It was a good thing I wasn't afraid of ghosts.

Because half the camp was dead.

Shimmering figures walked around the the fields ahead of me. Some were sunbathing while others were fishing, casting lines that shimmered in and out of reality every time the light changed. A couple of them played some form of football, but it was hard to tell what they were doing, because every time they kicked the ball their legs passed right through it.

"What are those—"

"Lares. Household gods."

"Household gods?" I frowned. "So, like, smaller than regular gods but bigger than cabin gods?"

Anahita cracked a smile at that.

"The Lares are very commonly just ancient members of Camp Jupiter itself. They're here to oversee things, and they each have their own realms, which they can influence and are in charge of maintaining. You know, things like democracy, equality, toilet paper and Latin verb conjugation."

"You have a god for toilet paper? What's he like?"

"She's pretty cool, actually. She's part of our cohort— no surprise," Anahita grumbled, sounded resentful, "and her name's Shite. She makes sure we, uh, don't run out."

A couple of the lares looked up as we passed. One even tried to pickpocket me, but their hand just passed through my whole body without actually touching anything, so it decided to leave after a while.

We crossed a large river that apparently marked the border between Camp and the outside world, and acted as our last defense. The Little Tiber, named after it's greater cousin in Rome. At least, that's what Anahita told me. Because what was just ahead of the river seemed to disagree with what she had said about it acting as our last line of defense.

It was large wall that was guarded at intervals by towers lined with guards. All of them wore armor that made what the two around me were wearing look like scraps from a junkyard.

Huge walls glared down at me, layers and layers of stone that looked like it could resist even the most powerful of attacks. A huge set of double gates were the only entrance to the inside— and they were open.

The gates looked like they were a hundred years old. Dark wood, rich and thick, coated the entire lining. There was also graffiti. Things like Cohort five sux and I love you Melania! were spray painted on the walls—but a few kids who had a necklace just like Haniel's were busy at work scrubbing it away.

Maybe the necklace meant he belonged to like a spray-painter guild or something?

Ahead of me, the road turned from sandy gravel to straight up marble.

It was as white as the teeth you see in those Colgate ads. I whistled.

"Nice roads."

Haniel chuffed. "They should be. All roads lead to Rome, don't they?"

Every road was lined by trees on either side, and beyond that I could see tall buildings with whitewashed walls and metal roofs. The first two or three looked pretty good, but by the time I reached the fifth building, the walls were barely white, and the roofing was absent in a few places.

Smoke curled up out of the holes, and I could see people my age everywhere.

Demigods, I realized, as my stomach churned. Just like me.

Some of them were trying to decapitate each other with swords. Others were reading books. A couple were practicing shooting each other with fire arrows while making farting sounds with their armpits— I wasn't sure, perhaps that was a roman custom.

Most of them just stared at me as I walked past, but a few smiled at Anahita.

The road turned into a large plus at the middle of the Camp. It continued further down, past another set of gates, beyond which I could barely make out a lake and beyond that, what looked like a huge city.

"That's New Rome," Haniel pointed out. "The buildings you just saw right now were the barracks. Each cohort lives in one. The First cohort lives in the first, the second in the second, and so on."

I frowned. "Why were the first few barracks new and well kept, but the last one, uh, dirty and rundown?"

He flushed. "The barrack represents the state of the cohort. The fifth cohort isn't the…best standing cohort. It's been a while since we've done anything that would get us close to enough funds from the Senate to get a new paint job."

I imagined the Senate was a group of old people who just discussed Camp policies while trying not to fall asleep. They'd never fight, but they'd be sure to ruin the lives of those here. I mean, that was how the Government worked, right?

"To your left is the Principia, which is where the praetors live, and to your right are the baths."

I smiled as I looked around me.

Though the Camp was pretty rundown in some places, I could easily see the beauty of the Roman architecture reflected in most of it. Elaborate whorls, arches and curves adorned each building. Magnificent busts and pillars I'd only see in places like the Grand Central Station looked back at me.

Ahead of me, there were a couple of stalls. I could read signs like, ONLY TODAY! AUGUSTUS CHARIOT TIRES FOR 50% OFF! and NEW! WELL-BRED WOLVES WITH 10% LESS CHANCE OF EATING OWNER!

A lot of people moved around the stalls, and there was a constant swirl of dust clouding the view. I could hear coins being exchanged, the clink as people counted money, the crow of roosters and the howl of wolves.

