like the evening sun, not even the slightest hint had been given towards their mysterious guests.

"Maybe Leo's right."

"Yeah of course I am...wait what?"

"You serious Annabeth? That seems a bit far-fetched, and this is Leo we're talking about."

"Hey, if it worked for you, maybe it'll work for them. Tanya," She turned to face the young girl who had been busy staring at Rachel and ignoring all around her, "Is there anything your friend is really good at?"

The girl appeared startled at first at suddenly being called out to, but quickly regained composure.

"Singing" was the simple and confusing answer they got, considering she had literally been growing flowers from her feet earlier. But, this girl knew better than her, so they could trust her this much. Hopefully.

Unfortunately it seemed the Demeter kids had overheard a bit too much of their conversation and suddenly began jabbing and jousting the poor pale skinned girl until she was almost in the center of the pavilion standing just in front of the hearth which burned with a large flame, casting warmth into the cool summer night. Annabeth could only watch as the tiny Tanya shrunk even further under a glare from Elin sent her way, but it only lasted for a minute. Just like Piper it seemed she couldn't bring herself to be angry at the young girl, and even herself found it hard despite the fact she was likely hiding something important from them.

By now the full attention of the pavilion had been focused on the pale girl and whether through the flames so close to her body, or the many set of eyes glued to her, she couldn't have known, her pale face gave way to a soft and subtle rosy color rising up to her cheeks and forehead. It was likely a combination of both, and it was probably the first time she had seen the normally bubbling and social girl act in such a way. Annabeth knew first hand her voice was more hoarse and deeper than most girls. It was rugged and rough and was a sharp contrast to her pale skin and ethereal features which were only enhanced by the now growing moonlight overhead. If she had been told the girl before her was a muse or a spirit, she wouldn't have really been surprised by such. Her opaque like eyes seemed to shine like they had captured the rising moon in her own irises and a soft glow radiated off of her skin. It seemed like in a moment she would simply disappear like a mirage in the desert. Her form was so pristine, otherworldly and beautiful enough that even some of the female campers were blushing at her. A soft wind ruffled the loose strands of her hair that weren't in her neat braid and pulled her loose fitting clothes against her body revealing her gentle and rich curve. Annabeth could even feel a hint of heat rise to her cheeks staring at the girl, to the shock of herself. Jason and Leo weren't much better off looking like a pair of ripe tomatoes ready for picking. She knew it'd be hell if Piper saw this, but even she was likely taken aback by her form.

She was unsure where the idea popped into her head but she could tell she was at once a picturesque example of womanhood, despite being the same age as herself, she appeared much more mature. Her eyes were closed for a moment as she took a deep breath, more than a few boys watching the rise and fall of her chest under her light sweater, the sleeves rolled up to expose slender arms. It wasn't the beauty she had been known to expect in the children of Aphrodite. It was different than that. Womanliness, not beauty radiated from the young teen in front of her. There was a power before, soft and welcoming, nurturing even that reminded her all too much of Hestia when she had met her on occasion. Jason's reaction too was interesting to hear as it seemed he too was affected by the power of the girl in front of them, but she could not fathom why. There was something divine about her that seemed to surpass the notion of a simple Demi-God. Did it have to do with the fact that she was about to be claimed? A small part of her wanted to believe that, remembering the power that seemed to tense and gather around Jason prior to his announcement as a Son of Jupiter. Perhaps Venus, Aphrodite's Roman version, was where this girl came from?

A suddenly angelic voice drew her quickly from her thoughts. It was the voice of Elin, her moving mouth told her as much, but the soft and sweetness of the sound was unlike her usual rough sounding voice.

There will come a Soldier,

Who carries a mighty sword.

He will tear your city down,

O lai o lei o lord

Across the pavilion mouths hung agape, including her own at the voice emanating from the young girl. In contrast the children of Demeter and Apollo seemed to smile brightly as they seemingly prepared to jump in and fill the chorus.

O lei o lai o lei o Lord

He will tear your city down,

O lei o lai o lord

The chorus was handled fluidly by the members of Demeter's Cabin, having apparently already heard the song, likely when they were with Elin earlier in the day and the natural gift of song from those of Apollo added greatly to the melody. The rest of the song was wrapped up nicely in the silence of a stunned camp.

For a moment after the last verse and chorus rang out she found herself, among the others, repeating the words of the chorus over and over as if they were in some type of trance. After what felt like an hour the chorus finally died down and the area around the hearth was filled with ripe tension as all stared at the young pale girl, or rather the spot above her head. Even her own breath was bated as they waited to see what symbol might appear above her head and settle the issue that they had all day since they had arrived. Maybe she would even gain a few answers as well.

The only voices were hushed whispers among the children of the Hermes table as they made small bets with one another, trading chores and drachmas in exchange for betting on who would claim the beautiful young teen standing before them. Even Chiron and Rachel had ended their conversation in order to see what would become of the girl after her small concert. The current guess was tied between Demeter and Apollo though a few were clambering that she had to be a Daughter of Aphrodite, given her appearance of beauty in her singing and performance. And thus Annabeth waited with the others seconds grew into minutes, and minutes grew into a quarter of an hour, the flames of the fire rising higher and higher before eventually becoming a torrent of tongues of flame, shifting between a rainbow of colors as shouting broke out across the pavillon.

"See, she's still Demeter!"

"No way, she has to be Apollo. You heard how she sang!?"

"Why hasn't she been claimed after that?" A reasonable person sent out.

"If no one will take her, we will" Cried more than a few from the Aphrodite and Hermes cabin at once.

