In the time between the most recent chapter and this one, I passed my six-year anniversary of being on FFN. Man, I feel old now. To celebrate, I started another story, which is a Pokémon x Bad Guys crossover called "Harley Danger". I'll still be writing this one, don't worry.
I elected to post this chapter a day early, but I do so with the understanding that I will likely not be able to keep up a 4-day schedule. There will be at least one chapter a week, though; I'm pretty confident in that. Enjoy.
BRANDON'S POV
The rest of the morning was very stressful, as you can probably imagine. Swordplay was not only difficult for me, but it was also humiliating.
Many of my cohort-mates were younger than me, and yet they were all no doubt better with a sword than I was. And, if Dakota was to be believed, each of them had picked these skills up more quickly than I had.
It was all getting very annoying, and the armor didn't help. With each swing of the blade, I felt more breath leave my body, and the weapon itself seemed to get heavier in my hands. I couldn't keep this up much longer; eventually I would completely and totally embarrass myself.
"Uncle!" I finally exclaimed, once I'd had enough.
Frank frowned. "Uncle?"
"It means that you should stop attacking me. Isn't that a pretty universal expression?"
"Well, yes, I suppose," my instructor replied, though he was struggling to be heard over the chorus of chuckles from the Fifth Cohort. "But that doesn't mean it will be respected. Definitely not during the war games, and absolutely not when you're in a fight to the death. You've got to increase your stamina somehow."
"It would help…if I didn't…have to wear this armor" I panted.
"Well, you do. And I can promise you this: The hardships you'll endure at Camp Jupiter are nothing compared to what will happen if you must take on a quest."
I heard Lindsay laughing louder than the others; at least, that's how it sounded.
"Now, I'll be frank with you, no pun intended" Frank replied. "If you can't get better at these essential attributes, the chances of you ever being assigned a quest are slim to none. Even if the Earth Mother will take some time to stir, there are still many monsters left."
"Earth Mother?" I asked.
Frank shook his head. "I hope that I didn't bring up bad memories for the rest of you guys. The Second Giant War is often a sore subject; we lost too many legionnaires."
"You guys keep mentioning the giants" I replied. "What's going on here?"
My instructor gestured to my cohort-mates to leave the area. "I'll explain to Brandon what happened last year, so that he has a better idea of it."
Okay. So what's the deal?
The other members of the Fifth Cohort all walked away, though a few kept their gaze fixed on me a bit longer than they needed to, as though I were a specimen they couldn't wait to dissect.
Frank and I sat down on the steps of the miniature Colosseum, where he sighed.
"Last year", he began explaining, "I was part of the quest to defeat Gaea and the giants."
My eyes widened. "You were one of the seven!"
"Yep. I was" the other boy said blankly, in a tone that suggested he wasn't too proud of it. "We sailed on this ship called the Argo II over the Atlantic to Greece."
"Greece, huh? I've always wanted to go to Greece, though maybe not right now."
Frank gave me a sad smile. "I mean, aside from the financial problems, it's a great place. But it wasn't a great place for us. We had to fight the giants atop the Acropolis."
Suddenly I pictured Frank, along with several other people about his age, wielding swords as they stood against various enormous beasts. And, although I'd never been to Greece, I pictured a ton of ruins as a stand-in for the Acropolis.
"So what happened to the other demigods on the quest?" I asked. "If that's not too personal, that is."
"It's fine," Frank replied. "One of them was Hazel Levesque; she's also a centurion here, and she's now my girlfriend too. I'm not sure if you've met her yet."
"I haven't."
"Anyway, then you have Jason Grace and Piper McLean. Jason used to be a praetor here, but now he's over at the other camp with Piper. At least, they were there; I believe they moved back to California after that quest."
"The other camp? You mean the Greek camp?"
Frank grimaced. "Yes."
"So what about the rest?"
"Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase are still in New York City. They're both studying to get into New Rome University. That'll probably be easier for Annabeth, since she's a daughter of Athena, Greek goddess of wisdom. And they're head over heels with one another."
There that name was again. Percy Jackson, not unlike the name Upchuck Weldworth had dropped at his symposium. That seemed so long ago now.
I counted on my fingers, realizing that Frank had only mentioned six demigods, including himself. "And then the last one?"
