On their way to see Octavian, Frank filled him in on Octavian and the monuments and temples they passed by.
"Octavian's a legacy," Frank said. "Son of a demigod of Apollo. Now—supposedly, he's got the gift of prophecy."
"Supposedly?"
Frank made a sour face. "You'll see."
"So, the divisions," Percy asked. "The Cohorts or whatever—you're divided according to who your godly parent is?"
"Gods no. No, the officers decide where to assign recruits. If we were divided according to gods, the cohorts would be uneven. The unclaimed, like me, would be alone. Hazel would be alone."
"Why? What's her ancestry?"
"Daughter of Pluto. Most people in the legion think she's bad luck. Me? I like her."
"And you're in the Fifth Cohort," Percy guessed, "Which maybe isn't the most popular?"
"Yeah. Hazel joined a month before me."
Frank pointed south, across the river. Dark clouds were gathering over Temple Hill. Red flashes of lightning washed over the monuments in blood-colored light.
"Octavian is busy," Frank said. "We'd better get over there."
They walked the rest of the way to Temple Hill in silence, Frank letting Percy digest the information. A crooked stone path led past a crazy assortment of tiny alters and massive domed vaults. Statues of gods seemed to follow Percy with their eyes.
Frank pointed out the Temple of Bellona. "Goddess of war," he said. "That's Reyna's mom." Frank pointed to where the lightning was coming from. A ring of white columns supporting a domed roof. "Octavian reads auguries there, at your uncle's temple, Jupiter Optimus Maximus."
Percy had to think about it, but the Latin words clicked into English. "Jupiter. . . the best and the greatest?"
"Right."
Above them thunder rumbled, red lightning lit up the hill.
"Octavian's almost done," Frank said. "Let's go."
Jupiter's temple was definitely Optimus and Maximus.
The marble floor was etched with fancy mosaics and Latin inscriptions. Sixty feet above, the domed ceiling sparkled gold. The whole temple was open to the wind. When Percy had stepped into the temple, thunder boomed even louder, which made Frank jump—much to Percy's amusement.
In the center stood a marble alter, where a kid in a toga was doing some sort of ritual in front of a massive golden statue of Jupiter himself.
The kid at the alter raised his hands. More red lightning flashed in the sky, shaking the temple. Then he put his hands down, and the rumbling stopped. The clouds turned from grey to white and broke apart.
A pretty impressive trick, considering the kid didn't look like much. He was tall and skinny, with straw colored hair, oversized jeans, a baggy t-shirt, and a drooping toga. He looked like a scarecrow wearing a bedsheet.
"What's he doing?" Percy murmured.
The guy in the toga turned. He had a crooked smile and a slightly crazy look in his eyes, like he'd just been playing an intense videogame. In one hand he held a knife. In the other was something like a dead animal. That didn't make him look any less crazy.
"Percy," Frank said. "This is Octavian. New Rome's auger."
"Ah Greggus," Octavian announced. "How-"
"Uh, actually it's Percy, not Gregg," Percy interrupted.
Frank coughed. "No, he said Graecus- Greek. Didn't you hear the Lares calling you that earlier?"
"What? No, why're they calling me 'Greek'?"
"You do look a little Greek. You've got the complexion, the dark hair and all. Maybe they think you're actually Greek. Is your family from there?"
"Don't know. Like I said, my memory's gone. . . Although it sounds familiar— definitely could be from around there." Percy's head began to hammer, as if he was digging for information that he wasn't supposed to retrieve. It eventually subsided though.
Octavian coughed. "Now that that's settled-"
"Are you killing small animals?" Percy interrupted again.
Octavian looked at the fuzzy thing in his hand and laughed. "No, no. Once upon a time, yes. We used to read the will of the gods by exhuming animal guts- chickens, goats, that sort of thing. Nowadays we use these."
He tossed the fuzzy thing to Percy. It was a disemboweled teddy bear. Then Percy noticed a whole pile of mutilated stuffed animals at the foot of Jupiter's statue.
"Seriously?" Percy asked. "Don't you guys have an oracle?"
"No, sadly we do not have an oracle just lying around—if we had the Sibylline books, our books of prophecy, then we would have a better idea. Maybe we could've ordered a quest to find Jason. But, our only remaining praetor," he said the word like it was poison on his tongue. "Refuses to send a quest out to retrieve it. It's probably with the eagle too."