The latter being worrisome but Annabeth put that aside as she watched Chiron rise from his seat, now in his true form and saunter down to the ground with a bit of uneasy haste. Such earned a curious raise of the eyebrow from Annabeth and it seemed she was not the only to notice for Jason and Tanya had both seen him arrive and whilst Jason shared her own sentiment and sense of dread seemed to swim in the deep purple eyes of their mysterious guest. Did she perhaps know what Chiron was to say? Or was she merely assuming due to the fact that she was with Rachel during her collapse that she would be involved in whatever was to be said? Her mind was swimming with questions and it took effort to drag herself from the little intricacies of her mind to focus on her mentor clearing his throat on center stage, flanked by the familiar redhead who looked just as distressed as Tanya.

"Quiet!" Bellowed the deep and commanding voice of the ancient teacher of heroes and at once the whole area had gone silent as they focused on the imposing figure of the Centaur among their ranks. The look of relief on Elin's face was not lost on the old Centaur who smiled sympathetically at the girl.

"I realize that the recent events have raised some concerns and unrest among you all," he paused to look over at the two girls who were the source of it all, one blushing and the other shrinking down once more from sight of the others around her.I do am confused, but surely the Gods, as silent as they have been must have their reasoning for whatever is going on. I ask that you trust in their Judgement in these dark times, and all will be revealed eventually."

For a brief moment it seemed to her that some wanted to protest, including herself but Chiron raised his hand to block an opposition before it could occur.

"We also have reason to believe that there may be a threat to Camp looming or perhaps a new Quest that may lead to some answers we have been seeking for some time. Including those about our two new guests."

Silently Annabeth watched as the young Oracle next to Chiron stepped forward, taking a deep breath as she likely prepared for a Prophecy to be foretold, and already those from the Apollo Cabin had moved forward to prepare to receive her once the Prophecy had been spoken. However, Annabeth's mind was once more elsewhere. Something about what Chiron had said caught her attention. He hadn't referred to the two girls as new Camper, rather as guests. Those that weren't permanent. It wasn't the same way he referred to Jason, another guest on technicality, when he had arrived. This was different. It was how someone referred to a passing occurrence, not one that was purposeful. Jason was meant to be here, that much she had been able to figure out. Such was the Quid Pro Quo in a way for both the Demi-Gods and their parents and ancestors in the heavens, or rather Olympus. This wasn't that. It wasn't the exchange of leaders that was Percy and Jason's involuntary Odyssey. No, these two girls were truly guests, travelers, unexpected in every concept of the word and Chiron had known this. Her mind went racing. She knew well enough they weren't Greeks by the way they regarded the Gods, but then Romans?

Had they been searching for Jason and found him? No, she knew that couldn't be true or else why would they act like they didn't know him. He was a big deal at his Camp supposedly if she understood anything about being a Praetor. There was the fact that they had said they had been living elsewhere, the North specifically, before arriving in Camp. She had never pondered on the fact there might be other safe places for Demi-Gods besides Camp, but that was before she learned of New Rome. If that could exist, maybe there were other settlements? Perhaps this one was not on good terms with New Rome and that's why they seemed to avoid Jason, instinctively. There were plenty of possibilities, she knew, and having one hidden city definitely meant there could be more. Though something was nagging in the back of head, given they were so close to Canada, a place few Demi-Gods went to, much less returned from, Jason, Leo, and Piper being the only she had ever heard of.

An audible and exaggerated gasp brought her back to the land of the present. She glanced up from her empty plate of food to see the form of Rachel in the middle of what seemed like the delivery of a prophecy. Green smoke slunk around her like snakes winding through the grass and coiled up on the side of invisible trees, climbing higher and higher in the sky and playing against the dying light of the sun as the moon took it's stance as at the center stage of the heavens for the time being. However, instantly she could tell something was wrong. Rather than standing taller, her form was hunched over and her hands pressed against her temples as if she was having a terrible migraine. The rest of her body wasn't in much better shape, shaking softly back and forth like she was in some kind of massage chair that had been turned up to a hundred and was hooked up to a nuclear reactor to provide power and would probably scramble her insides like they were eggs in a bowl. Even the air around her seemed to be conflicted as the smoke swirled wildly and snakes born of the mist clashed against one another and scrambled in different directions, causing many Campers, especially those that had only seen the Oracle once or twice to scramble away in fear.

Annabeth, however, was not to be deterred and with Jason by her side rushed off from the table and towards their friend who was suffering in an unknown agony. Yet, before they could even get close, the large body of Chiron quickly intercepted them in their path, placing himself between the pair of blonds and the redhead. He didn't say much, just simply shaking his head, but his hardened features told Annabeth all she needed to know; this was not something she could interrupt, likely being dangerous to herself and her Rachel as well. And quite frankly she hated it. Being led into the Dark over and over again ever since the Titan War. Percy's disappearence, Jason's arrival, the Romans and everything surrounding it was boiling up the surface and joining with months of being seperated from that dumb Son of Sea and threatened to explode then and there like a certain underwater volcano all that time ago. She was nearly about to let it all go sky high when the form of Rachel suddenly straightened up, but instantly she knew something was wrong. The typical mystic and ancient green eyes that told of the forthcoming of the Oracle's spirit were gone and in their stead were a pair of all too familiar deep purple orbs which flickered back and formed with that familiar light green, as if there was a fight going on inside Rachel's body. And she was willing to bet there likely was. Unfortunately all she could do was simply stare and wait for whatever cryptic message could be delivered this time.

Wherein lies the Black Beast of Greed,

Sits a once more planted seed.

