Daisy Tale was ecstatic. She practically skipped along the stone paths that ran along the fountain parks. She blurred passed several pedestrians who gave her no special notice. Many of them knew Daisy and this was not unusual behavior for her. Even so, she seemed especially chipper this morning. Only she knew that she had gotten a date with a very special someone. Well, almost got the date. All she needed was permission from her sculpting teacher Mr. Dale to have the afternoon off. He would almost certainly say yes to one of his star pupils, even if she was rather eccentric. Daisy moved like the wind and felt like flying. As a second generation demigod, she had grown up in New Rome until she was old enough to join the legion. After serving her minimum service she had graduated and pursued an art degree at the University.

Many people would call her a flirt but she didn't care. Life was a marvelous thing that should be enjoyed despite all the dangers. It was too bad others seemed to miss out on that, so focused on disaster. But in the end they had their choices and she had her's. If she wanted to flirt with and date all the boys it was nobody else's business. The demigod had arrived at the correct district. Mr. Dale lived in one of the complexes in this row. Although, if he wasn't in his apartment he would probably be in one of the workshops at the end of the block.

After checking both his apartment and his neighbor's, Daisy made her way down the street too where a lot of the art majors got to work on projects. The workshop was beautiful and decorated with many of the masterpieces it had produced over the years. Right now it would be mostly empty. There was, after all, class going on as well as a census to make sure all were accounted for after the attack on New Rome. No noise came from inside the large structure so Daisy went ahead and tried to open the door, half expecting it to be locked. To her surprise, it pushed open with ease. None of the lights were on and when she tried the switch nothing happened. Maybe he wasn't here after all, but where else would he be? Maybe he fell asleep while working. It wouldn't be the first time that had happened.

Deciding to try her luck, she pressed on through the many halls with connecting rooms to the ovens and sculpting tables. She remembered being in here at the height of production. The temperature could get unbearable but there was nothing quite as exhilarating as watching so much creativity in one place. Finally she arrived at the stone working room, where Mr. Dale would spend most of his time. The door was already open and there was a small light shining. She poked her head through to look around and instantly absorbed something wrong. The chairs were knocked over and the table was flipped on its side. Several pots of oil were spilled and scatter tools glimmered in the faint light of a singly oil lamp. None of these things are what caught Daisy's attention. What drew her eyes filled her with horror and stole the air from her lungs like frostbite. Mr. Dale lay slumped against a wall with a chisel driven right between his eyes.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

The large corridors of the courthouse were quiet, save for the wind outside and the creaking of old wood. Soundlessly, it drifted over the gruesome scene of violence. The mortals would call it a shooting, or a ritual, or any other ridiculous explanation than the truth. It would have laughed if it was capable of laughter. This would anger the Fates. Killing mortals directly was unacceptable. But what would they do about it?

It had nothing to fear anymore, no boundaries to tread. The harvest was here and 1000 years of hunger needed to be sated.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

As hungry as she was, Reyna still insisted on changing out of the horrible togas and into

something more practical. So after a brief shower and combing her hair she threw on a purple tee-shirt and worn jeans. An ornate dagger was fastened in a sheath at the waist and she donned her preator's ring. Not exactly a matching outfit but there wasn't a need to impress anyone today. Percy had gone straight to lunch, not willing to make the detour. Besides, he had been perfectly dry and clean after their visit with Razz. Flipping a few denari to some begging fauns on the way, the praetor arrived at the mess almost 15 minutes late. Rufus was still there waiting there, however, with a big grin on his face as he scooped mashed potatoes, carrots, and some fried mystery meat onto her plate. Invisible servers didn't stick around long after the bell.

Reyna moseyed her way over to the officers table, eyes swaying to note the absence of the third cohort. Only after a pause did she recall that they were working on repairs to the outermost sections of the barrier today. Their meals would have been brought to them. As she settled in, all the other officers at the table respectfully stood. She waved them down and began to eat as quickly as practicable. Percy as usual was not here. He spent most of his meals with the fifth, laughing over stories swapped with Hazel and Frank. But when she cast her gaze to look for him he wasn't where she expected.

He was slumped over a table, apparently in deep conversation with Michael Kahale, one of the centurions who should also have been at the officers table. The son of Venus had been the one to sponsor Octavian's entry into the legion, and had proven himself unquestionably loyal since. He unsettled Reyna, his seeming obscure involvement with Octavian would have made her suspicious already. But more than that was his tendency to take personal interest in correspondences that would otherwise go through Razz's department. She had on multiple occasions asked to review what he had collected, and as of yet she had not found anything suspicious. But she didn't become a praetor by being carless. Roman leaders had a history of being betrayed after all.