"That's because Reyna's not stupid," Frank said.
Octavian stepped off the dais. He was probably about eighteen, but so skinny and sickly pale, he could've passed for younger. He might've been tall, but Percy was taller. At first, he looked harmless, but as he got closer, Percy wasn't so sure. Octavian's eyes glittered with harsh curiosity, like he might gut Percy as easily as a teddy bear if he thought he could learn something from it.
Octavian narrowed his eyes. "You seem nervous."
"You remind me of someone," Percy said. "I can't remember who."
"Possibly my namesake, Octavian—Augustus Caesar. Everyone says I bear a remarkable resemblance."
Percy didn't think that was it, but he couldn't pin down the memory. "Why did you call me "Greek'?"
"I saw it in the Auguries." Octavian waved his knife at the pile of stuffing on the altar. "The message said: The Greek has arrived. Or possibly The Goose has cried. I'm thinking the first interpretation is correct. You seek to join the legion?"
Percy nodded.
"Good news!" He said, turning to Frank. "Percy may join the legion. We'll assign him to a legion at evening muster. Tell Reyna that I approve."
"OK. . . Uh—Let's go Percy. Come on." Frank jumped at the chance to leave Octavian and his teddy-bear morgue.
After a Roman bath, Percy was stood off to the side with a couple of guards. He had fresh clothes, but still looked uncomfortable standing up there, in front of the entire legion. Could you blame him? He was about to be introduced to two hundred heavily armed kids.
It was a pretty intimidating sight. The first four cohorts, each forty kids strong, stood in rows in front of their barracks on either side of the via Praetoria. The Fifth Cohort assembled at the very end, in front of the Principia, since their barracks were tucked in the back corner of Camp next to the stables and the latrines.
The campers were dressed for war. Their polished chain mail and greaves gleamed over purple t-shirts and jeans. Sword and skull designs decorated their helmets. Even their leather combat boots looked ferocious with their iron cleats, great for marching through mud or stomping on faces.
In front of the legionares, like a line of giant dominoes, stood their red and gold shields, each the size of a refrigerator door. Every legionnaire carried a harpoon-like spear called a pilum, a gladius, a dagger, and about a hundred pounds of other equipment. If you were out of shape when you came into the legion, you didn't stay that way for long. Just walking around in your armor was a full-body workout.
Octavian stood in front of the First Cohort, looking smug in his plumed Centurion helmet, with a dozen medals pinned on his chest.
Reyna was cantering back and forth on her Pegasus, Scipio—nicknamed Skippy because he was the color of Peanut butter. Her metal hounds Aurum and Argentum trotted at her side. Her purple officer's cape billowed behind her.
The Lares were last to fall in. Their purple forms flickered as they jockeyed for placed. They had an annoying habit of standing halfway inside living people, so that the ranks looked like a blurry photograph. But finally, the centurions got them sorted out.
Octavian shouted, "Colors!"
The standard-bearers stepped forward. They wore lion-skin capes and held poles decorated with each cohorts' emblems. The last to present his standard was Jacob. The legions eagle bearer. He held a long pole with absolutely nothing on top. The job was supposed to be a big honor, but Jacob obviously hated it. Even though Reyna insisted on following tradition, every time the eagle-less pole was raised, Hazel and Frank could feel embarrassment ripple through the legion.
Reyna brought her Pegasus to a halt. "Romans!" She announced. "Juno herself guided newcomer, Percy Jackson, here and proclaimed him a son of Neptune."
A wave of whispers washed over the legion at this news. They lost their other Praetor, Jason, a son of Jupiter, two weeks ago, only to gain a son of Neptune.
The kids in the back rows craned their necks to see Percy.
He raised his hand and said, "Hi."
"He seeks to join the legion," Reyna continued. "What do the auguries say?"
"I have read the entrails!" Announced Octavian, as if he'd killed a lion with his bare hands, rather than ripping a stuffed panda pillow. "The auguries are favorable. He is qualified to serve."
The campers gave a shout, "Ave!" Hail
Reyna motioned the Senior officers forward—one from each Cohort. Octavian, as the most senior Centurion, turned to Percy.
"Recruit," he asked, "do you have credentials? Letters of reference?"
A lot of kids brought letters from older demigods in the outside world, adults who were veterans of the camp. A good letter could get you a position in the better Cohorts, sometimes even special jobs like legion messenger, which made you exempt from the grunt work like digging ditches or conjugating Latin verbs.