A blade bathed in righteous flame,

Awaits one who's temperament will tame,

And gather thrice heroes of three to see through the deed

For a moment everyone was silent, letting the words of the Oracle, or whatever spirit was currently inhabiting Rachel's body speak. The voice was most definitely not the Oracle's, she could tell as much. Rather than the hissing of a thousand snakes, the voice was calm and beautiful but it left a chill climbing up her spine like a late fall's breeze drifting silently through the trees of the forest, causing her and most around to shiver at the sound. After speaking, the redhead naturally collapsed, her face flush and panting heavily. She didn't need to be a Child of Apollo to be able to tell that she had developed a sudden fever. Instantly a number of Apollo's children were upon the poor girl and getting ready to haul her off. Strangely enough Will stayed behind, as she was rushed off and naturally all eyes of the pavillon were on him. Even without his input she knew something was off. She, in all her years had never heard such a prophecy before.

"It's a Lymeric" The Son of Apollo slowly drawled out. '

"A what?" She called.

"A type of poem, it has an 'aabba' rhyme scheme. Most are an 'aabb' or 'abab' pattern..."

"So it's unnatural? But haven't we had longer Prophecies?" A certain Daughter of War spoke.

"Yes, but they follow the same rule, just with an extra line or a 'cc' part added in."

"Chiron, what's going on?" It was her turn to ask. But even she could see the Centaur himself was puzzled.

"It means that your boat is going to be taking a few more passengers with it." A snark from somewhere.

All still present whipped around to spot a pale, young boy seated just on the other side of the hearth. Immediately she recognized the familiar mop of messy pitch black hair and the thin arms with only the slightest show of muscle upon them, covered by a thick aviator jacket, largely out of place in. His face was covered by shadows from the fire playing against his features, but despite that, large heavy bags, like shelves carved below his eyes, were easily present. Clearly the young boy hadn't slept in sometime, but that was natural for the Son of Hades. What wasn't, however, was how matter of fact he had been given the way he was shaken up just the other day when he had come to speak to Chiron on the underworld matters. She knew he had likely been to New Rome at some point, though he wouldn't admit to such, even if the cat was out of the bag. Then what had he been doing to come back now she could only wonder. It was Chiron who, surprisingly, spoke next.

"All campers return to your cabins," He boomed across the Campers, there will be a war counsel in fifteen minutes in the Big House. Tanya and Elin, please join us as well."

Dining Hall; Camp Jupiter

All things considered, Percy couldn't really remember many weekends that he had had, though to be fair he couldn't remember much of anything past a month or two ago. Regardless, being chased by what were seemingly unkillable snake ladies was something he hoped ranked low on his scale of terrible weekends to good weekends. It was a hope, as the past three days of running for his life, despite the fact he too seemed invincible, were some of the worst. He could tell from a glance he was in decent enough shape, and the hellish training that strange Wolf had put him through ensured that, but despite himself he was getting tired at a faster pace. Near continuous running and angry snake ladies likely didn't help, as he also couldn't remember the last time he had slept for more than an hour or so at a time. By the time he had encountered the Old Hippie lady on the highway he was running on fumes like he had pulled an all-nighter and the caffeine was wearing off. Not that he really knew if he had ever done that, but that's what using up your entire supply of adrenaline and running a marathon every day would do to a kid. He was only sixteen or seventeen, as far as he could guess, after all. Things had only gotten slightly better after his old hippie companion turned out to be a Goddess and he was now drafted into some sort of Roman reenactment with very real weapons. A small part of him hoped it was a dream, but he wasn't sure you could be tired in your own dream so he just went off the assumption it was, for better or worse, real.

The remainder of his first day had gone by in a flash, and seeing as it was hardly as eventful as running for his life, it made sense in his mind. There was the meeting with the latino girl who he was sure knew who he was, or at least more about him than he knew about himself, which was a worrying statement considering he couldn't remember her. Yet, she had felt the need for whatever reason to ignore this fact and treatment as if they had just met. Despite what others might believe, or at least what his gut seemed to tell him others would think, he wasn't a complete idiot. Sure, that girl named Annabeth had called him a 'Seaweed Brain' whatever that was supposed to mean, but he felt it wasn't quite an insult. Probably. Regardless, he knew enough that whatever had led this girl with startling dark eyes to know his name was probably not a pleasant memory, and he could respect that. He might just have a heart attack if he ever ran into someone named Euryale again, though he doubted it. So for the time being, he wouldn't push his luck. Then there was the meeting with that creep of a guy named Octavian and some strange ghost who continued to call him what he would later come to know was a slur. Unfortunately the ghost was intangible, as he quickly found out after the nature of the word was revealed to him. Luckily though, Octavian was still tangible, something he swore he'd put to good use next he got the chance.

Everything else had been pretty simple. He was sponsored by the Fifth Legion and met with a few of the members including the Centurion Dakota. The guy was a Son of Bacchus with a Kool-Aid drinking problem, though to be fair he thought the guy was quite good at drinking. Despite having never met the man, he could tell he was letting on more than it seemed. The guy was quiet in the way that he seemed to only speak when it was important. His questions were pointed and straightforward, hardly ever beating around the bush, yet all the same they lacked the bite one would expect from such blunt questioning. It was nice that his new Commander was someone who took no shit, he could appreciate that in someone, though the idea of having a person commanding over him rubbed him the wrong way for a reason he couldn't understand. Whenever he thought of it a prickling sensation crawled up the nape of his neck and a small knot formed in his stomach, like whenever he found himself in a bad part of town or those snake sisters were too close by. There was a clear wrongness to it, but seeing as he had nowhere to go and was officially branded, he decided to ignore it. He could tell Frank greatly respected the man, since he had been talking his ear off about him ever since he had been sponsored to the Fifth.

