Some more dreaming- not the most exciting chapter.
Replies:
Undeath9087: Everyone else would be looking at her like she's crazy, other than Jason who would be much quieter about it all.
Guest: You're not wrong lol. Percy might have to ask her for some advice. But to be fair Reyna's probably got a lot of trauma she wanted to block out too.

In a kinder world Reyna's dream would have ended there. But it didn't.

To Octavian's right, reports and maps were strewn across a low table. To his left, a marble altar was heaped with fruit and gold offerings, no doubt for the gods. But to Reyna it looked like an altar to Octavian himself.

At his side, the legion's eagle bearer, Jacob, stood at attention, sweating in his lion-skin cloak as he held the staff with the golden eagle standard of the Twelfth.

Octavian was in the midst of an audience. At the base of the stairs knelt a boy in jeans and a rumpled hoodie. Octavian's fellow centurion of the First Cohort, Mike Kahale, stood to one side with his arms crossed, glowering with obvious displeasure.

"Well, now." Octavian scanned a piece of parchment. "I see here you are a legacy, a descendant of Orcus."

The boy in the hoodie looked up, and Reyna caught her breath. Bryce Lawrence. She recognized his mop of brown hair, his broken nose, his cruel green eyes and smug, twisted smile.

"Yes, my lord," Bryce said.

"Oh, I'm not a lord." Octavian's eyes crinkled. "Just a centurion, an augur and a humble priest doing his best to serve the gods. I understand you were dismissed from the legion for … ah, disciplinary problems."

Reyna tried to shout, but she couldn't make a sound. Octavian knew perfectly well why Bryce had been kicked out. Much like his godly forefather, Orcus, the underworld god of punishment, Bryce was completely remorseless. The little psychopath had survived his trials with Lupa just fine, but as soon as he arrived at Camp Jupiter he had proved to be untrainable. He had tried to set a cat on fire for fun. He had stabbed a horse and sent it stampeding through the Forum.

He was even suspected of sabotaging a siege engine and getting his own centurion killed during the war games.

If Reyna had been able to prove it, Bryce's punishment would've been death. But because the evidence was circumstantial, and because Bryce's family was rich and powerful with lots of influence in New Rome, he'd got away with the lighter sentence of banishment.

"Yes, Pontifex," Bryce said slowly. "But, if I may, those charges were unproven. I am a loyal Roman."

Mike Kahale looked like he was doing his best not to throw up.

Octavian smiled. "I believe in second chances. You've responded to my call for recruits. You have the proper credentials and letters of recommendation. Do you pledge to follow my orders and serve the legion?"

"Absolutely." said Bryce.

"Then you are reinstated in probatio," Octavian said, "until you have proven yourself in combat."

He gestured at Mike, who reached in his pouch and fished out a lead probatio tablet on a leather cord. He hung the cord around Bryce's neck.

"Report to the Fifth Cohort," Octavian said. "They could use some new blood, some fresh perspective. If your centurion Dakota has any problem with that, tell him to talk to me."

Bryce smiled like he'd just been handed a sharp knife. "My pleasure."

"And, Bryce." Octavian's face looked almost ghoulish under his white mantle – his eyes too piercing, his cheeks too gaunt, his lips too thin and colourless. "However much money, power and prestige the Lawrence family carries in the legion, remember that my family carries more. I am personally sponsoring you, as I am sponsoring all the other new recruits. Follow my orders, and you'll advance quickly. Soon I may have a little job for you – a chance to prove your worth. But cross me and I will not be as lenient as Reyna. Do you understand?"
Bryce's smile faded. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he changed his mind. He nodded.

"Good," Octavian said. "Also, get a haircut. You look like one of those Graecus scum. Dismissed."

After Bryce left, Mike Kahale shook his head. "That makes two dozen now."

"It's good news, my friend," Octavian assured him. "We need the extra manpower."

"Murderers. Thieves. Traitors."

"Loyal demigods," Octavian said, "who owe their position to me."

Mike scowled. Until Reyna had met him, she'd never understood why people called biceps guns, but Mike's arms were as thick as bazooka barrels. He had broad features, a toasted-almond complexion, onyx hair and proud dark eyes, like the old Hawaiian kings. She wasn't sure how a high-school linebacker from Hilo had wound up with Venus for a mom, but no one in the legion gave him any grief about that – not once they saw him crush rocks with his bare hands.

Reyna had always liked Mike Kahale. Unfortunately, Mike was very loyal to his sponsor. And his sponsor was Octavian.

The self-appointed pontifex rose and stretched. "Don't worry, old friend. Our siege teams have the Greek camp surrounded. Our eagles have complete air superiority. The Greeks aren't going anywhere until we're ready to strike. In eleven days, all my forces will be in place. My little surprises will be prepared. On August first, the Feast of Spes, the Greek camp will fall."

"But Reyna said –"

"We've been through this." Octavian slid his iron dagger from his belt and threw it at the table, where it impaled a map of Camp Half-Blood. "Reyna has forfeited her position. She went to the ancient lands, which is against the law."

"But the Earth Mother –"

"– has been stirring because of the war between the Greek and Roman camps, yes? The gods are incapacitated, yes? And how do we solve that problem, Mike? We eliminate the division. We wipe out the Greeks. We return the gods to their proper manifestation as Roman. Once the gods are restored to their full power, Gaia will not dare rise. She will sink back into her slumber. We demigods will be strong and unified, as we were in the old days of the empire. Besides, the first day of August is most auspicious – the month named after my ancestor Augustus. And you know how he united the Romans?"