Beyond that, however, was a large building held up at the entrance by two huge pillars made up of white marble. Two busts of Jupiter glared at me disdainfully as I entered the place, which was covered in purple banners with a golden laurel in the centre and the words SPQR

"What's SPQR? Are they a speaker company?"

Anahita shook her head. "SPQR stands for Senatus Populusque Romanus."

The Senate and People of Rome.

"Percy," she continued, "we're in the Principia. We're going to meet the Praetors— basically the most powerful people in Camp."

I could tell she was trying not to be nervous, but she wasn't doing a very good job.

"We don't usually get new recruits so..well, never mind. Just, well, don't talk unless you're spoken to, okay? And be careful. And above all, don't lie. Ever. The last recruit that lied—"

She shuddered.

"We'll do the talking for you. Just follow our lead."

I tried to calm my nerves as we reached a huge set of dark purple curtains that seemed to separate an inner room from the rest of the Principia. I imagined two old men there— kinda like what I imagined my high school principal to look like, only with a twin— working out some boring roman policy and eager to hand detention (or whatever form of punishment was given here) to Romans who lied. Or showed up late to their meals. Whatever.

But when the curtains were rolled back by two huge, buff dudes that looked like they could give Chris Bumstead a run for his money, I was shocked.

The inner room was far bigger and more well designed that it seemed. On the ceiling glittered a mosaic of Romulus and Remus under their adopted mama she-wolf (Lupa had told me that story a million times). The floor was polished marble. The walls were draped in velvet, so it felt like I was inside the world's most expensive camping tent.

Along the back wall stood a display of banners and wooden poles studded with bronze medals—military symbols, probably.

In the back corner, a stairwell led down. It was blocked by a row of iron bars like a prison door. I wondered what was down there—monsters? Treasure? Amnesiac demigods who had gotten on the praetors' bad side?

In the center of the room, a long wooden table was cluttered with scrolls, notebooks, tablet computers, daggers, and a large bowl filled with jelly beans.

And behind that, sitting on two chairs were the praetors.

The guy couldn't have been more than five years older than me.

He would have been good looking if he wasn't frowning all the time. His deep set eyes and military buzz-cut only added to the whole don't-mess-with-me vibe. He was just as built as the dudes outside, only, unlike them, his body was riddled with scars. His biceps itself were crossed at least three times by scars.

The girl next to him was the opposite.

She had strawberry blonde hair and brown eyes. She had a perfect smile— the type you saw on the cover of Vogue magazines. She looked like she'd just stepped out of one herself. I mean, I don't remember seeing a lot of girls—heck, the only one I remember meeting was Anahita (Lupa doesn't count), but she was really pretty.

Both the Praetors wore purple shirts and jeans, with some sort of toga around it. On them it looked regal and well-fitting, pinned with a golden medallion across their right shoulder. On me it would probably look like a poor imitation of some sort of bed sheet ghost.

The girl's shirt hung loosely on her body, like it was some sort of fashion statement. While the guy— well, his shirt looked like it would burst any moment because of the muscles underneath it.

I must have been staring though, because Scars cleared his throat, and I jumped, blushing.

"Probatios? Disturbing us?" he grouched. "For a new recruit?"

He said it like it was breaking world new, but considering that I only understood half of what he said, I didn't really understand what was going on. But that didn't mean I wasn't scared. I was.

Just a little though.

Haniel and Anahita both turned white, and I had to take a deep breath to steel myself. Because when this guy spoke, well, it was like your entire ancestral bloodline was talking to you. You just had to take everything he said seriously.

"Yes, Praetor."

Scars didn't reply. He just waited for Anahita to continue.

"We didn't follow standard protocol because, well, he claims to be a son of the Big Three."

Scars frowned.

"You came up till here based off a claim?"

He half-rose, pushing his chair chair back and leaning over the table.

I knew that look.

It was the same look Lupa had before she punished me with twenty laps around the Wolf House and then push-ups until I blacked out.

It was the now you-dunnit look.

Haniel and Anahita crept back, their faces pale.

As if on cue, I heard a creak, and two metal dogs just jumped off the back, where they had been seated on a pedestal, and walked towards us. One looked like it was made up of pure silver, and the other pure gold. They seemed to be relatively new, because there will still stickers and packaging wrapped around them. I could see stickers, like THIS SIDE UP and THIS ONE BITES still stuck on them.

