V. PERCY

Percy had met a lot of intimidating figures in his life—gods, titans, math teachers—but something about Reyna's cold, calculating stare made him want to check if his shirt was on backwards. The praetor sat perfectly straight in her imposing chair, flanked by two metal dogs that would have looked a lot scarier if Percy hadn't just lived with a pack of giant wolves the last six months.

"So. A son of Neptune," she said.

Her voice was surprising. The way she spoke reminded Percy of how the President spoke to press conferences. Or how a seasoned general would talk to his troops. But Reyna couldn't have been much older than him.

"Yes, I told you," Percy replied, trying to ignore the strange sensation that he'd met her before. Something about her face tugged at his memory. Maybe he'd seen her somewhere. A concert? A deli? A deli at a concert?

Reyna's eyes narrowed slightly. "You claim to have been sent by the gods."

"I don't claim anything," Percy said, perhaps a bit more sharply than intended. Exhaustion from the hydra fight was making his patience wear thin. "I was sent by Lupa. After six months of her trying to see if I'd make a good chew toy."

Frank made a choked sound beside him, somewhere between a gasp and a strangled laugh. The other girl— her name had something to do with a coffee flavor (Hazel? Cocoa?) looked like she was watching a tightrope walker take an especially risky step.

The metal dogs growled, their ruby eyes glowing brighter. Percy stood his ground. He didn't have time for Rome or it's politics. As low as the spark was, Percy still held on to the hope that somewhere back home, Annabeth was waiting for him. And he had to get back to her.

Reyna didn't say anything for a few seconds.

"You speak to a praetor of the Twelfth Legion," she said finally, her voice dangerously calm.

"I'm speaking to a person," he argued. "Who I'm guessing has about as many answers as I do right now, which is approximately zero."

The room went so quiet Percy could hear the mechanical joints of the metal dogs as they shifted positions. Frank looked like he was mentally calculating how quickly he could drag Percy out of the room before Reyna turned him into a kebab.

To everyone's surprise, including possibly her own, Reyna's expression softened fractionally. "You're either very brave or very foolish, Percy Jackson."

"I get that a lot," Percy admitted. "Usually it's a bit of both."

Something flickered across Reyna's face—recognition, maybe, or realization. Then it was gone, replaced by the carefully neutral expression she seemed to prefer.

"You'll need to be processed and assigned to a cohort," she said, all business again. "Normally, we would require letters of recommendation from veterans or legacy families, but given your… unusual circumstances, we'll make an exception. I'll be sending you to the Fifth— you would fit well there."

"Thanks," Percy said, unsure if that was actually a good thing or not. Judging by the oohs and Oh damn!s around the room, it seemed like sending Percy to the Fifth was some sort of sick burn.

"Frank," Reyna continued, "please show our new recruit around the camp. Hazel and I have matters to discuss."

Frank snapped to attention. "Yes, Praetor."

As they turned to leave, Reyna called out, "And Percy?"

He turned back, eyebrows raised in question.

"Try not to destroy anything on your first day," she said. It might have been a joke, but her expression remained deadly serious. Percy once again had the distinct impression she knew something about him that he didn't.

"So," Percy said as they walked across the forum, "is she always like that, or am I just special?"

Frank glanced back toward the principia, as if worried Reyna might somehow still overhear. "She's usually… intense. But that was actually pretty mild by her standards."

"Mild? She looked at me like she was mentally measuring me for a coffin."

"That's just her praetor face," Frank explained. "She's under a lot of pressure. Running the camp alone since Jason disappeared."

"Jason… the missing praetor, right?" Percy asked, trying to sort through the information he'd gathered.

Frank nodded, his expression clouding. "He vanished about six months ago. No one knows what happened to him."

Six months. The same time Percy had ended up in the Wolf House. That couldn't be a coincidence.

"And if he doesn't come back soon, they'll have to replace him?" Percy guessed.

"That's the rule. A legion needs two praetors." Frank led him past a series of temples, each of them made of different materials dedicated to different gods. "This is Temple Hill. All the major gods have shrines here."

Percy's eyes landed on a small, dusty structure set apart from the others. He felt a queasy sensation on his gut, like that time he ate a packet of expired Cheetos. "Neptune's?"