Percy shifted. "Letters? Um, no."
Octavian wrinkled his nose. "No letters," Octavian said regretfully. "Will any legionnaires stand for him?"
Frank stepped forward, "I will!"
Immediately there were shouts of protest from the other Cohorts. Reyna raised her hand for quiet and glared at Frank.
"Frank Zhang," she said. "Your godly parent has not claimed you yet. You're also on probatio, and thus are not able to stand for another camper until you've earned your first stripe."
Frank locked his eyes to his feet, looking like he might die of embarrassment.
The only things stopping the other Cohorts from standing for Percy was the fact that half the shouts of protest were from the Lares, calling him graecus, and nobody in New Rome liked a graecus. Percy also didn't look like very much when he was standing there. Two weeks of living off very little food, and constant exercise made him lose a lot of weight. Percy was tall and lanky rather than muscular. Other than that, the other Cohorts would've snapped him up.
Both Hazel and Frank looked at Dakota, one of the two Centurions of the Fifth Cohort, who sighed and stood for Percy.
Reyna wrinkled her nose at the thought of Percy being in the Fifth Cohort, but she turned to Octavian. The auger smiled and shrugged, like the idea amused him. Octavian never liked Jason, and now the fact that the last three children of the big three to come to Camp Jupiter were placed in the disgraced Fifth Cohort was almost too much for him.
"Very well," Reyna announced. "Dakota, you may stand for the recruit. Does your Cohort accept him?"
The other Cohorts started coughing, trying not to laugh. Hazel knew what they were thinking: Another loser for the Fifth.
Both Dakota and Gwen shared a look, like: Here we go again. Frank pounded his shield against the ground and the rest of the Cohort followed, though not very enthusiastically.
Reyna looked at Percy with pity. "Congratulations, Percy Jackson. You stand on probatio. You will be given a tablet with your name and Cohort. In one year's time- or as soon as you complete an act of valor, you will become a full member of the Twelfth Legion Fulminata. Serve Rome, obey the rules of the legion, defend the camp with honor. Senatus Polulusqe Romanus!"
The rest of the legion echoed the cheer.
"Centurions," Reyna said, "you and your troops have one hour for dinner. Then we will meet on the Field of Mars. The First and Second Cohort will defend. The Third, Fourth, and Fifth will attack. Good Fortune!"
A bigger cheer went up for the war games and for dinner. The Cohorts broke rank and ran for the mess hall.
One of the guards had given Percy his probatio nameplate. Percy strung it on his leather necklace with the one clay bead.
At least the camp food was good. Invisible wind spirits—aurae—waited on the campers and seemed to know exactly what everyone wanted. They blew plates and cups around so quickly, the mess hall looked like a delicious hurricane. If you got up too fast, you were likely to get beaned by beans or potted by pot roast.
Percy got a cheeseburger and blue-soda, he didn't know why. But he tried it, and grinned. "This makes me happy," he said. "I don't know why. . . But it does."
Just for a moment, one of the aurae became visible—an elfin girl in a white silk dress. She giggled as she topped off Percy's glass then disappeared in a gust.
Laughter echoed off the walls. War banners rustled from cedar ceiling beams as aurae blew back and forth, keeping everyone's plates full. The campers dined in Roman style, sitting on couches around low tables. Kids were constantly getting up and trading places, spreading rumors about who liked whom and all the other gossip.
The Fifth Cohort's tables were in the back of the dining hall next to the kitchen. At Percy's table sat Hazel, Frank, and Percy.
Their house god, Vitellius, shimmered into existence, standing half embedded in Frank's crotch.
"I hope you're ready new kids," he said. "This Legion fights worse than we did in Judea, and that was the first time we lost our eagle. Why, if I were in charge-"
Just as quickly as he'd appeared, he was gone—mid sentence.
"What was that about?" Percy asked.
"The Fifth Cohort hasn't won in a very, very long time," Hazel said.
There was a pause before anyone spoke. It was Frank this time, "I wish I was ADHD or dyslexic."
"What?" Percy asked, confusion plastered to his face.
"Yah, you guys all have ADHD or Dyslexia, and all I got was Lactose Intolerance."
Percy grinned. "Seriously?"
Franks shoulders slumped. "And I love Ice cream, too. . ."
Percy laughed. Hazel couldn't help joining in.