So why would Percy be talking to him? Not that Percy didn't talk to everyone. He wasn't quite the image of Roman power most people would imagine, not the image of bravado and distance that emperors and praetors before him emanate. He seemed rather invested in each and every person he met. It was as if he was drawn from an endless well of personality despite not remembering most things about his life. Did he simply invent himself as he met others? That seemed too manipulative for him. No, he was genuine, Reyna was sure. It was as if the person he was before was still rooted there but the experience itself was gone. His body subconsciously knew everything he had been through, but he could not call it to mind.

Reyna shook herself from her speculation. Her food was getting cold and already the other cohorts were beginning to leave. The invisible servants once again swept in to pick up dirty dishes and leftover food to bring to the kitchen. Disregarding proprietary she shoved down food as quickly as she was able. A glance showed that Michael was gone, leaving Percy sitting by himself, seemingly lost in thought. Reyna strode over to him and tapped twice on one shoulder.

"You know, at some point you should come join us. You know, get to know your officers." She tried to keep her voice light hearted. Percy winced.

"Yeah….It just feels presumptuous. I mean, all of them have been here much longer than I have. Pulling rank over them now seems kinda lousy." Reyna looked down to notice he had barely touched his meal. Just a few feet away an invisible servant could be heard shuffling, as if uncertain whether to retrieve the plate. Reyna nodded a dismissal in what she hoped was the right direction.

"It's not just your privilege now," she countered "It's your job. The cohorts need a leader, worry about how they feel later." He didn't answer. Just continued to push around his food with a fork. "What did you consult Michael about?" she pressed, finally giving into her curiosity. At last Percy turned to her.

"Something happened recently, in New Rome," he said. "Normally the cities own government would look into the matter, but they said they would like the legion involved"

"This happened today?"

"No…no they don't think so. Best guess is it happened just as the battle was closing. An older member, an art teacher, sculpture, something like that. Dead in his own workshop." He frowned looking at the tiled designs on the walls as if he could find answers there. "It couldn't have been a monster could it?"

"No," she said, mind racing at the news. "Terminus would know if any monster could have managed to actually penetrate the city limits. He would have said something. I should-"

"Let me handle this," Percy interrupted, "you have enough on your plate as it is. I can look into this and will fill you in when appropriate." Reyna bit her lip, unsure.

"Percy-"

"You told me I need to step into my role, people cant count on me as a leader unless I start taking the responsibility of one. You can't do everything, let me do this." His gaze was locked on hers now. Once again startling green forced her eyes away. A few seconds passed in silence.

"Alright," she relented, "but don't do anything rash. Working with the civilian government has been…tricky in the past. I trust you, but even Octavian has been wary of dealings with the authorities there. Infact," she exhaled, not liking at all what she was about to say, "you should probably bring him with you. Scheming aside he is the most experienced officer we have in diplomacy and public image. If anyone can keep the legislation and the press occupied while you deal with this issue, he can. Besides, he already has a good reputation among the higher ups. It could get you resources you otherwise wouldn't have access to." Percy frowned, obviously finding the idea of working with the child of Apollo distasteful. But in the end he nodded in agreement. He stood and retrieved his tray, moving it into the kitchen. He was still wearing his modified praetor robes, billowing slightly as he strode. "Percy?"

"Yeah?" he said, pausing to glance over his shoulder.

"Be careful." he gave a slight smile and nodded once again, before walking out of sight leaving Reyna alone in the mess.

. . . . . . . . . .

"The Graecus." said Octavian in a lazy drawl. "How may I be of service?" Percy ignored the sarcasm. He didn't know how, but he got the sense he had dealt with these kinds of characters a lot. He didn't need Octavian's respect, just his obedience.

"Reyna says you know how to interact with the government of New Rome. Well we got a situation that just so happens to need a snake with a silver tongue" Okay, so maybe he could have tried a little harder, he was trying to get the demigod's help after all. But Octavian didn't acknowledge the jab.

"I'm flattered. Can I ask what sort of …situation….that would demand we get involved with the legislation?" Octavian was dressed in the same auger clothes he always wore when not in battle or at leisure. Percy didn't think he had ever seen more spotless white silks than what ran across the guy's tunic in drapes. Even standing only feet away he couldn't spot so much as a smudge of dirt anywhere.