Frank winced. "Not exactly the most popular god around here. Romans associate him with storms and disasters more than anything else."

"So that's what they'll associate me with too?"

"Now you're getting it."

As they continued the tour, Percy found himself impressed despite his reservations. Camp Jupiter was massive—more like a small city than a training camp. The bathhouse alone was the size of Camp Half-Blood's dining pavilion, and the coliseum looked like it could host monster truck rallies. He tried not to let his mind wander too much, because as much as he enjoyed the place, Percy also felt a small sense of urgency in the back of his head. Like a countdown in his mind.

He had to go back.

"So the cohorts," Percy said as they walked toward what Frank called the barracks. "They're like… teams?"

"More like military units," Frank explained. "There are five, ranked from the First Cohort—the most prestigious—to the Fifth, which is…uh…"

"The losers' club?"

Frank winced. "We're not supposed to look at it that way, but yeah, pretty much. I'm in the Fifth."

"Sounds perfect," Percy decided. "No wonder Reyna wanted me to join that one."

Frank looked startled. "Don't you want to at least consider the others? They would make an exception for you, considering your parentage. The First Cohort gets the best equipment, the best duties—"

"And probably the biggest egos," Percy finished. "No thanks."

A slow smile spread across Frank's face. "Alright then."

By mid-afternoon, Percy had been officially enrolled in the Fifth Cohort, been issued standard legion equipment (which felt awkward), and learned more Latin phrases (which was even more awkward). The only familiar part was the odd sensation that everyone was watching him—a feeling he'd grown accustomed to at Camp Half-Blood.

"Is there somewhere I can make a call?" he asked Frank as they finished the tour. "I should probably let my mom know I'm still alive."

Frank looked puzzled. "Call? We don't really do phones here. Attracts monsters."

"I'm not talking about phones," Percy said. "More like… an IM."

"Instant messaging?"

"Iris-messaging," Percy corrected. "I need water, light for a rainbow, and a golden drachma. Or something like that. Do you have any spare change?"

Frank looked at him like he had a heat stroke but led him to the baths, which were fortunately rather empty. He fished out a few coins from his pocket, looking more confused than usual, and handed them to Percy. "Will this work?"

The steam rising from the heated pools created perfect conditions for rainbows where the afternoon sunlight streamed through high windows.

"Perfect. Thanks, man. Could you, uh…"

"Give you some privacy?" Frank nodded. "Um, sure. I'll be outside."

He definitely thinks I've lost it, Percy thought.

Once alone, Percy tossed the coins into a rainbow formed by the mist. "O Iris, goddess of the rainbow, show me Sally Jackson in New York."

The mist shimmered, and for a heart-stopping moment, Percy thought it wasn't going to work. Maybe the coins were the wrong currency. Maybe the Camp was outside of Iris' domain.

But then the rainbow coalesced into an image of a woman with warm eyes and graying brown hair, sitting at a kitchen table writing something.

"Mom," Percy said, his voice catching.

Sally Jackson's head snapped up, her eyes widening. "Percy! Oh, thank the gods. Where are you? Are you safe? Grover had come and told me about—"

The relief in her voice made his chest ache. "I'm okay. I'm at… a new camp. For demigods. It's called Camp Jupiter."

His mother's brow furrowed. "Jupiter? But that's—"

"Roman, yeah. Apparently there's a whole other camp for Roman demigods. Who knew?" He tried to keep his tone light, but she saw right through him.

"Are you alright?" Sally asked gently.

Percy nodded. "Yeah. It's just…yeah. I'm getting used to it. I lived in a forest for the past few months, so I didn't really have any money to call you with."

They talked for a few more minutes, Sally filling him in on her life (apparently she'd published a novel, which Percy was super proud of), and Percy carefully editing his adventures to minimize the near-death experiences. The only thing that could make things worse was if his mom grounded him. In Camp Jupiter. Not like he was going to listen, but that wasn't the point.

"I love you, Percy," she said as the mist began to fade. "Whatever's happening, whatever quest you're on, I believe in you."

"Love you too, Mom," he managed before the connection dissolved.

Percy stood there for a moment, feeling both comforted and hollowed out by the conversation. There was something grounding about talking to his mom, a reminder that he had a life and identity beyond this strange limbo he now occupied.