Frank looked away from me, and I realized that I must have made a mistake. It was clearly hard for him to talk about this, which left me to wonder if something had happened to the last demigod.
The black-haired boy appeared as though he were about to cry. And it was a rather jarring sight, this big, hulking guy on the verge of tears. But then, they say even the strongest men can't hide their true feelings forever.
"His name was Leo Valdez," Frank responded eventually, sniffling. "And there's a reason I say 'was.'"
"He's dead" I asserted.
"No. Well, we don't know for sure. Jason said that he had faith Leo was out there somewhere, but there's no reason to believe that. As far as we know, Leo Valdez's soul is in the Underworld, where it will remain unless he elects to be reborn."
I raised my eyebrows. "There's an Underworld? That's real too?"
"Why, yes it is" Frank said, as though this were common knowledge. "It's where the souls of the dead rest. How much do you know about it?"
"Admittedly, not very much. I just know that it exists in Greek and Roman mythology."
Frank gripped his right flank as though he'd just been punched in the kidney. He glanced at me, looking rather pained once more.
"Can we not talk about the Greeks anymore?" he replied. "I mean, I did bring them up, but it's just a touchy subject to talk about."
"Fine," I told him. Then I realized that perhaps I shouldn't be so curt, remembering everything about how there'd apparently been a war between the two sides of demigods.
When Frank didn't respond, I decided to take the initiative. "So how much do you know about me?" I asked.
"Well, the whole camp knows what you've been accused of. We took you in because we thought you were worthy, even as a charity case."
I wrinkled my nose. "Who are you calling a charity case?"
"Not you. Anyway, we're not supposed to surf the Internet here, since that attracts monsters. Even with the magic boundaries, we'd rather not have hordes of enemies just outside Camp Jupiter's borders."
"And that's relevant because…".
"Because now you know why we don't have updates on your case. Although we do receive the newspaper; you could check that when it's time for lunch."
I shuddered. Growing up, I'd always thought it would be cool to be in the news for any reason, or even to be famous. However, there were obviously things one didn't want to be famous for, and being accused of murdering your foster parents is one of those things.
In that regard, it was better to remain anonymous.
"I'm sure there will be plenty of other stories in the paper" I told Frank, more to reassure myself than to convince him. "There are lots of murders in Los Angeles."
"Perhaps" Frank replied. "But there aren't a lot of people who would murder those who provided them a home the way your foster parents did. And by the way", he continued, seeing my eyes glint, "I'm not saying you did it. I don't believe you did. You couldn't have."
Why does he think I couldn't have? Because I'm so weak with a sword?
"Anyway", the other boy announced, "we can do some more practice. I know you're exhausted, but like I said, stamina is key to success. If you can't stay on your feet now, how will you do it when your life's on the line?"
Wouldn't adrenaline kick in then?
We practiced for another hour or two. At first, I believed that I would improve the more time I got with the sword; that is, after all, the way it usually works. But it turned out to be more beginner's luck than anything else.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't summon the energy to lunge forward and repel Frank's attacks. My armor kept deteriorating, to the point where it'd be useless in a real fight, but it still added extra weight. And I knew I was getting worse, not better.
When we'd finally finished up, and I was hanging up my battered suit of armor, I turned to Frank.
"Be honest with me", I said. "Do you think my swordplay skills are worthy of a legionnaire?"
Frank was evidently at least trying to make me feel better as he responded.
"Let's be real: At first, I was pathetic at just about everything. But if you stay on this trajectory, I don't think you have what it takes."
The rest of the day felt like one humiliation after another.
As the war games approached, I found myself dreading them more and more. I had no idea what they would entail, which only made me more afraid of what would end up happening.
Not only am I going to embarrass myself in front of the Fifth Cohort once more, but the entire legion will see me screw up, and injury will be added to insult. So that's great.
By the time dinner rolled around, I didn't exactly feel like eating. My stomach was tied into knots, and my very heart felt like it was made of lead. Despite this, it still managed to thump at a blistering pace, so loudly I could hear it.
I forced myself to take small bites out of my panini, but I wasn't hungry. It tasted like cardboard; or at least, how I imagined cardboard to taste.
Just when I thought I couldn't get any more anxious, Dakota handed me a white scroll with lots of tiny words on it. It felt heavy in my hands.
"Here's a story you might be interested in," the centurion told me. "Of course, it might also be hard for you to read."