The other person he ran into was the Optio or rather the Optio Centurionis as Frank had made it known to him. He was still getting a grasp on latin, much to the confusion of the others he had met so far, but even he could easily tell that the guy must have been something special. Optio were usually elected or the person who was deemed to be next in line to take over the Cohort when the acting Centurion retired or fell, as a certain Wolf had explained to him. This man, Alec was his name, was different. He had been hand selected by the acting Centurion, Dakota, for his merit. He was not voted into his position, nor was he the most senior soldier among them, at least at his time of selection. Apparently he even had a bit of a disruptive streak. In Alec's own words he had stated, 'Garrison life isn't the life for me' or something along those lines if Frank was to believed. He could only laugh at that. Already he could feel a kinship between him and the redheaded Optio upon their first meeting. There was something about his mischievous grin he cracked and the way he carried himself that reminded him of someone he had once known, though he couldn't remember who exactly for the life of him. At the very least he knew it to not being Annabeth and silently said a curse towards a certain memory stealing Goddess, and in return heard a roar of thunder much closer than he would've liked. However, the teen Alec was much more than a simple trouble maker. He was exceptionally well built and toned, despite being only a little older than Percy and supposedly he wasn't even a full blooded Demi-God, which seemed weird to say. The guy had put in the work and Frank's retelling of the 'epic' tale of how the Centurion of the Third Cohort was anything to go on, the work was paying off quite well.

Finally after a gruelling day of meeting new people and attempting to get used to the flow of the Roman Encampment, dealing with a strange Son of Pluto who he swore he knew but was also ignoring but for a reason he intuitively knew was different than Reyna's, he found himself half asleep in the Dining Hall of New Rome. There were only two things, after all, keeping him awake at present. First was the food and the atmosphere, which technically was two, but he was too tired to deal with technicalities at the moment. It had been days since his last decent meal and he was chowing down on the plates of food served by ghostly waiters like it was his last meal on death row and drinking a castaway's fill of blue coke. Why it was blue, he wasn't exactly sure, but it just felt right so he went with it. The other half was the fact that the large room was filled with over a hundred people all talking and eating and laughing and having a generally good time with one another. Part of it, he was told, was the War Game that was set to occur later in the week and everyone was itching for another shot at glory, which he couldn't quite understand but kept such thoughts to himself. There was also the fact he was currently sitting at a makeshift table carried in from outside, apparently they didn't have a enough seating, where he was enjoying time with the only Legion members he knew; Frank, Hazel, Alec, and for some reason Dakota who complained that sitting at the head of the table was a pain. He wasn't about to complain; he enjoyed the company after having dealt with the Wolves and, ironically he laughed to himself, being on the lam.

The second reason he was still awake was much more puzzling to him, and was yet another case of strange Deja Vu for the young Son of the Sea. Across from him at the table sat a strange teen, older than himself and he guessed in his early twenties probably. His face was marred with old cuts and scrapes, as were his exposed forearms, most of which had turned a soft white making them visible against his tanned skin. It wasn't the same hue as Percy's own and was probably artificially gained from the sun, rather than something that he had been born with like the Sea Spawn he was. The guy had a loose mop of Auburn hair that seemed to move almost like it was flowing and reminded him of the Whiskey he had seen in the Grocery store where he had most recently met the Snake Sisters. He shuddered slightly at the thought. What really caught his attention though, were the guy's eyes. They had a strange pale yellow complexion. It was a soft color that shined brightly when the light of the hall fell upon them and they seemed to almost be sparkling, but staring into them brought him an immense feeling of unease. He wondered if it was possible for a Son of Neptune to feel seasick, but Percy would've guessed it probably felt like this. Just looking at those orbs of gold reminded him of something; a distant memory tucked away in the depths of his clouded mind. Something he knew was tied deeply to this 'Annabeth' but unlike the warmth that spread throughout his body when he thought of her, all these golden eyes brought him a melancholy sadness that seemed intent on drowning him. He almost swore he could hear a chilling laugh somewhere in the distance as he struggled to place those eyes to a time or a name. However, his one-sided staring contest hadn't gone unnoticed.

"Ardal." Called the guy with the pale yellow eyes.

"Huh?"

"My name. It's Ardal."

"Percy." He replied instinctually, grasping the guy's outstretched hand. His grip was tight like iron he noticed immediately and familiar calousess rubbed against his own on his sword hand.

"Mmm, nope. Can't say I see a resemblance."

"Resemblance? What are you talking about?"

"You haven't heard?" Ardal replied with a raised eyebrow.

He could only shake his head in response.

"Everyone seems to think you two are Brothers" Added Alec nonchalantly as he continued to share a toast of kool-aid with a Dakota who seemed bordering on sugar-drunk.

"Yeah, and who's fault is that I wonder, hmm?"

"Why would they think that?" emI also don't seem much of a resemblance to be honest Percy thought.

"'Cause of that stunt you pulled with the Tiber of course!"

"Wait, you can control the water too?"

"Dunno, I was unconscious when it happened." He shrugged. "Anyways, I've heard Kids of Neptune,

Jupiter, and Pluto," He was interrupted by a large crack of thunder in the distance, but didn't even flinch, "Are supposed to be pretty strong."

"I wouldn't really know. I've never really known another one well, at least I don't think so."

A wicked smile spread across Ardal's face, "Arm wrestle me. Right here, right now" And with that stuck his right arm across the table.

"What?"

"Come on, it'll be a good time."

