Chapter Text
Jason stands outside the very large gate and wonders if anyone would notice if he turned around and left.
The big wooden doors creak open, and he misses his chance to disappear.
A very tall, older boy hangs out the door and stares at him. His eyes are huge, and his mouth has dropped open. He’s wearing the purple tee-shirt of Camp Jupiter and has dull silver armour strapped over it, a golden gladius in his hand.
“Kid? How’d you get here?”
Jason tilts his head, “Lupa brought me.”
The boy chokes, “That wolf- That was Lupa?”
“Yes?”
“And she brought us a little kid?”
Jason is feeling more and more confused. Lupa said there would be a party today.
He asks hesitantly, “Today is Epulum Jovis?”
“The Feast of Jupiter? Huh. We don’t really do that sort of thing anymore. Bit too Greek.”
It’s getting very awkward to stand here with the older boy hanging out of the open gate. It really doesn’t help that the other boy must be nearly two feet taller than Jason is.
“Lupa says today is an important day for my father and for the Romans. She said it was an-” Jason hesitates and carefully sounds the word out, “Au-spic-ious day for me to join the Twelfth Legion.”
The boy blinks at him and his voice is full of scorn, “Kids start at twelve. No way you’re twelve. You look like you’re five.”
“I’m seven!” Jason sort of yells, very angry all of a sudden. Seven-year-olds are shorter than teenagers, but he’s not that small! Lupa says he’s tall for his age! He came here to join the legion, so why is he saying no?
He hears voices, and now someone stands inside the open gate. A woman this time, in golden armour with a purple cloak. Her light brown hair is pulled back tightly, and she holds herself stiffly.
Oh! She must be a praetor. That purple cape thing is a paludamentum. Lupa said that inside Rome, only the legati, the generals, wore a paludamentum normally. The praetors wore it only when away from Rome. Aren’t they in Rome right now?
Lupa told him that in New Rome and the Twelfth Legion, praetors were the only ones who wore a cloak as standard. Lupa always got a bit weird when she talked about the ranks in the Twelfth Legion. Jason’s assuming it’s because wolves use different ranks. At Camp Jupiter, the praetors have the highest rank. There are two of them, and they lead the legion.
This woman scans him from head to toe. It makes him realise how he looks, and all the anger goes away. Compared to them, he really mustn’t look like much. He washed carefully this morning, but Wolf House doesn’t really have running water on tap, and his hair is so pale blonde that it always shows dirt.
Jason’s fairly sure that Lupa and her pack stole the clothes he’s wearing from mortal stores. Lupa often complains about his ‘need for detachable fur’. The blue tee-shirt fits all right, but it has a strange pill-shaped yellow cartoon character on it. With only one eye and wearing blue overalls. Jason calls it a baby yellow cyclops. It’s got a big hole near the bottom from one of Lupa’s pack scratching him a few months back.
His jeans are too large, so he’s using a rope as a belt. It works, but it looks messy. Not the Roman way. The lady’s eyes burn into him, and he can feel his face flushing. He keeps his back straight and his eyes forward. Strength is important. Never show weakness.
“What’s your name, kid?”
Jason startles slightly. Oh. Oops?
He straightens up, making himself as tall as he can and pulling his shoulders back. Jason clears his throat and speaks as loudly as he can, “Praetor, I am Jason, son of Jupiter. I have come to join the Twelfth Legion.”
Jason watches as she flinches back from him, her brown eyes going huge.
He notices something else too. Jason’s sure Lupa said the camp was inland, but the air suddenly smells like the ocean, thick and heavy. He glances up, but there’s no storm above them. It just feels like there is?
He’s distracted by the Praetor’s sharp question, “Jupiter? You’re a son of Jupiter?”
He nods firmly, “Yes. Lupa told me my father was Jupiter Tonans. I don’t know who my mother is.”
He crosses his fingers behind him as he speaks.
She steps forward, something passing over her face that he can’t understand.
“Jason, how long have you been with Lupa?”
He hesitates, “I’m not sure, Praetor. Lupa says Juno Lucina brought me to her on Matronalia. When I was two.”
She moves closer to him and goes down on one knee, so she’s the same height as him.
Her voice gentles, “How old are you now, Jason?”
Why is she acting like this? Did he do something wrong?