"I don't think I have dyslexia, dude" I replied.
"Hmmm" Dakota said. "That would make you something of an outlier among demigods; many of them have dyslexia, simply because their brains are hardwired for Latin or Ancient Greek. But that hardly matters right now. Take a look."
I opened the newspaper to the page Dakota specified. It wasn't front-page news, but it was still easy enough to spot.
As soon as I saw the title, I knew that I probably would have fainted if I hadn't been sitting down.
It read: Teen Accused Of Murdering Parents Still At Large, Suspected To Be In Bay Area.
"You've gotta be kidding me" I muttered, feeling my head spin. "They've already found me?"
"Not yet," Dakota replied. "Remember that you're safe here, even with our borders potentially weakening. Although it's going to be harder for you to live your life outside of New Rome. Anyway, read the whole thing."
"I'm not sure I want to."
But I did keep reading.
Brandon St. Lawrence, 18, remains at large after the July 11 murder of his foster parents, Rodney and Michelle Stark of Los Angeles. The Los Angeles Police Department, as well as several other police departments, remain committed to his apprehension and arrest.
"We're doing the best we can," Officer Jenny Lake, 37, told the Los Angeles Times. "When you have a fugitive who seems capable of eluding the authorities for this long, 'the best we can' doesn't always cut it. But it will eventually."
However, the manhunt for Mr. St. Lawrence has not been entirely unsuccessful.
Mrs. Lake told the Times: "While we have yet to spot the young man, we have been able to ascertain that he is likely in the Bay Area. He was last seen running off a highway in the Oakland Hills, and then he seems to have vanished. This makes him hard to find. But not impossible."
As a result, the various police departments in the San Francisco Bay region have all been notified of this new information. Given that the suspect is likely armed and dangerous, civilians are advised to approach him under no circumstances whatsoever.
"He's a public menace, so far as we're concerned," Mrs. Lake said. "I shudder to think about other crimes he might have committed, that he might be committing right now. The sooner he is brought to justice, the better."
The Times conducted a brief interview with Mrs. Lake, during which she was asked what the general public could do to assist with the effort to bring Mr. St. Lawrence to justice. Her response is directly quoted below.
"Well, the first thing to know is that you must stay home as much as possible, and lock your doors at night. If he was willing to kill his own parents in cold blood, who knows what other lives he's willing to end?
"That being said, if a civilian wants to make themselves helpful, then any information leading to his arrest will be rewarded handsomely. We have to put this man behind bars."
"Wow" I whispered, but not in an awed manner. Instead, I was bloody terrified.
"Yes," Dakota replied. "I hope I didn't make you upset."
"Well, what did you think was going to happen if you showed me that? Did you think I'd be thrilled that there's a huge manhunt for me?"
"Well, no," the centurion admitted, frowning. "But wouldn't you rather know the full truth and not some sanitized version of it?"
I couldn't argue with him there. As painful as it was to know the truth, at least I knew the truth.
"You can't leave the camp under any circumstances, Brandon" Dakota told me sternly. "You just can't. Because mortals can be more horrible than monsters sometimes."
"Okay then" I replied simply. "Let's just hope that I never have to leave this place. I just hope the camp's boundary stays intact."
For the rest of the meal, I focused solely on my food. Each bite got harder and harder to choke down, and I started to feel certain that I'd vomit if I tried to eat any more. That wouldn't exactly endear me to my cohort-mates.
"How did the session go with Frank, by the way?" Dakota blurted out eventually. "Does he think you'll be a good swordsman?"
Since Dakota had told me an inconvenient truth, I figured that I might as well be honest with him too, no matter how painful it might be to do so.
"No. At least, he said that I needed to drastically change things if I wanted to be successful. But I'm not optimistic about that."
The centurion grimaced. "That hurts, Brandon. That really hurts."
"Oh?"
"Well, for starters, I wish you could display a bit more confidence in yourself, as well as confidence in the rest of us. We really are trying to help you."
I sighed. "I know, Dakota. I know."
"Perhaps you'll be best with defense tonight" he told me. "I just hope that the Fifth Cohort is assigned to defend the banner."
"Defend the banner? You mean, like in capture the flag?"
"In essence, yes" Dakota responded. "But there's only one flag, and one side attacks while the other defends. Usually two cohorts defend and three have to attack."