He looked cautiously towards his other friends at the table only to see both Dakota and Alec staring at him like he was about to do a flip or something. Their eyes were practically egging him on. He tried to search for Frank only to find him blushing like a school boy whilst talking to a familiar curly haired Legionnaire. With his bastion of practicality gone all he could do was give him and lock hands with the mysterious pale eyed guy in front of him. Instantly he felt the familiar iron like grip clamp down on his hand and refuse to let go, like his very life depended on this grip he held and gave no signs of backing down. He tried his best to match the intensity, putting his strength into his grip, but at the end of the day he was wincing whilst those pale eyes showed no sign of irritation or pain if he was feeling any. With a silent conversation between the two the competition began as the two poured their strength into their right arms. Muscles tightened against skin and veins began to pop out against the surface of the skin like bodybuilders and for an instant he was in awe of not only his own forearm and strength but also that of the guy who sat across from him. But he was a Son of Neptune, king of the seas as the Old Hippie Bitch of a Goddess had told him, and he wasn't about to let his father's name be tarnished. Like a surging storm and rocking tides he let the power of the tides flow through his body pumping more and more power into his arm, causing it to tip ever so slightly into his favor.

For minutes, which to him seemed to drag on like hours, the two teens stood locked into their engagement of arms. A clash of swords made of flesh as their strength fought against one another in the purest competition that could be enacted between men. No skill was needed or wanted, just as much raw strength as they could gather up into their bodies as they pushed one another. Like the ocean their laced hands pivoted back and forth, to and fro, sometimes in Percy's favor and other in that of Ardal. Already quite the crowd had gathered around them from the Fifth and even a few curious spectators from the Fourth, who were sitting next to them, had wandered over to see the constant between the cursed Son of the Sea and the mysterious Auxiliary of the Fifth. More than a few were passing around coins as bets were placed on who would win. The strength of one of the Big Three, even if not the 'Roman' big three was something that even Percy knew, at least from being told, was nothing to scoff at, but he also knew he was facing a man who hand fought hand to hand with Cyclopes and was still standing before him. Never mind he was still supposedly under the weather.

Suddenly, he was struck by a curious thought and risked turning his battle to turn his eyes up at the face of his opponent, and the expression he found was certainly a surprising one. Throughout the night, whilst he could tell Ardal had been social and was enjoying his time, there was always this stoic expression that rested in his eyes, like he had forgotten something at home and as a result he couldn't focus properly. Or perhaps even it was more akin to saying he felt out of place, something Percy could relate with immensely. Now, however, those pale eyes seemed to crackle with an energy not yet seen by the Son of the Sea, and contained a fire in them that spread down to his lips that were curled up in a large wry grin that reminded him all too much of Alec. Apparently, once more, Ardal could tell he was being watched and lifted his eyes up from the contest of literal arms, to stare at Percy's own. Though he couldn't explain it, he felt like some sort of understanding passed between himself and Ardal in that moment and felt his own face relax from a contorted expression of grueling struggle to a calm smile. In the next instant, as if in sync both teens placed their free hand onto the old marble table and from somewhere deep in his body, that not even he was aware of, new strength seemed to pour forth like a torrent wave, despite how calm his body felt. His companion seemed to be doing the same if the intensity of his grip was anything to go by, but even then he could no longer feel the power of it. Something within himself clicked. Whatever this feeling was, it felt right. Competing against this stranger, no this friend of his, seemed to make sense.

No more than a moment later after his revelation did he feel the cracks of the table form beneath his elbow and faster than either boy could react, the table imploded upon itself from the strength of their grip, cracking into thirds in clean lines from where their elbows had once been. The sudden disappearance of the table led his body to fall to group with a large thud was accented by the sound of glass and ceramic plates breaking all around him and the background buzz of some fifty spectators and an entire room of over two hundred suddenly going ghostly quiet. All he could do was look over at the form of Ardal covered in a mix of food and beverages, that same stupid smile still plastered on his face as he looked back at what he could only assume was himself covered in much the same way.

Suddenly there was the sound of barking dogs and feed shuffling to the side approaching from the far end of the room. He knew the sound all too well and quickly shot up to his feet, pulling Ardal, who was much heavier than he expected, to his feet as well. They exchanged glances with one another and then Dakota, who had also fallen and had a dumb smile barely containing a full on explosion of laughter, before turning tail and sprinting for the door.

"I leave this in your capable hands, my Optio" Was all Dakota said before he practically shoved the two boys out into the cool summer evening, the trio laughing the whole way as they jogged away from the dining hall on the hill.

For a while all Percy could do was run, trying his best not to fall as he continued to laugh alongside Ardal and Dakota. How long had it been since he last laughed this way? He was sure, but he was going to enjoy it as a small part of his brain told him it may be the last for a long while, though the thought did little to sober him up. Instead it just made him burst even more to the point that small trickles of tears were falling down his face like small rivers from the power behind his laughter. What he could only assume were months of confusion and pain and hardship were lifted from his shoulders in that instant and he felt truly relaxed. It was different than when he had escaped from the Snake Sisters. Different still from when that Old Hippie had told him he'd be able to gather his memories if he stayed here. It wasn't the comfort he felt when Frank and Hazel had decided to take him into their home despite the fact he had never met them before and being a Son of Neptune was apparently a cruise here. This was genuine. The kind that filled his body whenever he had thought of Annabeth. Not the same level of intensity, but the same core feeling was there and he was happy for it. He didn't know why, but it just felt right and for a moment the strangeness of being in New Rome faded, the calls of the Lars egging slurs at him became deafened and the unease in his stomach at the sight of Ardal's pale eyes receded to the depths of his clouded mind. He was just a normal guy again, having a good time with friends. Ignoring the fact most normal people couldn't crack a marble slab with the force of an arm-wrestling match, but still, after all that transpired it was a nice change of pace.

Dakota was the first to break the cycle of laughter between the three.