A part of him wondered if it would be so bad if he just left everything and headed back home. He knew the way now, and it was pretty much given that a lot of people in Camp Jupiter would be relieved to see him leave.

He had enough coins for one more call. After a moment's deliberation, he tossed another denarius into a fresh rainbow.

"O Iris, goddess of the rainbow, show me Grover Underwood."

The mist swirled, and then revealed a satyr sleeping against a tree in a forest glade. A set of reed pipes lay across his lap, and he was snoring gently, a few blades of grass fluttering near his mouth with each breath.

"Grover!" Percy called.

The satyr jerked awake, nearly dropping his pipes. "Wha—? Percy? PERCY!"

"Hey, G-man," Percy said, smiling at his friend's reaction. "Long time no see."

"ARE YOU KIDDING!" Grover practically fell over himself running up to the call. "Annabeth told us about the quest, but we had no clue where you were. I was so worried!"

"It's a long story," Percy said, feeling a pang of guilt. "I'm at a place called Camp Jupiter. It's like Camp Half-Blood, but for Roman demigods."

Grover's eyes widened. He blinked. Then— "So you know about the Romans then."

It was Percy's turn to be amazed.

"Wait— G-man—you KNEW about the Romans?"

Grover nodded. "Well, duh. We're not demigods. And we often have, uh, cross-sectoral missions. If you get what I mean."

"Well, someone forgot to tell me that," Percy said dryly. "Listen, how's everyone at camp? How's Annabeth?"

A shadow passed over Grover's face. "Annabeth's… she's in Olympus most of the time now. Working on the reconstruction. We don't talk much these days."

"But she's okay?" Percy pressed.

"She's sad, Percy," Grover said simply. "She made her choice, and now she's living with it."

Percy frowned. He wasn't sure what his friend meant by that. "Her choice to work for her mother? To take the oath?"

Grover nodded. "Yeah, she's Athena's architect now. Officially. Took the oath of maidenhood and everything."

Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Percy suddenly found it difficult to breath. The old wounds he'd ignored until now flared back up, like a fountain of pain.

"Grover—" Percy tried to keep his voice from trembling. "You mean she actually—?"

The satyr on the other end sighed. "I'm sorry, Percy. I thought you knew. Yeah. Annabeth's taken the oath."

A leaden weight settled in Percy's stomach. He collapsed on the side of the baths, his feet slipping into a nearby pool.

So Annabeth had gone through with it. Even after everything they'd been through together, she'd chosen a different path.

Suddenly, he didn't feel like hurrying back anymore.

"Both of you had your fatal flaws," Grover continued gently. "It's just that nobody expected it to happen this way."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, everyone always thought your fatal flaw—personal loyalty—would be your downfall. And Annabeth's hubris, her pride, was supposed to be hers. But in the end…"

"In the end, she chose pride, and I let her go," Percy finished quietly.

Grover nodded sadly. "I'm sorry, Percy. I know how much she meant to you."

The mist began to flicker. Percy had run out of change, and he didn't want to ask Frank for a lot more just then.

"I'll find a way back," Percy promised. "As soon as I figure out why I'm here."

"Be careful," Grover warned, his image already fading. "If the camps are mixing, something big is happening. The gods wouldn't allow it otherwise."

The rainbow dissipated, leaving Percy alone with his thoughts and the rising steam of the baths.

By evening, Percy had gone through the formal enrollment ceremony (which involved a lot more burning of probatio tablets and chanting in Latin), endured a dinner where everyone stared at him like he was either going to perform tricks or explode, and been assigned a bunk in the Fifth Cohort barracks, which smelled of sweat, polish, and DIOR Sauvage.

Frank had been really helpful throughout, explaining customs, translating terms, and generally running interference whenever Percy said something that made the Romans look at him like he'd grown a second head. He hadn't seen Reyna, Hazel or Gwendolyn since.

"You're free until morning muster," Frank told him as they finished dinner in the mess hall. "Most people use the time to train, study, or hang out in New Rome."

Percy didn't really want to train. He definitely wasn't going to study. And he didn't have anyone to hang out with. "I think I'm going to take a walk," he decided. "Clear my head."

Frank looked concerned. "Want company?"

