Camp Half-Blood was a lot more homely than I imagined. From the outside, it appears as a vast strawberry farm. I climbed a large hill with a sullen pine tree before seeing the entrance. A single stone path leads the way through rows of cabins. From the symbols, I deduce that each cabin hosts demigod children of their respective parents.
A centaur clops his way up the path from what appears to be a large mansion. He appears as a middle-aged man from the waist up, and a white stallion after that. He is wearing a white dress shirt with an Armani jacket. His long hair is sprawled all behind him. As soon as he sees Apollo behind me, his stare widens.
"Lord Apollo, I see that you have personally escorted a half-blood here," he begins. "Why have you appeared here? Is this someone special, perhaps another child of the Big Three? I do not see anything striking about this young lad, though."
"He is not a demigod from his own claims, but I have sensed far more about this child," Apollo replies. "His skill set is unlike any I have ever seen. I know is that he is a legacy of mine, but he's not an average legacy. He has as much divine blood as any demigod. He also mentions the Egyptian pantheon and his dealings with them. It's best he comes here. I have observed his movements, and he's under twice as much danger. The fact that he can enter camp is already a promising sign."
"Well, one of our satyrs must have already reported on him," the centaur mused.
"Sydney Broussard?" I ask.
"You're the demigod from New Orleans, Arthur Romanchuk?" the centaur questions. He begins to speak in Estonian, which was quite alarming. "I have heard of who you are. If the prophecy is true, we have little time to spare. Come, young one. We will get you situated immediately."
Apollo leaves, and I follow the centaur to the mansion.
"My name is Chiron," he says, now back in English.
"Chiron, as in, the trainer of Achilles, Aeneas, and all those heroes before?" I interject.
"Yes indeed," he replies. "I see that you are a sharp one. There are many questions I need you to answer before we can integrate you into camp. I believe it's best you now live here year-round. You are under twice as much danger, being also claimed by the Twenty-First Nome."
I decide not to comment on how he knew that and his decision.
"Mr. D, or Dionysus, is our camp director."
Again, not going to question why.
"We will all sit for a game of pinocle. A sharp lad like you ought to know the rules already?"
"Yes, sir," I answer.
I enter the Big House. Ignoring the talking leopard on the wall and the pictures of many past heroes, we make our way to the game room. A pudgy man awaits us with decks of cards and many, many gold coins. Drachmas. The man has a purple Hawaiian shirt and a necklace of what appears to be grapevine. I bow before the God of Wine for a moment, an act he finds amusing.
Between rounds of Pinocle, I explain my whole story of the events of this week. I explained how I encountered my distant relative in Charlotte, and the several fights I got into.
"Your skills seem typical of a son of Hermes, being so adaptable." Chiron begins. "Yet you claim to be an excellent mason and combat engineer, typical of Hephaestus. You also have the archery of Apollo, the ability to hold your breath much longer than usual like a legacy of Poseidon, and brains worthy of Athena. Again, I question who exactly are you, and what does your arrival mean."
"I usually hold no sympathy for most demigods," Mr. D begins. "But seeing that you know nothing of your heritage, I will tell you this: you are also my legacy; I can sense that much. How come a legacy can be as divine as a half-blood is beyond me. Legacies of two or even seven gods at the same time are not uncommon, but you are truly someone unusual. What do you have to say for yourself?"
I turn to face Mr. D. Just as I was about to begin speaking, Mr. D begins to flicker.
"Oh Hades!" Dionysis moans out. "My head, oh my gods my head!"
In his flickering and moans of pain, I see a different person before me. He is wearing a Roman toga, and his can of Diet Coke shifts into a Diet Pepsi. He's leaner, and he wields a staff with a pine cone at its tip. His demeanor is far more serious, like the face of a disciplined army general. Is this what I think it is? I test my theory.
"Lord Bacchus, is that you?" I ask.
Suddenly, his form solidifies. His being settled on the form I saw in the flickering.
"Yes, Arthur Romanchuk," he answers. "There is something you haven't told me. What did Apollo say about what happens when he speaks to you?"
"He says he gets a slight headache," I answer. Suddenly, Bacchus shifts back into Dionysus.
"I see now. Perhaps it is because Apollo is still Apollo as a Roman, but you are far worse for gods like me. Now that I have sensed the same in both aspects, I know one more thing about you: you are my legacy in both aspects, Greek and Roman. How that happened is way beyond me at this point. Apollo must have felt the same. For now, you shall lodge in the Hermes Cabin. I cannot give you room in my cabin, nor in Apollo's cabin, for you are not a child of either of us. I shall go to Olympus at once to discuss you. For now, Welcome to Camp Half-Blood."
With that being said, Dionysis flashed himself out of the room.
"One must be wily with the Hermes campers," Chiron warns. "They are a rowdy bunch."