"So you're telling me I'm useless, so it's better to have my dead weight on defense?"
"That's not what I said at all."
When everyone was finished with their meal, Reyna blew a whistle. As the sole praetor, she got the best seat in the dining hall: A wooden throne with red cushions, much bigger than was needed to support her.
"Good evening, everybody. As you all are no doubt aware, we are holding war games tonight. A fortress has been constructed on the Field of Mars to guard the banner. Tonight, the even-numbered cohorts - that is, the Second and Fourth - will defend, while the First, Third, and Fifth Cohorts will attack."
I'm dead meat. At least, I'm dead weight; if my team manages to win, it'll be in spite of me, not because of me.
After returning to our barracks to get dressed in the traditional Roman warrior's outfit (including the heavy armor that made it seemingly impossible to move quickly), Dakota led the rest of the Fifth Cohort, myself included, to the Field of Mars.
My mouth hung open as soon as I saw the fortress. It seemed absolutely impossible that it could have been built on such short notice; then again, not much should have surprised me anymore.
The fortress was four stories tall, the size of an upper-class suburban home. It could have fit my own within it eight times over.
"So this is our practice?" I asked. "You're telling me that we're going to storm that thing?"
Lindsay nodded. "How else are you going to learn how to fight? You've just got to do it."
"I know, I know…" I trailed off, not knowing how to save face.
One of the other legionnaires shot me a glance, which clearly said, Drop it.
"Well, doing a full frontal assault may not be wise" another legionnaire said. "That is what they will likely expect."
"You're right" Dakota responded. "We're going to split up; the exact details of how we'll split up are to be determined. All I know right now is, we should stay quiet until we're able to prepare on our own."
"Listen up, everybody!" Reyna yelled. "Each cohort will have ten minutes to strategize before entering the fortress! Once that time has elapsed, the Second and Fourth Cohorts will enter the fortress and take their positions, and five minutes later, the war games will begin!"
Fifteen minutes. Twenty minutes from now, I could be flat-out dead, at least to the rest of the legion.
"Why are the cohorts planning individually?" I asked nobody in particular.
"Well", Lindsay said in a tone reeking of fake annoyance, "although the odd-numbered cohorts are all a team, the cohort that retrieves the banner, if that does happen, gets the glory. Ever since last year, the Fifth Cohort hasn't won a battle; that had better change tonight."
"And if someone gets hurt?"
Dakota shook his head. "Don't think about that. We'll cross this bridge when we come to it, but right now, just try to avoid getting hurt."
"We're wasting time here!" a male cohort-mate exclaimed. "We should be assigning positions right now."
"Shut up, Wardog" Lindsay told the boy, who had rather thin hair and a rather Hispanic-looking complexion. "We have to assuage Brandon's worries first."
"We will all help, any way we can" Dakota said authoritatively. "We'll make sure we win."
"Okay" Lindsay muttered loudly. "But what is the plan? We can't just go in there willy-nilly."
"We're not going to" I promised. "I guess I'll try and create a diversion."
For some reason, that sounded like a great idea to me. As though it were what I was supposed to do, my sole purpose on this Earth.
The boy identified as "Wardog" gasped. He stared at me as though I were from another planet.
"You can't be serious, Brandon. No offense, but that sounds like suicide. You just don't know how to fight; you should hang back."
I didn't have much time to be offended by that, for I soon found another source of embarrassment.
I'm not sure how I hadn't noticed this before, but everyone except me was carrying a shield with them. They came in a variety of colors and design patterns, but each of them would be capable of stopping a decent sword attack. Except, of course, for my lack of one.
When Reyna saw me, she gave me a dirty look. "Brandon, didn't you get a shield from the forge?"
"There's a forge here?" I replied quizzically.
Reyna nodded. "That's where all the shields and swords are made. But if you don't have one, it's going to be rough."
"I can just spectate" I offered; in all honesty, that would have been a huge relief. I wouldn't need to make a fool out of myself any more than I already had.
But the praetor shook her head. "No, you have to fight" she responded. "And I'm not going to give you a shield either; you'll need to suffer the consequences of coming unprepared."
Great. I guess that'll make me an easy target, won't it?
"Don't worry too much, Brandon. Legionnaires rarely die during war games, except for that one time last year…but we don't talk about it too much."
"No surprise" I muttered. "You never talk about your losses."