“I turned seven on the sacred day of Juno Felicitas, Praetor.”
She purses her lips, and her eyes are confused.
Jason knew this was a bad idea. But Lupa insisted he spend time ‘with his own pack’. Something about how pups learn best by spending time among the older wolves, and because Jason is a demigod, he needs to be among demigods.
The praetor stands and offers him her hand, “I’m Sarah Warden. It’s very good to meet you, Jason. Why don’t you come inside?”
He eyes her hand, but carefully grasps it after a moment. It would not do to disobey his new praetor on the first day. Even if it makes him feel like a child. He’s not meant to show weakness. Lupa drilled it into him.
As they walk inside, the praetor turns her head towards one of the gathered legionnaires, “Centurion Doug, get me exact dates. Ask the augur if you have to.”
The centurion barks, “Yes, sir!” and turns and hurries off. Jason frowns after him. Praetor Warden is a girl. Lupa said girls were to be called ‘Ma’am’?
He walks with the praetor down a wide paved road towards the Principia. It’s pretty? Maybe? Lots of shiny white marble. Which is a little bit strange. Lupa said they built army encampments like Camp Jupiter for quick takedown and rebuilding. But the Principia is a proper building made of gleaming white marble.
There are four guards standing at attention outside the door of the Principia. All dressed in a mix of gold and dull silver armour. So far, the praetor is the only one he’s seen with a matched set of golden armour. A huge purple banner hangs down over the doorway of the Principia with a golden ‘SPQR’ inside a laurel wreath.
He hesitates. Praetor Warden looks down at him, “You okay, kid?”
Lupa doesn’t like him hesitating around strangers. It’s a weakness. It’s okay in the den where it’s safe, but he must not let people know his weaknesses unless he trusts them.
He asks carefully, “I thought the emblem of the Twelfth Legion was a thunderbolt? Why use the old symbol of the republic?”
She gives him a strange look, “It’s the symbol of Rome. It’s used on government buildings. It means ‘the Senate and People of Rome’.”
Jason keeps his face blank. He knows this. Or he sort of does. The Roman Empire followed the Republic of Rome. The best-known bits of Ancient Rome come from the Roman Kingdom, which was before it was a republic, or the Roman Empire. Why would they use the republic’s symbol?
An eagle would make a lot more sense.
He also doesn’t understand why they have that on the banner and not the lightning bolt. He likes the idea of joining a legion that is so connected to his father. Ever since Lupa told him that he would join the legion after he turned seven, he’s been trying to memorise everything she tells him about the legion and the history of Rome.
Praetor Warden turns off before the Principia and leads him towards the more normal wooden buildings and into a mess hall. Which… Jason isn’t sure what he was expecting, but the long low couches weren’t it. He didn’t see other people much; he’s been with Lupa and her pack, but she spent a lot of time explaining the mortal world to him. She did say she hadn’t been to Camp Jupiter since they arrived in San Francisco? Maybe things have changed?
Praetor Warden gestures to a couch and tells him to sit down. He sits on the low couch, keeping his back stiff and his hands in his lap. These look like the sort of seats where you’re meant to lie down, which seems an uncomfortable way of eating. Isn’t this the mess hall for the legion? Jason doesn’t feel like lying down either.
It also seems very empty. Lupa said today was a big feast day and celebration of his father. There’s no sign of it in the encampment. Maybe they do that sort of thing in that group of buildings that sits further into the valley? Or in the New Rome city, wherever that is?
Praetor Warden sits across from him and starts to speak, but the centurion from earlier comes in. Breathing hard.
“Hey, Sarah. I ran into Quintus on the road. He says Matronalia is on the first of March. Juno Felicitas’s sacred day is on the first of July.”
Praetor Warden turns back to Jason, “So if you’re seven now, that means you were born in 2010 on the first of July?”
Jason stares at her, confused, “I guess? Lupa wasn’t really big on modern calendars. I know Epulum Jovis is the thirteenth of September, but not the others.”
The centurion asks, “Do you know what your full name is? Or who your mother is?”
“I’m Jason, son of Jupiter Tonans.”
Praetor Warden asks softly, “Jason, do you remember your mortal mother?”
He silently shakes his head and looks away.