"A murder," Percy said, "or at least that's the general feeling. They think it happened during the battle for New Rome. But they say it couldn't be a monster because-"

"Terminus would have seen it, yes," Octavian looked no more interested than before. "That doesn't answer the question, they have their own authorities for a reason. The legion is responsible for quests and the protection of the city limits, not any crime that takes place within. Why come to us?" And this was the most troubling news, and what he hadn't told Reyna.

"We didn't get this…request from the legislation. Not exactly." Percy squeezed his fists. He didn't trust Octavian, but Reyna had been right when she said he was probably their best shot into the politics of New Rome.

"Then who?" Octavian said, checking his nails.

"Hylla," Octavian looked up, eyebrows drawn together in a furrow. "She has representation in New Rome, although maybe a better term is spies, who knows how long. She didn't tell Reyna of course. But whoever it was told us something unsettling. Apparently the man that was murdered was married. I guess it wasn't common knowledge, but his wife was a former Amazon."

"Amazons don't take husbands from New Rome, they use mortals. People they can subordinate."

"That's just it. Apparently they met before he joined the legion. From what I can gather he joined the legion late. He was almost 20 when being sponsored for the fullmanata." Octavian was now genuinely captivated. "They got married before he ever came to New Rome."

"A demigod surviving on their own for 20 year? How? And what of his bride? How did no one catch this?" The augur was pacing now, pieces fitting together in his head.

"It was noted. He was never claimed in the entire time he served in the legion. The praetor at the time, someone named Cricelius, kept it low profile out of mercy. The humiliation of never being recognized by a godly parent, I can't imagine.." Percy trailed off. Why did his heart squeeze in such a way? Sure Neptune had never formally claimed him here, but surely in his past life. This other camp… He shut his eyes against the familiar rush of anger and pain. The memory was right there, he could feel it. It was like the sprinkling promise of rain without the shower. Every thought appeared as a taste, a smell, a face, only to vanish like a vapor.

"So some unclaimed demigod, who was married to a former Amazon, gets killed in the heart of New Rome." Octavian said slowly. "What does this have to do with us?"

"That's just it," Percy said softly "He was claimed. He just wasn't claimed here." In truth, he hadn't heard all of this from Michael. This he had been told by Hylla herself, in the deepest hours of the night and the spare minutes before the last Senate meeting over IM. Her whispers of confidence when she couldn't bear to face her sister with her betrayal, but knew of oncoming tragedy and how it might be prevented. "I do not know the wife's name, but she called him her opus mannam. Crafter, of stone, steel and fire." Even as he said it the pieces came together in Percy's head, and the realization froze his heart.

"Fire, yes but Vulcan is not the god of crafts," Octavian said, "A Roman of craft would not have been claimed by him."

"No, not Roman. A Greek." Percy swallowed, his mouth dry as sand. "He knew. All this time he knew about the other camp. He was taken in by it. That's how he survived outside of Camp Jupiter. He was never actually alone. At some point he left, or got separated, and he ended up here." He recalled a conversation he had with Gwen about how long ago the gods had decided it best to keep Romans and Greeks separate. And when they did meet, when they fought, the memory was wiped away as if it had never happened. Apparently at some point this was overlooked. And if it happened once it was bound to happen again. Whoever this man was clearly knew enough to keep his mouth shut to not draw the attention of the gods. But this opened up a horrifying possibility about his sudden death.

"A child of Hephaestus" Octavian, slumped against the wall behind him, face white as snow. "I can see why you did not tell Reyna. She would be…disheartened to know her own blood has moved behind her back." After recovering from the shock, he nodded to himself "I will go with you." Percy didn't know whether to be relieved or worried. Octavian had been very open about his disdain for Percy's own Greek background. While he didn't believe that the augur was responsible for the murder personally, he wasn't sure what opportunity he might see this as. But at the moment Percy had little choice but to trust him. There was no chance he could get past the civilian authority without him.

At Octavian's request, they stopped by the first cohort where he went into the officer quarters to retrieve items and change into more appropriate attire. As they made their way to the city limits Percy's mind was racing at the implications of the whole situation. There could be another reason, of course. Something completely unrelated to the fact that the victim was a Greek. Isolated incidents were not proof of concept, this could just be a coincidence. But Percy didn't think so. He was completely unfamiliar with the politics of New Rome. From what he knew it was a completely different animal than the Senate meetings for the legion. These were people with decades of experience in conniving, plotting, and governing. An if there was one thing he did know about Rome is that murder was never a coincidence.

"Do you think there are others?" Percy asked as they paced the steps. Octavian shrugged.