"Thanks, but I need some time to process… everything." Percy managed a smile. "Don't worry, I'll try not to get eaten by any more hydras."

Frank gave him some directions. Percy forgot most of them, so instead chose to just keep walking forward until he found something interesting. He just needed to clear his head. Really.

Up until now, Percy always had a goal in the back of his mind. Finishing the quest he was sent here for, and returning to Annabeth. But now, Percy thought, I'm just going to focus on the quest. There was no point thinking about going back to Camp Half-Blood. At least, not immediately.

The Field of Mars stretched ahead as the sun began to set. Despite its name, the field was mostly empty now, with only a few scattered figures training at its edges. Percy walked aimlessly, letting his feet carry him where they would while his mind churned.

He was so lost in thought that he almost didn't notice the lone figure practicing sword forms near the far edge of the field.

Percy paused to watch, recognizing quality swordsmanship when he saw it. He allowed his mind to stop thinking about what Grover had just told him, and instead just watched the figure. The swordsman—tall and lean, with wavy dark hair—executed a bunch of complex strikes against an imaginary opponent, ending in a perfect disarming maneuver that Percy himself had used many times.

"Nice technique," Percy called out, approaching as the swordsman paused to catch his breath.

The young man turned, surprise evident on his face. "Thanks. Not many people come out here this time of day."

Percy extended his hand. "Percy Jackson. New guy."

"Cassius Hardy, Second Cohort," the other replied, shaking Percy's hand with a firm grip. "You're the son of Neptune everyone's talking about."

"News travels fast," Percy observed.

Cassius smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "It's a small camp, and new arrivals are rare. Especially kids of the Big Three."

There was something about Cassius that struck Percy as familiar, even though he was certain they'd never met. Maybe it was the way he held himself. Or maybe it was his weapon— it glowed bronze, just like Riptide.

"Up for a friendly spar?" Cassius asked, hefting his sword. "I could use a new opponent."

Percy uncapped Riptide, the sword expanding to its full length in his hand. "Sure, why not?"

Cassius's eyes widened at the sight of the weapon. "That's not imperial gold."

"Celestial bronze," Percy confirmed. "Like yours, I'm guessing."

"Interesting," Cassius murmured. "I haven't seen many celestial bronze weapons here. Mine is one of the few." He raised his own sword. "Gift from my parent," he explained with a casual shrug that seemed slightly forced.

Percy didn't press. Instead, he took a breath, took a step back, and fell into a defensive stance."Ready when you are."

Cassius mirrored him, raising his sword slightly above Percy's and adopting a similar pose.

"I'm ready."

Percy circled warily, testing the other demigod's defenses with light probing strikes. He quickly realized that Cassius was indeed as good as his warm-up had suggested. It wasn't going to be an easy spar.

Thrust. Parry. Jab. Retreat.

The casual spar soon evolved into something more serious. Cassius fought methodically. It reminded Percy a lot of the way Luke used to fight, just a lot more polished. It was like fighting a chess player who could calculate ten moves ahead. But Cassius was predictable, sort of. Luke wasn't— and that was what had made him dangerous.

But, Percy thought. Neither am I.

Cassius was good, he had to admit. They were evenly matched for several minutes. Percy found himself smiling despite his exhaustion; there was something exhilarating about facing a good opponent with no real stakes.

Cassius executed a brilliant feint that should have opened Percy's left flank to attack, but Percy's instincts screamed a warning. Instead of parrying as he probably expected, he chose to drop into a crouch, sweeping the leg. Caught by surprise, Cassius stumbled, and Percy pressed the advantage, twisting his sword in the disarming maneuver he'd seen Cassius himself use seconds earlier.

ZHING!

His blade clattered to the ground, and Percy's sword tip hovered an inch from his chest.

"I yield," Cassius said, breathing hard but with grudging respect in his eyes. "That wasn't a Roman technique."

Percy lowered Riptide. "Guess I'm not a very good Roman."

"Maybe not," Cassius agreed, retrieving his sword. "But you're an excellent swordsman."

Percy joined the older Roman as he walked to the edge of the field, where a cooler full of Gatorade had been left for the training legionnaires. Cassius tossed one to Percy, who caught it gratefully.