"Well, I can't just leave poor Alec out to dry, I think I'll go back and take over for him."

Percy and Ardal simply nodded at this.

"Oh, and I'll be sure to make up an excuse for you two" He added with a wink before jogging back towards the beacon of light in the distance that was the Mess Hall.

Such left the pair alone, chuckling to themselves in the soft light of the moon, which Percy noticed was shining off Ardal's own eyes to the point they seemed to glow. His friend was the one to break the silence this time.

"Guess my Uncle was always right after all" He mused.

"In what way?"

"That oddities always attract one another."

The statement took him by surprise.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Hmm? You can't tell? We don't exactly fit in here." He guestered around to the entirety of New Rome with a sweeping gesture.

"You feel that way to then, huh"

He nodded softly in response, "Have ever since I saw Frank and Alec in their armor. I could also tell you didn't fit as well."

"You could?"

"The Lars aren't exactly subtle with their words towards us."

"They call you a Graecus too?"

"Not quite. Insulanus."

"Islander," He translated instantly, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I was born on an island."

He waited for further explanation, but none seemed to come, so he elected to sigh instead.

"You're worried about something else, aren't you. Memories perhaps? I heard from Frank"

At first he felt surprised that the guy had known about it, he didn't seem to be the meddlesome variety, save for that fiasco in the Mess, but it seemed he was mistaken. All the Son of the Sea could manage was a somber nodding of his head. In response he received a long, drawn out, but not exaggerated or mocking sigh.

"I don't need the gifts of my siblings and Uncle, nor the teachings of my Master to tell you too carry a heavy burden, Perce. Hardship awaits you my friend, you know it to be true as well I'm sure."

He took the silence as a sign to continue.

"I'd know cause I've carried my fair share of burdens too. Trust in your friends, and I'm sure you'll see it through. And if not, come find me and we'll go have a 'chat' with that bitch of a Goddess!"

Somehow, despite the absurdity of what he had just heard, a small part of him believed his new found friend was completely serious. His thoughts were only reinforced by what was possibly the loudest clap of thunder he had ever heard, so loud he nearly tripped, yet his friend seemed to continue walking as if it were simply a light breeze. The pair were definitely different, Ardal was right about that much, but at the same time they weren't the same. He was a Greek, if the Lars were to be believed, but what in the Gods name was an Islander? Someone from Sicily or Crete perhaps? Maybe even Malta, he wasn't sure and it didn't seem like he'd get any answers soon, as the weight of the days activities seemed to catch up with him. With a quick bow he excused himself to return to the barracks.

The coolness of an early summer's night on the West Coast, specifically California was something that Alec knew all too well. It was one of the few good things he saw as a reward for his service in the Legion, alongside that of the colorful sunsets that radiated from the horizon all year long, and the fact that the temperature never seemed to dip too cold. Though by the Gods did it get unbearably hot sometimes to the point of wishing he was still stuck in the frigid north of Michigan just to alleviate a bit of the dreadful humidity that would pull down on his limbs like lead weights during Dakota's infamous Ten Mile Mondays that he put the Fifth through. They may not have been the best Cohort for a myriad of reasons, but few could ignore the fact that they certainly did not fall behind when it came to physical endurance and strength. Even if it was slowly killing him on the inside, but seeing as they had the fewest casualties in the War, he could put up with it for at least a few more years till his retirement.

Regardless it was a welcome respite after the chaotic mess he had witnessed in the Mess Hall just minutes prior. Sure, the Fifth and the Legion as a whole had been known to get rowdy on occasion, and with a War Game scheduled for the following day, it would make sense that energy was a little high. He had even witnessed a few fights break out in the middle of dinner, though he overlooked the fact that at least more than half of them had been directly influenced by himself. Why people decided a meal was the best time for confrontation, in front of all their peers, he couldn't fathom. Never though in all of his years had he seen two people physical destroy something in the mess hall, even if it was an old unused marble table. That wasn't where he drew the issue though; what it was was how Dakota, his friend of years of senior officer, had abandoned him to face the fury of an already over stressed Praetor.

O' the Humanity! he clambered in his mind to an unseen recipient.

To be completely honest with himself he was a decent liar when required, but this was a bit too much for him to recover from. It was like mugging someone in front of the Police Station and then acting like it had been an exchange between associates. This was far beyond lying through his teeth. How lucky he was then, that Dakota appeared no more than a few minutes later ushering Alec out silently as he took on the wrath of a Praetor and Daughter of a War God. All he could was wince as he spoke a silent prayer for his long time friend and escaped through the same door he had seen Percy and Ardal pass through earlier. The feeling of a soft breeze licking at his sweat covered face was more than enough to sober him up from the heat pouring off the Praetor like a bonfire. However, what truly caught his attention was the hushed words floating along the wisps of air like ships upon the sea.

Graecus...Insulanus... Words the redheaded Legacy knew all too well had been shoved down the throats of his two newest friends since the day they had arrived. Whilst the Lars were among the few who didn't reprimand or belittle him for his heritage, he had seen his fair share of insults as well, and hearing the openness of which they talk about it caused the stirring of embers somewhere deep in his body. Instinctively his hands tightened into fists, blurring in a white almost as pure as snow as the veins on his forearms bulged and trembled ever so slightly. He wasn't known as the Fiery Lion of the Fifth simply because his hair was a startling color; the reputation of his rage far preceded him to the point that it was easy to forget he was not a Legacy of Mars nor Bellona.