"Okay, so tell me," Percy said. "Why is it bad to be in the Fifth Cohort? You guys are great."
Hazel answered. "It's. . . complicated. Aside from being Pluto's kid, I want to ride horses."
"That's why you've got the cavalry sword?"
She nodded. "It's stupid, I guess. Wishful thinking. There's only one Pegasus at camp—Reyna's. The unicorns are just kept for medicine, because the shavings off their horns cure poison and stuff. Anyway, Roman fighting is always done on foot. Cavalry. . . They kind of look down on that. So, they look down on me."
"Their loss," Percy said. "What about you Frank?"
"Archery," he muttered. "They don't like that either, unless you're a child of Apollo. Then you've got an excuse. I hope my dad is Apollo, but I don't know. I can't do poetry very well. And I'm not sure I want to be related to Octavian. They think I should be a sword fighter because I'm big and bulky." He looked down at his body, like he couldn't believe it was his. "They say I'm too stocky for an archer."
"You asked about the Fifth," Hazel said. "Why it's the worst Cohort. That actually started way before us."
She pointed at the back wall, where the legion's standards were on display. "See the empty pole in the middle?"
"The eagle," Percy answered.
Hazel was stunned. "How'd you know?"
He shrugged. "Vitellius was talking about how the legion lost its eagle a long time ago—the first time, he said. He acted like it was a huge disgrace. I'm guessing that's what's missing. And from the way Octavian talked about Reyna, I'm sure it was lost again, and he thinks the Sibylline books are with the eagle, and the loss had something to do with the Fifth Cohort."
Hazel made a mental note not to underestimate Percy again. When he first arrived, she'd thought he was a little goofy, but clearly, he was smarter than he let on.
"You're right," she said. "That's exactly what happened."
"So, what is this eagle anyway? Why is it a big deal?"
Frank looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "It's the symbol of the whole camp—a big eagle made of gold. It's supposed to protect us in battle and make our enemies afraid. Each legions eagle gave it all sorts of power and ours came from Jupiter himself. Supposedly Julius Caesar nicknamed our legion 'Fulminata'- armed with lightning—because of what the eagle could do."
"Yeah, well," Hazel said. "It didn't make us invincible. The Twelfth lost its eagle the first-time way back in ancient days, during the Jewish rebellion. Each legion guarded theirs to the last man, because it was charged with power from the gods. They'd rather hide it or melt it down rather than surrender it to an enemy. The Twelfth was lucky the first time we got our eagle back. But the second time. . ."
"You guys were there?" Percy asked.
They both shook their heads.
"I'm almost as new as you." Frank tapped his probatio plate. "Just got here, Hazel got here a month before me. But everyone's heard the story. It's bad luck to even talk about this."
Hazel filled Percy in on the rest. How the Senior Praetor from the Fifth Cohort tried to figure out a prophecy and make it come true. He was warned by the augur that it was too soon, but they went to Alaska anyway. Any survivors refused to talk about what had attacked them.
"Since the eagle was lost," Frank intervened. "The camp has been getting weaker. Quests are more dangerous. Monsters attack the borders more often. Morale is lower.
"And the Fifth Cohort took the blame," Percy guessed. "So now everyone thinks we're cursed."
Hazel spoke up. "We've been outcasts of the legion since. Our reputation got better when Jason became praetor. They say he was a good leader. Grew up in the Fifth Cohort. He didn't care what people thought about us. He started to rebuild our reputation, then he disappeared. . . I'm sorry Percy, now you know what you've gotten yourself into."
Percy sipped his blue-soda and gazed thoughtfully. "I don't know even know where I came from. . . But I've got the feeling this isn't the first time I've been an underdog. I've got myself some new friends. Maybe together we can turn things around for the Fifth Cohort, huh?"
A horn blew at the end of the hall. The officers at the praetor's table got to their feet—even Dakota, his mouth vampire red from Kool-Aid.
"The games begin!" Reyna announced. The campers cheered and rushed to collect their equipment from the stacks along the walls.
"So, we're the attacking team?" Percy asked over the noise. "Is that good?"
Hazel shrugged. "Good news: we get the elephant. Bad news-"
"Let me guess," Percy said. "The Fifth Cohort always loses."
Frank slapped Percy on the shoulder. "I love this guy. Come on, new friend. Let's go chalk up my seventh defeat in a row!"