They also had name tags. Argentum and Aurum.

Silver and gold.

Scars didn't do anything, but the other praetor did.

"These must have been triggered early. I told you to be careful with the dial knob, Marcus!"

"I was careful, Cassie!"

The praetors— Marcus and Cassie, apparently, had a bit of a standoff. Then Cassie rolled her eyes and walked to towards the dogs.

A part of me wanted to run after her and warn her to stay away, those dogs looked like they could kill you in a single bite.

But she simply pointed back to the pedestal.

"We don't need you two right now please. Get back, sit. There's a good doggy!"

Scars blinked.

The dogs walked back and sat down, as if they hadn't just suddenly activated and scared the living daylights out of me.

But I had a plan. Sort of.

I took the time to raise the juice straight out of the Capri-sun he was drinking and form a trident in the air with it. It was a more advanced water manipulation technique I'd learned from Lupa— and messing around on my own.

I know, I know. Anahita told me not to let anyone know about my parentage. Some end of the world thing or whatever. But I couldn't let the two of them get the flack for something that was my fault— er, my father's fault to be precise.

Marcus glared at the juice like he was angry at it, and then turned to stare at me. His stare was so unnerving that I lost control of the water, and it fell straight down.

Onto his iPad.

"Holy shi—"

"I'm sorry!"

"What the actual—"

The praetorian inner room burst into chaos. I tried to re-raise the water, but I was too freaked out to do anything. Marcus was frantically trying to clean his iPad, but there was no surface nearby that was clean.

So I took off my shirt, ran towards him and gave it.

I know.

Stupid.

But hear me out— Marcus and the praetor were in togas. Royal, praetor togas they had to take good care of. And Anahita and Haniel were in armour— not like they could help much.

Though I regretted it the moment Cassie looked at me, and flushed.

My face was heating up.

Marcus cleaned the iPad and gave me back a really red Go Eagles! shirt.

I think it was green in color, originally.

It stuck to me when I wore it again, and I could smell Capri-sun in it.

But my only thoughts were Holy shit that was embarrassing and Who the hell drinks cherry flavored Capri-sun?

"Right. So, ahem," Marcus cleared his throat. "This probatio is probably a child of N-Neptune."

It was brief, but I noticed a mild hint of hesitation when he said the name.

He turned to me.

"What's your name?"

"Percy Jackson," I replied, "uh, Sir."

Marcus scoffed.

"No need to 'Sir' me. Yet."

"Age?"

"Thirteen."

Cassie spoke up.

"You're thirteen and you survived for so long in the outside world?"

I frowned. "Uh…yeah?"

"Were you not an instant monster target? Someone with your bloodline would have definitely attracted a lot of monsters."

I gave her a dry smile.

"I've been told that I smell."

She laughed, and I blushed.

"But…well, Lupa protected me for a decent bit. But before that…I don't really know."

"Where are you from?" Marcus cut in.

"I—I don't know."

"Parents?"

"Neptune. And I, uh, don't know my mom."

"Schooling?"

"I don't know."

"Pre-school?"

"I don't know."

"State?"

"I don't know."

"Hobbies? Pets? Favorite TV show? Anything?"

I shook my head. "I really don't know."

Marcus glared at me.

"What do you mean you don't know?"

I sighed. I told them about how my memory had been stolen by something, and how Lupa had told me it was divine intervention. Cassie seemed to feel sorry for me, but Marcus just scoffed. But his face did soften slightly.

"Any recommendations?"

I frowned. "What?"

"Camp Jupiter accepts recommendations for cohort selection. Brand ambassador?"

"No?"

"Any letters at all? Supportives? Disclaimers? At least a birth certificate?"

I glared at the praetor, though I knew it wasn't his fault.

All these questions just kept bringing up the fact that I didn't know who I was or what was going on, and where my family was— if they were alive.

I was a nobody, raised by nobody, and at this point, wanted by nobody.

That hurt more than I thought it wouldn

"No, Sir."

"Well then, you'll have to enter the cohorts the old way then. That should be fun— we haven't had a good ass-kicking in years! If you make it all the way to the first," he smiled at me, slightly cruel, "I'll meet you there."

"What—?"