He lost, in his anger at the spirits still trapped in their old ways, thought of no fault of their own, he missed the other words that continued to dance about on the early evening's breeze. Of course they still reached his ears, but simply spun around them and were nothing more than a simple whistle to accompany the bristling breeze. The words of weight and burdens, of similarities passing far beyond heritage and delving into the deepness of a soul scattered to the winds like dandelions in a sudden storm; lost forever and impossible to gather them all once more. By the time his anger had simmered down one of the two travelers of the old cobblestone path had departed in a different direction and made haste towards the city proper. In lue of the newly widowed figure shuffling along ahead of him he simply hastened his pace to fall in stride with him as was a common habit of soldiers in one another's company.

What sort of figures did they could out against the night he wondered silently. Two of the strangest of the Legion, one a veteran, the other considered Green. One known for his anger and bluntness, the other a mysterious strength with about as much drive as a leaf floating down a river, happy to see where the current would land him. Dakota had passed along as much after their conversation on the training ground. Coincidence wasn't something he put much weight into, after all literal Gods hung over his head and directed the fate of their lineage on a whim. A Son of Apollo who lost two fingers; a Daughter of Love who could no longer speak; a Son of Mars scared of his own shadow; a Daughter of Vulcan who had atrophy in her arms. Yes, he had witnessed his fair share of cruel irony twisted upon his loosely connected relatives. Things happened for a reason, he was sure of it. The life of one who carried the Blood of Rome would be too painful to endure if such grievances were brought forth at random. Maybe it was his own way of shouldering the burden of his own existence, he wasn't sure.

He couldn't guess as to why the suspected Spawn of Neptune had arrived in Camp, as much as he detested that unofficial title of his friend who seemed to deny it just as fervently. Surely a person who could hold off several Cyclopes of his own strength was not a person who randomly showed up on the door of Rome. Hell, Perce was the same way. A Goddess vouched for him on his first day after all. Something was pulling the strings to bring Ardal here, he was sure of it.

But that still didn't dash the nagging that continued eating away at the back of his mind whenever he thought of his friend's situation. Something was always out of place. His strength when fighting those Cyclopes; His weapon that pinned the Cyclopes to that tree; the conversation he had with Dakota and the skill he showed against Julian. There was also the way he talked about his home and those, likely Demi-Gods, still waiting for him back somewhere. He knew well enough it wasn't Rome and after his accidental eavesdropping wherever Perce had come from.

He tried to push his thoughts aside and return to the serenity of the night around him. There were few in the Legion who called him a friend and fewer still who understood the value of silence between companions. With Frank it was always too tense and stale, Frank himself always nervous that they weren't talking nor occupied. Percy hadn't been too much better, since he liked to talk it would seem and Hazel was basically a no-go cause she trusted the Legacy about as much as sheep trusts a wolf. Somewhere deep down that comparison hurt his pride. Just a tiny bit though. Dakota was probably the only one who could ever match it, but that was probably because he had been there with him during the Assault. He knew how nice the silence was. Ardal knew it too, he could tell on a fundamental level. However, he wasn't the only one good at reading people and finally some manner of talk broke the silence.

"There's a refreshing wind out tonight." Ardal said.

"It's not much of a summer's night without one."

"It's coming off the water, probably the Pacific."

"The ocean," Alec said with a jerk of the thumb to their rear, "Is the other way. Can't be coming off the sea."

"A breeze like this always comes from off the water."

"But this isn't from the sea."

"There must be a lake nearby by then." Ardal said. "Is there a lake somewhere close?"

"No, there's no Lake near the camp."

"There must be a lake near the camp. The wind is coming from the water."

"Not any lake that I know of."

"Then you just haven't found it yet."

"Where do you suppose I should look then?" Alec asked.

"I wouldn't know. I've never had to search for a Lake before."

"I haven't much either."

"Perhaps where the wind comes from would be a good place to start?"

"Seems as good a place as any." Alec added with a huff like a bull.

After the short exchange of blows, like a shroud, silence once again fell between the two friends once more. In tandem they traveled the say steps down the old cobble street, the sound of boots clicking against it joining the melody of crickets and cicadas like a solid baseline. It complemented well with the rich voice of the winds singing through the open Field of Mars which they flanked. However, the air surrounding the two was far from the peaceful silence that had once encased them in the world of their own. Rather it was thick and charged and reminded him all too much of being around a certain Legacy of Apollo he knew. It infuriated him to now end and he silently apologized at the insult he had just unconsciously leveled at his good friend.

"You're not very Roman yourself."

A sigh passed through his mouth with a soft whistle.

"I suppose you're right. The Blood of Rome is thin in my veins."

"Blood of Rome?"

"So you haven't heard?"

"Can't say I have."

"Blood of Rome. Our connection to the Gods. Rome is tied to them and as their children we are tied to Rome as well. Seeing as we are no longer truly Romans the closer our connection to the Gods, the more Roman we are. You've noticed the way Reyna is?"

"Quite Roman. Oppressively so."

Something about the way he had spoken it caused that soft nagging in his mind to grow with a feral growl as it raced towards the forefront of his mind. Without Alec realizing it his face contorted ever so slightly with a pained look that got a weary glance from Ardal, but the guy still remained silent.

"She's a Demi-God, Half God and a Daughter of Bellona. Bellona is kinda a big deal when it comes to Rome. She's Mars' counterpart and given how he's nearly on Jupiter's level of worship, her connection is strong. Those with strong blood are the ones who end up leading Rome; Praetors, Centurions, Champions and Heroes are nearly always Demi-Gods of the Big Three or Rome's Patrons."

"I take it your on the other end of the Spectrum then?"

It wasn't really a question but he felt compelled to reassure his friend.

"Yep. Legacy, so my connection is already a bit strained. Not to mention I'm a descendant of Pales."

"Explains a lot."