As they sat on a low stone wall watching the sunset, an elephant named Hannibal walking around Camp and the occasional Pegasus, Percy found himself strangely comfortable in Cassius's company. There was none of the awkwardness he'd felt with most of the other Romans, who treated him either like the next Michael Jordan or a bomb about to explode.

"So," Percy said after a long swig of blue Gatorade, "I'm guessing from your fighting style that your godly parent is Mars?"

A dark look flickered across Cassius's face, there and gone so quickly Percy might have imagined it. "Janus, actually. God of doorways, choices, transitions."

Percy frowned. He'd never met a child of Janus before, but something didn't add up. "Ah. I'm guessing not all kids of Janus fight as good as you then?"

"We all contain multitudes," Cassius replied with a cryptic smile. "Not everyone fits neatly into their divine parentage."

Percy couldn't argue with that. If his own experiences had taught him anything, it was that gods were complicated, and their children even more so.

"What about you?" Cassius asked, changing the subject. "Rumor has it you arrived late. How did you survive so far? Just woke up one day a son of Neptune?"

"That's the short version," Percy admitted. "Six months with Lupa, then here. Everything before that is… patches of fog with occasional clarity. I think I was under some divine protection or something. I don't remember." He didn't really want to lie, but Percy wasn't sure yet who he could trust in the Camp and who he couldn't. It was better to play it safe.

"Must be frustrating."

"You have no idea," Percy sighed, hoping he sounded convincing.

Cassius studied him thoughtfully. "You ever dated anyone? Before all this memory loss business?"

Wait. What?

The question caught Percy off guard. "I… uh, not officially, I don't think. There was a girl. Annabeth. We were close, but…" He shrugged, trying to ignore the hollow feeling in his chest. "She chose a different path. That didn't involve me, apparently."

"Harsh," Cassius said. He actually sounded sympathetic.

"What about you?" Percy asked, partly out of curiosity and partly to shift the focus from himself. "You ever been with anyone that way?"

Cassius's face flushed slightly, and he became suddenly interested in the label of his Gatorade bottle. "No. Not really."

Well obviously denying it like that was pretty much the same as screaming a HELL YEAH, but Percy didn't press. Everyone had their secrets—he had enough of his own. Instead, he gestured toward the few scattered figures still training at the far edges of the field. "What's up with them? Why train so late when everyone else is chilling?"

Cassius's expression softened as he looked at the distant demigods. "They're the ones who don't fit in. The ones who get laughed at during regular drills. Rome only respects power, and these are the ones who haven't earned that respect yet."

There was a personal note in his voice that made Percy look at him more closely. "You used to be one of them?"

Cassius nodded slowly. "Second Cohort centurion now, but it wasn't always that way. I was the joke of the legion when I first arrived. Couldn't hold a sword properly, couldn't keep up on runs, couldn't recite the legion's history without stuttering."

"But now you're one of the best swordsmen in camp," Percy pointed out.

"I had help. A…friend who saw potential where others saw failure." Cassius's gaze grew distant, as if looking into the past. "Now I come here most evenings, pass on what I learned. Everyone deserves a chance to prove themselves. She taught me that."

Percy looked back at the struggling legionnaires. He knew what it felt like. It was a fundamental part about what it meant to be a half-blood in the first place—the constant battle to find your place in a world that often seemed designed to exclude you.

"Mind if I join you sometime?" Percy asked. "I'm pretty good with a sword, and I've got time to kill."

Cassius looked up, surprised, then pleased. "They'd like that. A son of Neptune taking an interest in their training would mean a lot."

They didn't talk after that, but Percy didn't mind. As the last light began to fade from the sky, he felt something he hadn't experienced since arriving at Camp Jupiter—a sense of purpose. He still had no idea exactly why he'd been sent here, or what quest awaited him. But helping those the legion had overlooked felt right.

Besides, he no longer had any real reason to hurry back. Mom was doing great, maybe even better than usual because she didn't have to worry about him everyday. Grover and Tyson were alright. And Annabeth…had made her decision.

Everyone back at home was fine. It was just Percy, as usual, working on finding out where he fit.

As stars began to appear in the darkening sky above the Field of Mars, Percy wondered if he'd ever be able to find an answer to that at all.