"I suppose, if it happened once it could happen many more times. But to keep it a secret this long is hard to believe."

"A secret from us" Percy emphasized "Obviously somebody knew about this. Otherwise he wouldn't have died. Either someone from his past found him or he let it slip. That is hard to believe after almost a decade of secrecy but I suppose it is possible." Percy paused for a moment over another sobering thought. "Maybe I shouldn't have been so public with what I knew about my past." Octavian laughed.

"Your habit of spouting Greek curses does not help to conceal you. I doubt there are many who wouldn't have guessed what you were anyway Percy Jackson." Another snort, "Carrying a goddess up to the Tiber, upturning the water with your will, you are many things praetor. But subtle is not one of them." He sobered for a moment. "I do not think they would be so bold as to make a move on you now, at least not yet. It has been a long time since a Roman leader was successfully assassinated in office." Percy didn't like the boy's carefree, almost gleeful, tone. He still didn't trust that he wasn't the one who had stabbed Gwen after the practice battle two weeks ago.

"Well?" Percy started. "You're the augur, go gut some stuffed animals and ask if my throat will be slit in my sleep tonight." Octavian rolled his eyes.

"It doesn't work like that. I can't inquire of the gods anything specific. Not without a prophecy. But even if I could.." He looked away, obviously not liking what he was about to say "I haven't had much success gleaning the will of those that have been recently. Oh there have been times before where prayers have gone unanswered. But this radio silence is new."

"Is it?" Percy pressed. "Aren't the gods going all schizo over their split personalities. Shouldn't be a huge surprise that daddy isn't picking up the phone." Octavian looked annoyed. But that brought up another point. "And if that's the case, how did you get any auguries these past few weeks to begin with? The one you said you got about my arrival at camp. Where did that come from?"

"It's different," Octavian said in a superior tone. "When Rome conquered Greece, they recognized most of the gods as different entities with different names. The identities changed even if the power was the same. But Apollo is the same in Greek and Roman. Although the name Phoebus was used to address the aspect of his prophecy to the priests, his identity remained the same throughout the ages. He was adopted. He was not adapted." He looked up towards Temple Mount where the symbol of Apollo stood tall in the distance. "No…his absence is more recent. I can't help but wonder if Jupiter is responsible." Percy scrunched his face.

"Doesn't Phoebus mean sun? I thought that was the title for the emperor's throne, an image of position, not of prophecy. If all prophecy was done through the priests, why would the aspect of Apollo associated with the future rest on the head of military power and dominion?" Another exasperated look was shot his way, as if all this should be obvious.

"Because back when Augustus re-established a culture centered on recognition of the Roman gods, he implemented himself as Pontifex Maximus. From that point forward, the emperor was the high priest. The head of the Collegium. As a child of Apollo himself it was easy enough to prove." They arrived at the city limits, where two hapless citizens were doing their best to attach the nearby Terminus head to his limbless body. Even from a hundred feet away everyone could hear the loud and constant complaining coming from the god of borders.

"To the left, no your other left, my left! A little higher. You useless snarf rats, I have half a mind to slap you-"

"Terminus," Percy called once they drew near.

"Ah! Praetor! Don't mind these bumbling idiots. You'd think they'd show some effort after I saved them from that blasted giant. Turn my head so I can see him!" The Romans quickly rotated the statue head so that it was facing Percy and Octavian. When the god saw the auger, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Back so soon? I thought after the last Senate meeting you would be hiding up on your hill committing genocide."

"He's here with me on business," Percy said. "We are heading into the city to address the legislation and local governors." He hesitated a moment before continuing. "And I need you to let me keep my weapon this time." The statues gaze fixed on Percy.

"No weapons within the city limits Jackson, you know this. There are no exceptions. Not even for a praetor." He looked back and forth between the two. "What's this about anyway?" Percy and Octavian glanced at each other but didn't speak. After a moment Percy glanced at the two romans that were still holding Terminus's head and the statues face donned realization.

"Ah, yes, official business." He cleared his throat and addressed the others "You both may go, you can expect a full written report on your obtuse behavior by tomorrow submitted to your superiors." Percy chose not to comment on the fact that the god couldn't even hold a pen, and therefore would have trouble submitting a written report to begin with. The two men glanced at each other, then at Percy. Sighing, he stepped forward to brace Terminus's head himself so the others could let go. In moments they were scampering out of sight and Percy looked the statue in the eyes.