"It does?" Alec said. General curiosity laced his voice sweetly.

"God of Shepherds, founded on the Campaign trail. Right?"

Alec felt his own face go slack for a moment. Even Reyna had not believed him originally, despite the papers he had shown her when he first arrived. So far was it that Lupa, despite her numerous 'cubs' , had been able to remember his Father.

"How'd you know?"

Ardal rolled his shoulders back in a calm shrug. "I've had a lot of time to read." He added and the ominous tone was not lost on Alec.

Perhaps he is a Legacy of the Sea seeing how so much lies beneath the surface. Such were Alec's thoughts.

"Your father served, I'm guessing."

"He did. Was part of the Michael Varus expedition." Alex spat bitterly towards the heavens in defiance of a crackling of lighting dancing in the clouds,Eligible for retirement, but his Loyalty to Rome took him on one final expedition."

"Michael Varus Expedition?"

"Dakota didn't mention it? Strange. There was this Prophecy called 'The Prophecy of Seven'. Long story short, it wasn't about him."

"Ah a Prophecy of the Gods I take it?"

"'Prophecy of the Gods'?"

"A Prophecy cooked by Gods and given to those they want to carry out their will. The worst type of Prophecy if you ask me."

"There's others?"

"Of course. The Gods may be able to influence the future, but that doesn't mean they're the only ones who can make sense of it." Ardal added with a wink and immediately the bright red flags in his head fluttered in the non-existent wind inside his consciousness.

"You don't strike me as Apollo material."

The smirk which threatened to spill over with mirth was all he received as he watched Ardal stalk over to the nearest tree along the path, of which there were few. He watched the form of his friend bend down and collect into his hands all manner of small sticks and twigs of various lengths and thickness. Gathered in a bundle and with meticulous skill he swiftly broke them all to a uniform length of no more than a few inches long at the most. Grasping in one hand he instead turned his attention towards the large tree, giving it a swift kick at the base, sending force all the way up through its truck and to the very edges of its furthest branches, touching the lush green leaves that hung on the fringes. Like the pom-poms of a cheerleader or a soaked dog's head, the afro of leaves rumbled and rustled against itself and from it's depth emerged a number of different sized birds which took off in a scattered panic towards the far reaches of the world, seemingly. Curiously, Ardal seemed transfixed on the birds, observing them with all the patience of a skill hunter, but no malice or threat laid in his eyes. He was simply watching the paths they instinctively took to the heaven's with, seeking the invisible lines they left in the sky, like the less visible vapor trails of soaring aircraft cruising the heavens like shooting stars.

Satisfied with the behavior of the birds, as far as Alec could guess, his friend turned his attention to the small collection of sticks he had gathered and cut in his hands. Some were straight and rigid whilst others had strange curves and knots littering their length, the only uniform thing about them being their length, despite the fact they had been gathered from the same tree. In of itself it was a unique marvel at how different the outcome of growth had been so far from the common origin that they shared at some point many years ago now. On the outside each was a dull grey color, not unlike the remaining few clouds which hung around in the heavens past the fall of the Sun and the ascension of the Moon onto the stage of the skies. Yet on the instead a bright green, like mowed grass in the summer sun, flesh was easily visible and immediately he recognized the tree. He didn't know why, he was never much of a Gardner, but he had learned his fair share on the campaign trail. Yet, something instinctively told him it was the fingers of an Oak Tree resting in his friend's hand. Again the nagging grew louder to the point it was like a small rainstorm had developed within his mind. Everything about what was going on was. He could feel it in every nerve of his body, but the man before him was his friend, he owed him the benefit of the doubt.

Confusion reigned over his mind evermore when we watched in detached fascination as the bundle of sticks was propelled up into the skies, only to fall down like a small downpour of shoddy arrows upon the group. Some lay on their sides, others up right perfectly; something he thought should be impossible with just broken sticks, and others at odd or random angles. For a while Ardal simply sat there studying them, watching their moon shadows ever so slightly drift against the grey washed grass softly swaying in the wind beneath his feet. Occasionally he'd glance back up into the sky and then return to his observation of the modern artwork he had created out of the sticks.

Sometime following he rose back to his feet once more with a satisfied grunt and whipped around to face Alec. His face caught him by surprise. In all the time he had known him, Ardal's features were sharp, commanding and with a strange age to them that betrayed the fact he was only eighteen. His eyes were either expressionless orbs of glass, or burning fires of passions which had no end. Occasionally they held mirth or snark. His thin lips always curled up into a subtle smile even when he didn't seem the happiest, which was rare for the upbeat teen. However, now Alec felt caught off guard. Ardal's features had gone slack and were more round. The sharp peaks of his cheekbones whittled down and his thin lips retreated back into a half crooked wry smile that threatened to have them disappear along with the remainder of his features. It was like staring at the side of a barren cliff, devoid of anything but a stony exterior and much like a rigid structure of earth standing since time immemorial so did his friend seem to age, as if many many more years than he should have had were suddenly catching up with him. On the edges of his eyes hung the faintest drops of water slowly forming like a morning dew gathering on the leaves of grass in anticipation of the rising sun.

He knew this face, though the last he saw it he was too young to understand it. That far away, overly aged look was the same his father made whenever he would stare at the old pictures of teens in eerily familiar armor to his own. Ardal now turned, seemingly possessed to speak and the way his body tenses and shifted, somewhere in the recess of his mind, reminded him of the Sages he had read about in an old fairy tale. Ironic he would have thought given his present life, but that be damned, he was too curious what was about to be said.

He who conquers the wall shall save his people and be faced with a choice.

Only two options will he be given; Fall as a Martyr or Rise as a Hero