"DISMISSED! Probatios, make sure this demigod gets his necklace and show him around the fifth cohort; we'll initiate him today evening. Oh and," he wrinkled his nose, "get him some new clothes."

I wanted to ask him what was going on, but Anahita and Haniel just pulled me, grabbing my arms and walking me back out. Cassie just looked sadly at me— the way you'd look at a lost puppy, while Marcus chuckled.

"Son of the Neptune huh? Well— if you're half as decent as you should be, you'd make a semi-decent legionnaire some day!"

Then we were past the inner room and the curtains closed back.

"You're either really brave or really stupid," Anahita shook her head.

We'd just been to CAMP JUPITER APPAREL OFFICIAL (CAMP JUPITER BRANCH) and they'd bought me two purple shirts and three jeans. Apparently everyone in the Camp wore that, till they earned enough denarii(the currency demigods used, because the dollar was, well, not useful here apparently) to buy fancier clothes from New Rome.

Fortunately, the cash Lupa had given me had somehow transformed into denarri, and Haniel told me I had enough to throw one semi-decent party or last two weeks, whichever I preferred.

I'd changed as quickly as I could, but even then, I'd gotten quite a few stares and several Eyy fruit boy!s on the way to the shop.

Haniel and Anahita were now taking me to the fifth legion barrack.

You know, the last building— the rundown one with cracks in the walls and flaky paint.

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Are you stupid? No one pulls stunts like that in front of the praetors— and why in Fortuna's name did you think it was a good idea to pull your shirt off in the middle?"

My ears burned. I'd spent the last couple of months with wolves, and they didn't really care if I wore my shirt or not. But to be fair, wolves don't wear clothes. I'd kinda forgotten where I was, for a bit, and acted on instinct.

Yeah, I know. That's dumb.

But hey, I'm working on it.

"Well, I didn't want that praetor dude—Marvin or whatever— to shout at you guys for helping me. So I—"

She sighed, rubbing her hand over her eyes. "I get that, Percy. Thanks, it did help, even though not in the way that we liked."

"What do you mean?"

"First impressions are everything here. Especially if you aren't from an already well-established family in New Rome. Since you have no letters or recommendations or anything— well, your entire lot depends on the mercy of the praetors. So you don't want to spill Capri-sun on their prized battle plans," she replied, dryly.

"But you've got good heart," she added. "Maybe you'll be fine after all."

She ran past me towards the barracks, shouting over her shoulder that she'd set up my room before I went.

The barracks were ahead of me, and honestly, they looked like something straight from a horror movie. You know, the old 90s films where there's a murderer on the loose in some old, badly painted house?

Half the windows were cracked, and most of them just had heavily rusted panes hanging out at odd angles. The paint was flaky, and looked distinctly yellow in the regions where the underlying brickwork wasn't exposed. The air smelt damp and musty— like sweat and gym socks. And there weren't a lot of lights, but then again, they were probably off since it was midday.

I couldn't see the inside of the barracks, but I could see a long dark hallway that stretched the entire length of the building and opened on the other side, revealing the other side of the walls around the camp.

"She means well, you know," Haniel told me, "you need to be more careful about what you do.""I get it, I'm stupid," I snapped. "You don't need to keep reminding me."

I was annoyed. First of all, I tried to help them. And sure, it wasn't the best way, but I tried.

I remember my mom telling me something like, If you know that you should help, but you don't, that puts you in the wrong, and that just made me angrier. Because it was like the gods were teasing me— allowing me to remember bits and pieces but not the whole past, because I still had no idea who my mom was.

I felt a tugging sensation in my gut, and Haniel gulped.

When I looked at him, his eyes were up in the sky above.

A massive cloud had appeared over the Camp— and it had been bright and sunny just minutes ago.

"Did you just—" he gaped. "How did you—"

I got angrier— but then I remembered Lupa's training.

Don't be stupid, she would tell me, Deep breaths. Count to ten. You of all demigods cannot afford to lose your temper.

So I took deep breaths.

I counted till ten. Twice.

The red haze disappeared, though I could hear a distinct cluck of annoyance, and the clouds cleared away.

A couple of demigods in the distance were gawking at the sky, but I couldn't make out what they were saying.

"D-Did you just-"

"Yeah," I sighed. That sudden drain in power just reminded me how tired I was. And as if my body had decided to suddenly remember that I'd been running non-stop the whole day, I began to black out.

