This is literally the last copy chapter now that all the rest or Original like the Gladiator battles and Rowan's training.
Rowan was in awe as he saw the Legion, feeling waves of intense power, the collective divine energy of each child radiating from the hoard of demigods and legacies. 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 legionnaires, like a line of giant dominoes, stood their red and gold shields, each the size of a refrigerator door. Every legionnaire carried a harpoonlike spear called a pilum, a gladius, a dagger, and about a hundred pounds of other equipment. Rowan, a voracious reader, had heard of these things but never saw them in person. To say it was impressive was understatment.
Rowan was standing off to one side with a couple of guards. His hair was wet from the baths. He'd put on fresh clothes and felt great, clean and warm. However, looking at the death machines they called legionaries, he was a tad nervous.
The Lares were the last ones to fall in. Their purple forms flickered as they jockeyed for places. 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-skincapes and held poles decorated with each cohort's emblems. The last to present his standard was a tall boy with a deeply embarrassed expression on his face. He held a long pole with absolutely nothing on top.
"Romans!" Alexander announced. "A young mortal, surviving Lupa's training, has come to us. "
The kids in the back rows craned their necks to see Rowan. He bowed his head, looking humble as he could."
"He seeks to join the legion," Chandler continued. "What do the auguries say?"
"I have read the entrails!" Octavian announced, as if he'd killed a lion with his bare hands rather than ripping up a stuffed panda pillow. "The auguries are favorable. He is qualified to serve!"
The campers gave a shout: "Ave!" Hail!
Alexander motioned the senior officers forward—one from each cohort. Octavian, turned to Rowan.
"Recruit," he asked, "do you have credentials? Letters of reference?"
Rowan shifted. "Letters? No, I have no family but why does that matter. Rome was famous for taking in drifters to their cause?"
Octavian wrinkled his nose, but Alexander smiled. "A fair point."
"No letters," Octavian said regretfully. "Will any legionnaires stand for him?"
"I will!" Jason stepped forward.
Immediately there were shouts of protest from the other cohorts, apparently Jason was a big deal like Rowan had guessed.
"Son of Jupiter, why would you claim this boy? This mortal?" Chandler started.
Jason spoke, his tone cold. "He has potential. When we were talking by the baths, he mentioned that he could sense the energies of others. My powers included, I think that is a sign of magical potential, a gift sparked by interest and Lupa's training. We have so few magic users, it would serve us extremely well if we allowed him to master that art. More to that, he is extremely well versed in the facts of our world, knowing a great deal. I stand for him, as he can be great, if given the chance."
Chandler wrinkled his nose, but he turned to Octavian. The augur smiled and shrugged, like the idea amused him.
"Very well," Alexander announced. "Jason Grace, you may stand for the recruit. Does your cohort accept him?"
To Rowan's shock, several people pounded their shields against the ground. The other members of the Fifth followed their lead, though they didn't seem very excited.
"My cohort has spoken," A girl with blue eyes, the centurion for the Fifth Cohort said. "We accept the recruit."
Chandler looked at Rowan with pity. "Congratulations, Rowan. 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, and defend the camp with honor. Senatus Populusque Romanus!"
The rest of the legion echoed the cheer.
"Centurions," Chandler said, "you and your troops have one hour for dinner. Then we will meet on the Colosseum. Today is gladiator battles, ready yourselves!" qw
A bigger cheer went up—for the war games and for dinner. The cohorts broke ranks and ran for the mess hall.
Jason waved at Rowan, who made his way through the crowd.
One of the guards had given Rowan his probatio nameplate.
"Thanks, Jason... so what'... " he said. "Um, what exactly does it mean—your standing for me?"
"I guarantee your good behavior," Jason explained. "I teach you the rules, answer your questions, make sure you don't disgrace the legion."
"And…if I do something wrong?"
"Then I get killed along with you," Jason said. "Hungry? Let's eat."
Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews.
This was fun.
Love, your Ninja Overlord,
Mika.