"It wasn't really a loss" Lindsay said caustically.
"Whatever" Reyna replied, glaring at Lindsay. "All of you in the Fifth Cohort should use your last few minutes of preparation wisely. Otherwise, with all due respect, you're never going to win."
On that note, Reyna started walking over to the next assembled group of legionnaires. In my mind, though, I could picture the seconds ticking away, knowing that I had very little time left to prepare.
"Okay…" Wardog said. "So I guess I'll charge straight in to keep them occupied. Brandon, you and a few other cohortmates will go in and get the banner."
"There are a lot of us, though" Dakota replied. "I don't want anyone here to feel useless."
"Making people feel useful is less important than winning" Lindsay shot out. "We've just got to win, no matter how it happens."
There were so many things I could have said, such as pointing out that we could really use as many people as possible on offense, so that we would overwhelm their defenses. It would be wise to have people in as many places as we could.
More importantly, however, I felt this strange certainty. Perhaps "certainty" is the wrong word here, but I knew somehow that I was more powerful than I'd expected.
If I could somehow make our opponents see events differently, that would work to our advantage. It was a radical notion, but somehow it made perfect sense.
Zeus: Is it fair to say that this moment, right before beginning the war games, was the moment you knew about your godly parentage?
Defendant: I wouldn't say I knew, my lord. Indeed, I didn't even think it meant anything.
Zeus: Please explain how you felt upon this "epiphany", for lack of a better word.
Defendant: Well, I didn't think there was anything supernatural about it. I didn't believe it related to Greco-Roman myth…I mean, traditions. It just seemed like common sense.
Zeus: Common sense, noted. Well, I would object to using the word "tradition", because that would imply that our ways are outdated. Again, Brandon St. Lawrence, would you like to be referred to that way?
(The defendant did not respond.)
Zeus: Please answer me, Mr. St. Lawrence!
Defendant: I suppose not. Can we please move on, though? If you want the truth from me, you'll get the truth, but I'd love it if you let me explain everything before you cross-examine me or whatever.
Zeus: Fair enough. Continue.
After what seemed like far too little time, Reyna blew her whistle again and announced that it was time for the even-numbered cohorts to enter the fortress. The rest of us were forbidden to talk to one another, because "it wouldn't be fair when they can't strategize."
I didn't argue with Reyna's reasoning; I was in no position to. But I'd be lying if I said that this didn't frighten me more. Here I was, flying blind into yet another battle.
My Imperial gold sword was already damp with perspiration from my palm, and my grip was loosening. It didn't help that the armor made me feel like I'd gained fifty pounds.
Suddenly, the fortress' walls started spewing out streams of water. It was a rather disarming sight.
"What's that?" I blurted out.
"We're not supposed to talk right now!" Lindsay exclaimed, using a higher volume to shush me than the voice she was trying to stop.
I saw Reyna, a safe distance away from the battle, stare daggers at me. She did not, however, say anything.
Dakota sighed, speaking in a whisper. "I think this talk is okay to have, since it's not really about strategy. Basically, the fortress is always lined with water cannons to make things more difficult for the invaders. One legionnaire was able to turn these cannons against the defenders, but I'm not sure if you're a son of Neptune."
"Neptune? Is that the sea god?"
The centurion nodded. "No offense, but I think that if Neptune were your godly parent, you wouldn't have made it to eighteen without finding Camp Jupiter or being killed. More importantly, without Percy Jackson, we have to just deal with the cannons."
"We can do it" Wardog insisted. "Ancient Roman warriors had to contend with far worse. This is nothing by comparison."
I knew he was right, but that didn't help me very much emotionally.
"I do wish we had Hazel on our side this time" Dakota admitted. "She can create tunnels, which really helped them win the games last year. That's the only time in recent memory that the Fifth has been successful."
"Hazel's not in the Fifth Cohort anymore?"
"She isn't" Lindsay confirmed. "She's in the Second, and Frank is in the Fourth. They're both against us."
"Oh" I muttered. "For some reason, I assumed that's where she was."
"You can move up in the ranks if you accumulate enough honor" Dakota said. "But that's not easy."
"I wouldn't think so."
"Anyway", Wardog interjected, "we had better get ready. The war games will be starting at any moment-".
Reyna blew her whistle one more time, and then all was chaos.