Dark spots danced around my vision, and I found it hard to walk straight.

I could just dimly make out a girl with bright yellow hair and kind eyes walk out of the barracks. Somehow, she made me feel better, like I was warm and cozy, sitting beside a fireplace.

I stumbled, and Haniel steadied me, looking confused.

The girl walked up.

"Hey! You seem a bit tired, what's wrong?"

I shook my head, trying to clear it.

"Let's try something else then. My name's Eleanor. Who are you?"

"I-" I stuttered. "I-I'm passing out."

The room I woke up in was dark and dingy— like an underground wine cellar. A single window looked outward, and the late afternoon sun made it seem obscenely bright, like a single movie screen that lit up the whole room.

Around me I could see six bunk beds. A couple of them had things on there— a Rubik's cube, a stuffed Hydra, a couple Nintendo DS stations and even a packet of the same jellybeans I saw on the Praetor's table.

"Ah. You're up."

I squinted.

Looking down at me was the girl from before— the one I saw before passing out.

"I'm Eleanor. Though I'm not sure if you remember—"

"I remember," I rasped.

Why was my throat so dry?

"Here."

Eleanor handed me a cup.

I drank whatever was in it, and suddenly felt ten times better. It tasted like— well, something familiar. I knew I'd tasted it before, but had no idea where. Or what it was I tasted.

"Percy."

"What?"

I smiled. "Before I fainted, I mean. You'd asked me what my name was. It's Percy."

She chuckled.

"Yeah. I know. Anahita and Haniel briefed us."

"Us?"

"I mean, the rest of the people they shooed out of here to get you here. You're sleeping on Caleb's bed, you know. He isn't going to like that, but eh, he'll get over it."

"Uhhh…"

Eleanor laughed. "Don't worry. We'll worry about introductions later. For now though, we need to focus on getting you into armor."

I almost choked on the liquid I was drinking.

"Armor? Why?"

"Well you're going for the cohort gladiator fight right? It's been a while since anyone came without a letter of recommendation, especially a child of the Big Three. The bets are going to be wild. You better fight well," she winked, "I bet on you making it till the Third Cohort."

"What? What fight? I don't want to fight!"

I flopped back onto the bed and screwed my eyes tight, hoping she'd disappeared and, I don't know, that I'd wake up back in the Wolf House or something.

I opened my eyes.

She was still there.

Great.

"The Gladiator fights."

Eleanor thought my looking at her was asking for an explanation. Technically it would help, but that didn't mean I was asking for one.

"All new probatios without recommendations have to fight the centurions of the cohorts to see which cohort they get into."

"What the hell is a Century? How do I fight a hundred years?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Dummy. A centurion is the leader of the cohort. Each cohort has a centurion, and once you defeat the centurion of the fifth— if you do—you'll face the centurion of the fourth, then the third, and so on. The cohort you lose at, that's where you'll be placed."

"But that's stupid!" I groaned. "These centurions are probably all going to wipe the floor with me! They're probably ten times better than me."

Eleanor nodded. "That's true. But still— it's bound to be fun to watch you getting your butt kicked. Also: at no point in the combat are you allowed to leave the Colosseum. Leaving the Colosseum means jeopardizing your chance to fight further up, and you'd be stuck at the last cohort you defeated."

"I'm fighting in a COLOSSEUM?"

"Well duh. Where else would you fight?"

"I didn't see a Colosseum on the way here."

She shook her head. "They just erected one in the field of Mars a few hours back. You'd be surprised at what a bunch of determined demigods can do. Especially when half of them are children of Vulcan who want to see a child of the Big Three getting whooped. Maybe it's just that time of the year."

Maybe if I punch you, I thought, and run away from Camp.

I sighed.

"Let's get it over with, then."

Eleanor smiled.

"That's the spirit!"

I got of the bed, and decided I would do my best. Lupa didn't raise a quitter— and I was pretty sure my mom had told me something along those lines as well too. Some time.

I walked down the barracks, determined to show that I was just as needed as anyone else in this Camp.

"Percy! Wait up!"

I turned back to see Eleanor jogging after me.

"I love your enthusiasm. But the armory's that way," she said, pointing to the direction opposite to where I was walking.

I sighed and changed directions.

A/N: Friendly reminder that I love reviews and that I can't respond to guest reviews but I do read them!