"He seized power and became emperor," Mike rumbled.

Octavian waved aside the comment. "Nonsense. He saved Rome by becoming First Citizen. He wanted peace and prosperity, not power! Believe me, Mike, I intend to follow his example. I will save New Rome and, when I do, I will remember my friends."

Mike shifted his considerable bulk. "You sound certain. Has your gift of prophecy-"

Octavian held up his hand in warning. He glanced at Jacob the eagle bearer, who was still standing at attention behind him. "Jacob, you're dismissed. Why don't you go polish the eagle or something?"

Jacob's shoulders slumped in relief. "Yes, Augur. I mean Centurion! I mean Pontifex! I mean –"

"Go."

"I'll go."

Once Jacob had hobbled off, Octavian's face clouded. "Mike, I told you not to speak of my, ah, problem. But to answer your question: no, there still seems to be some interference with Apollo's usual gift to me." He glanced resentfully at a pile of mutilated stuffed animals heaped in the corner of the porch. "I can't see the future. Perhaps that false Oracle or the Dare girl are working some sort of witchcraft. But as I've told you before, in strictest confidence, Apollo spoke to me clearly last year at Camp Jupiter! He personally blessed my endeavours. He promised I would be remembered as the saviour of the Romans."

Octavian spread his arms, revealing his harp tattoo, the symbol of his godly forefather. Seven slash marks indicated his years of service – more than any presiding officer, including Reyna.

"Never fear, Mike. We will crush the Greeks. We will stop Gaia and her minions. Then we'll take that harpy the Greeks have been harbouring – the one who memorized our Sibylline Books – and we'll force her to give us the knowledge of our ancestors. Once that happens, I'm sure Apollo will restore my gift of prophecy. Camp Jupiter will be more powerful than ever. We will rule the future."

Mike's scowl didn't lessen, but he raised his fist in salute. "You're the boss."

"Yes, I am." Octavian pulled his dagger from the table. "Now, go check on those two dwarfs you captured. I want them properly terrified before I interrogate them again and dispatch them to Tartarus."

The dream faded- and Reyna's eyes fluttered open when she heard Calypso's voice, "Reyna. Reyna you must wake."

"What?" Reyna shook her head to clear her sleepy daze, What is it?"

"Tourists." that came from Hedge, and Reyna turned her head to look over at him- he was sat with Bianca, who he'd moved closer to the statue.

And Reyna looked around- there were hordes of them.

In groups of twenty or thirty, tourists swarmed through the ruins, milling around the villas, wandering the cobblestone paths, gawking at the colourful frescoes and mosaics.

Reyna worried how the tourists would react to a forty-foot-tall statue of Athena in the middle of the courtyard, but the Mist must have been working overtime to obscure the mortals' vision.

Each time a group approached, they'd stop at the edge of the courtyard and stare in disappointment at the statue. One British tour guide announced, "Ah, scaffolding. It appears this area is undergoing restoration. Pity. Let's move along."

And off they went.

At least the statue didn't rumble, "DIE, UNBELIEVERS!" and zap the mortals to dust. Reyna had once dealt with a statue of the goddess Diana like that. It hadn't been her most relaxing day.

She recalled what Annabeth had told her about the Athena Parthenos: its magical aura both attracted monsters and kept them at bay. Sure enough, every so often, out of the corner of her eye, Reyna would spot glowing white spirits in Roman clothes flitting among the ruins, frowning at the statue in consternation.

"Those lemures are everywhere," Gleeson muttered. "Keeping their distance for now – but come nightfall we'd better be ready to move. Ghosts are always worse at night."

Reyna didn't need to be reminded of that.
She watched as an elderly couple in matching pastel shirts and Bermuda shorts tottered through a nearby garden. She was glad they didn't come any closer. Around the camp, Coach Hedge had rigged all sorts of trip wires, snares and oversized mousetraps that wouldn't stop any self-respecting monster, but they might very well bring down a senior citizen.

Despite the warm morning, Reyna shivered from her dreams. She couldn't decide which was more terrifying – the impending destruction of New Rome, or the way Octavian was poisoning the legion from the inside.

Your quest is a fool's errand.

Camp Jupiter needed her. The Twelfth Legion needed her. Yet Reyna was halfway across the world, watching a satyr toast blueberry waffles on a stick over an open fire.

She wanted to talk about her nightmares, but she decided to wait until Bianca woke up. She wasn't sure she'd have the courage to describe them twice.

"Here." Hedge offered her a plate of flame-grilled waffles with fresh sliced kiwi and pineapple. It all looked surprisingly good and Reyna noticed that Calypso was eating some too.

"I don't understand where you're getting all these supplies." Reyna marvelled.

"Hey, I'm a Satyr. We're very efficient packers." he took a bite of waffle. "We also know how to live off the land."

"And I'm used to living off of the land too- my island had plenty of fruits and vegetables but I didn't exactly have a store like you seem too."

"And it's not as good as your boys belt." Hedge nodded to Calypso, "But come on tough girl. Eat up- and don't worry I've made enough for Bianca too when she wakes up."

"I'm making a supply of something to help her with the Shadow travel. I'm not sure if I have enough ingredients to get us all the back back to camp though."

"Do what you can." Reyna said quietly, "I- I don't like having to force her to keep going when she's so exhausted but-"

"But we have no choice." Hedge followed her gaze, "She's a tough kid like her brother. She'll be fine."