The centurion comes to sit beside Praetor Warden, not even asking permission. He looks like he might be older than she is. Curly dark brown hair, his skin is a lot darker than Jason’s, and he has greenish brown eyes. He looks like he belongs in the woods around Wolf House, not at a military camp.
“Kid, I was on one of the watchtowers when you showed up. One moment there was nothing, and the next minute you were standing there beside a honking great wolf.”
“Yes, Lupa.”
The praetor’s voice is careful, “This is the same Lupa that raised Romulus and Remus?”
Lupa loves telling stories about ‘her boys’. She talks about Romulus most of all. Jason’s yet to hear her tell a story of Remus that happened after Numitor retook the throne of Alba. Jason has this feeling that Remus was killed during the fighting, because Romulus’s is the only name she says when she talks about the founding of Rome.
“Yes? Juno gave me to her. She was to train me until I was old enough to join the legion. She said we needed to wait for an important day, but I needed to be with my own pack.”
“Just to get this straight, you’ve been living with a giant wolf goddess since you were two?”
He really wishes they wouldn’t keep pointing out Lupa’s size. He knows he looks ridiculous standing beside her. She’s nearly twice as tall at the shoulder as he is. But he’s not that short! Lupa’s just huge. She said he needs to be strong and he must accept her leaving him, but he’s going to miss her so much.
He widens his eyes before they water and sits straighter. He keeps his hands still and calm.
“Yes, Lupa has been training me since I was two.”
“And Juno was the one who brought you to her?”
Why do they keep asking him to repeat himself?
“Yes, I’m Juno’s champion.”
Both of them flinch. Jason’s really making a wonderful first impression, isn’t he?
The centurion’s voice is cautious, “You’ve met Juno?”
Jason hesitates, and he can almost hear Lupa’s voice telling him that hesitation in public will get him killed. There is no place for weakness in Rome. Jason is not a member of Lupa’s pack. He needs to learn to stand with his own pack, and they will not be kind if they think him weak.
“I don’t remember her, but I must have met her when she brought me to Lupa. She left this with Lupa as well. Lupa gave it to me this morning.”
He pulls out the golden Roman aureus coin. One side has a man’s head stamped on it. He’s wearing a laurel crown. Around the edge of the coin are the words ‘DIOCLETIANUS P F AUG’. Lupa told him it meant ‘Diocletian the Pious and Fortunate Augustus’. He was an emperor of Rome. The other side shows a man holding a thunderbolt and says ‘JOVI CONSERVATORI’. ‘Jupiter the Protector’.
Praetor Warden looks at it, a little confused.
Jason gives her a small smile and carefully flips the coin in the air. Lupa only gave it to him right before they left for the camp, so he really doesn’t want to fumble and look even dumber.
He catches the coin as it falls, and it expands out until he’s holding a gladius. Solid imperial gold, with a double edge and a ridged grip. Lupa told him the sword would grow with him. Right now, from tip to pommel, it’s two feet long and definitely deadly.
Jason takes a moment to smile at the golden, razor-sharp edge. It really is a very nice weapon. Lupa’d mentioned before today that she had a sword waiting for him, but she’d been having him use a wooden training gladius when he trained. He’d barely had a chance to do much with his new gift.
The centurion and praetor flinch back as the sword expands, both looking stunned. Jason’s very glad he got the flip right. He’s not so sure it’ll impress them if it had extended into the hasta spear. Even adjusted to his size, that’s still a six foot long weapon he has very little experience with.
Wolves don’t have thumbs and aren’t so interested in training with weapons over other forms of fighting. Lupa only focused on him knowing the basics of the gladius because she knew he’d need it when he joined the Twelfth Legion. She talked a lot about how she wished Jason could grow proper claws and teeth, but a sword would have to do.
“Well, I believe that, between you teleporting into camp with a giant wolf and your magic sword, we have more than enough proof you are who you say you are.”
They wanted proof? Why didn’t they say so?
“I have a letter of reference as well?” He pulls it from his pocket and offers it to the praetor.
It’s a carefully folded piece of paper that looks nothing like modern paper. Parchment maybe? The ink glows golden.
Jason’s not sure what it says. He finds reading hard, and it takes ages. Lupa says demigods often struggle with reading and sitting still, and it’s important he learn discipline so he can fit in with his own pack.