"There's been a murder," the praetor said bluntly, "A man, sculptor by trade, killed on the eve of the recent battle. He was killed in his own workshop, right here in New Rome." Terminus's face hardened.

"Impossible! I was here the entire time, no mon-"

"No monsters made it into the city, I know, I don't think any of them could have gotten past you unnoticed. He was killed by someone already here."

"But how?" was the response. "I told you there are no weapons within the city limits."

"Yeah?" Octavian jumped in, "And what exactly counts as a weapon?" Apparently the statue didn't have a great answer for this, so Percy filled in.

"They say he was killed by a chisel. You know, a sharp pointed object, generally used for sculpting stone. Right through his temple." Percy gestured at a point just above his nose. "Whoever did this obviously didn't have a blade to get the job done. They are resourceful and dangerous. That's why I need you to let me bring Riptide." The statue didn't look angry now, just kind of sad.

"I told you, no exceptions. I didn't make this rule but I agree with it. I'm sorry, really I am. But this isn't something that can be bent for a case by case scenario. I know you don't believe this, you demigods never do, but it's for your own good." A pause. "What was this man's name?"

"Dale," Percy said quietly. "I don't know his first name, but apparently he was well respected at the school he worked at. One of his star students found him after he had already been dead for days." For a statue, there was a surprising amount of emotion on Terminus's face.

"Ah, yes. I knew him. He crafted my bodies bordering the outer park fountains they put in a few years ago. Some of my favorites." A somewhat sad chuckle, "he would have known how to fix me nice and proper." The statue sighed deeply. "Look, I still can't let you bring the sword in. But I will help you. There is a woman who worked with him on some of his earlier projects when he was still in school. Her name is Genidia Crat, a daughter of Ceres. She now is governor over the nimis acri district." Terminus tried unsuccessfully to jerk his head in a direction behind him. "Over there you will find maps to the different districts although," his gazes settled on Octavian "although this one is familiar enough with it already."

"Thank you," Percy said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his pen. "Umm, where is Julia?"

"Oh, she is with one of the sitters that takes her to meals, and trains her from time to time. She will one day have to join the legion after all." The statue's tone was laced with slight affection. "Strong girl, you can just leave the pen on the pedestal, it will still be here when you return." Percy nodded and almost made to move towards the place Terminus had referenced, then paused awkwardly. "Just set me on the ground, face up if you would. I am sure somebody will come fix me up."

—-

Comments:

nimis acri- Latin: meaning sharp, or razor

opus mannam- Latin: directly translated as crafter or forger, was often later used in context some simply something from which things come. Or more interestingly, brought from heat.

How Roman culture adapted to those they conquered is fascinating in all facets of their long history, but none is more prominent than the Greeks. There is a saying, Graecia capta ferum victorem cepit ("Captive Greece captured her rude conqueror"). When you think about the different aspects of art, literature, science, and military power that were brought into the fold of the Roman empire, only Greece stands as the most obvious influencer of her religion. But the way they adopted it was not as if the gods just came into being when discovered. Rather they were treated as though they were always the gods of rome. As early back as Mars fathering Romulus. History fell into place as more and more gods were added to their own "history". It almost makes you wonder if in Rick Riordan's cannon the gods built themselves around human culture, rather than the other way around. Of course in this reality all these events were observed by someone but still, if they only manifested in roman for after Greece was conquered and most of the legends take place before the founding of Rome….

Anyway, the reason I made this fiction in the first place was because after reading SON, I found myself distasteful about the set up and how it left off. I loved the idea of Percy being in the Roman camp and becoming a prominent figure there. But it was rushed and short lived. I have no idea why Riordan decided to have Percy only awake for the few weeks before Argo II arrived. I loved his interacting with the Roman characters (Especially Reyna) and wanted to create a world where that was expounded upon and where he could actually establish some lasting Roman roots.

I changed Octavian's character a bit because I really feel he is polarized in canon. On one hand he is introduced as a powerful and sly individual who can talk his way past most situations. Someone to be feared and wary of. Yet in the end he is mostly represented as incompetent and an outright traitor who didn't earn his position at all. This didn't sit right with me. I still want to maintain that core enmity between him and the predators, but I feel he truly did care about Rome. Given the right circumstances I believe he could have been a huge asset rather than this offshore antagonist that serves no other real purpose.

This is my first real attempt at putting my work out there, so reviews are super, super, SUPER appreciated. I am a pilot working on my instrument rating going to school full time. I will try to get these updates out once a week, maybe two weeks depending but I am pretty busy most of the time. Depending on feedback I will see how far I take this.