Lupa also says, ‘Wolves would never be so uncivilised as to punish a pup for being playful’. When Jason asks her if she doesn’t like the Romans, she always tells him it’s because they aren’t wolves, but Jason doesn’t count because he’s a wolf at heart.
Either way, reading still takes too long, and she only gave him the letter right before he came here; so there wasn’t time to get some privacy to work out what it says.
The praetor and centurion lean into each other and read the letter. They don’t seem to have nearly as much difficulty as Jason does. He had no idea there were so many different levels of surprise. Jason’s finding all of this exhausting. He already misses Lupa.
The praetor recovers first, “Well, if I had any doubts, they’re gone now. You are to join the legion. You’ll have your choice of cohorts.”
The centurion gives him a kind smile, “It might be a bit of a steep learning curve for all of us. The youngest kids we take are still at least ten. I’d kind of thought we could set you up with one of our families in the city, but this says Lupa wants you in the legion, and she’s a goddess after all. I’m sure we can make things work.”
Praetor Warden looks down at the letter again, “I need to take this to the city. Basil’s with the City Senate today. I’ll inform them of the new developments. Doug, would you mind giving Jason a tour?”
She leaves quickly, her purple cloak rippling behind her. Which is another thing Jason is a bit confused by. Doug isn’t dressed like a centurion or a legionnaire. He’s wearing a purple shirt and blue jeans like a normal mortal. Lupa talked a lot about the different clothing, but so far, the praetors are the only ones wearing what she described. Lupa definitely needs to spend more time around people; she got everything wrong.
He’s going to have to learn it all over again, isn’t he?
Great. More boring lessons.
The centurion gives him a cheerful smile and says he’s Centurion Doug Butcher of the Fifth Cohort. Doug’s turning sixteen in a couple of months. He firmly tells Jason to call him Doug and not ‘Centurion Butcher’. Jason is about to argue when he realises what a terrible title Centurion Butcher is. Okay. Doug. He can do that.
“So, you’re a demigod too?”
Doug’s face goes through a few more strange changes. Has Jason somehow upset him?
“Ah, no. Sarah, the praetor, is a daughter of Concordia. But demigods aren’t all that common. We get one or two a year usually. Most of us are legacies, which means one of our ancestors was a demigod.”
Oh, Lupa had said something about legacies.
“So, which god are you related to?”
“You’re very straightforward, aren’t you?”
Jason has no idea what to say to that.
Doug grins again, “Yeah, sorry. I have that issue myself. I’m a legacy of Feronia.”
Goddess of the wild places and freedmen. Lupa liked Feronia.
“She’s one of Lupa’s favourites! She calls her the Lady of the Wild and Free.”
Doug tilts his head, “Huh, that’s a new one. She’s not so popular around here, a bit too feral.”
Doug grins, like he’s making a joke. Jason doesn’t get it, but he smiles back anyway. Doug flinches back, and Jason is even more confused, but Doug shrugs him off when he tries to ask what’s wrong.
Doug leads him out of the mess hall and shows him around the camp. It’s smaller than Jason thought it would be.
Doug tells him they have around two hundred legionnaires at any given time. They’re expected to serve for five years. Doug shows Jason his tattoo as he talks. A liberty crown with three long stripes beneath it and the letters ‘SPQR’. Lupa never mentioned tattoos. It looks burned. Why would they tattoo the legionnaires? Were they worried about desertion?
And why SPQR? Do the legionnaires belong to the Senate and the People of Rome?
Doug says most legionnaires join at twelve and leave after they turn seventeen. Some stay longer, since the senator positions require four years of service, but no-one stays more than ten years. He hesitates and adds that they’ll probably make an exception for him, so he can stay in the legion until he’s the same age as the others who retire.
“Do they move to the city after?”
“Some do. Some return to the mortal world. It really depends.” There’s something strange about Doug’s answer. Like he’s trying to give a kid-friendly version of something bad.
Doug quickly changes the topic and starts pointing out the different barracks. Each cohort has four barracks assigned to it. A barracks seems to be both the physical place and what they call each group of ten. Jason reminds himself he needs to call them barracks and not a contubernium. Maybe it’s because barracks is easier to say? He really can’t see why some things have Latin names and some have English.
The Fifth Cohort’s Barracks are near the back wall. There’s a latrine and a bathhouse nearby. Like, a real life Roman bathhouse with a heated plunge pool type thing. Not just normal mortal showers and bathtubs. Doug assures him they have all of that too. Which makes the bathhouse even stranger. It’s like the marble Principia; it shouldn’t be in an encampment.
There’s also a stable housing five unicorns but no horses. The unicorns are strange, but he’s more confused by the lack of horses.
“Where does the cavalry live?”
Doug gives him another strange look, “We don’t have a cavalry. Romans fight on foot.” The way he says ‘cavalry’ makes it sound like a curse word.
Lupa told Jason that Romulus started the Roman cavalry and by the time of the Republic it was the most impressive unit of the Roman army. She said Jason would do well in the cavalry. Wow, she got everything wrong. Time to stop asking questions before he makes himself look even dumber. So he won’t ask why the symbol of the Fifth Cohort is a dormouse. Or why the Third Cohort’s is a horse if they don’t like the cavalry.
He also hasn’t seen any signs of archers. Even with all the people around.
The camp is surprisingly busy now Jason’s looking around it properly. There are pairs of guards in each of the four watchtowers that sit in the corners of the encampment. Additional guards outside the Principia and armoury. Outside the wooden wall of spikes, Jason catches glimpses of more guards standing at each of the four gates.
That is a lot of guards.
“Are we under attack?”
He winces when Doug wheels to stare at him, “No? Why would you think that?”
He needs to work on keeping his mouth shut. Right after he explains himself.
“There are a lot of guards, I thought something must have happened.”
“Oh, no. We keep the camp guarded 24/7. It’s rare for monsters to attack, but not unheard of. The city has Terminus to guard it, but we look after ourselves. Don’t worry, Jason. You’re safe inside the camp, I promise.”
Doug goes all earnest at the end of that. Jason’s really not sure why. He’s not going to ask. He needs to be strong and not show weakness. It’s not Roman to be weak. He’s pretty sure that’s why Remus died. Lupa was super intense with the not showing weakness thing. She kept telling him it was fine while he was with her pack, but ‘mortals are different; they will see a weakness and hunt you down.’ So he’s assuming it’s something to do with Remus.
Jason gives Doug a firm nod and goes back to looking around the camp.
Not everyone is standing guard. There seems to be a lot of older kids racing around; they are all very focused on cleaning pieces of armour, or halfway strapped into it. In between the kids are strange shimmery purple ghosts. Lupa mentioned something about this. The household spirits Romans would pray to, but she said they were more likely to be visible in places where the gods’ magic lingers. So, that means these are lares? Everyone is very calm about having so many dead spirits drifting around.
He can see a ghostly version of Lupercus standing outside the stable. He glows red instead of purple and has a wolf’s head in place of a human one. From the way people walk through him, Jason’s thinking most people can’t see him. From memory, Lupercus is like Lupa; he’s a god directly connected to Rome, but without the power of the proper gods. Lupercus is a protector of shepherds and their flocks, so maybe he was invoked to watch the unicorns?
Jason eyes the kids strapping armour on. If they aren’t under attack, why is the entire legion getting ready? He’s learned his lesson, so he won’t ask.
He’d still like to know.
Praetor Warden returns a little while later with another boy dressed like she is. Most of the legion is now dressed in armour, and they are organising themselves along either side of the main road. Doug calls it the Via Praetoria. Which matches what Lupa told him. For once.
The Praetor walks straight towards where Jason is standing with Doug.
“Jason! I’ve just been speaking with the City Senate and Consul Septimus. I also spoke with our augur. While we wouldn’t normally accept a seven-year-old into the legion, it was agreed we must follow Lupa’s request. Especially as, according to Consul Septimus, it’s been over five hundred years since we’ve had even a legacy of Jupiter, let alone a demigod son, in the camp. We’ll give you a different schedule until you’re a bit taller and able to join in with the normal training.”
Jason was trained by a wolf twice as tall as he is. Why would his height matter?
He doesn’t ask. Look at him, already learning the way of things!
He keeps his face blank, with no trace of his wolf stare, “As you command, Praetor.”
Lupa cuffs him over the head when he gets all snotty and answers her like that; Praetor Warden smiles at him.
“We’ll also want to talk to you a bit more about Lupa. The consuls think this may be a sign that she’s willing to become more involved with the camp. Knowing where to find her will be very useful.”
Jason can’t stop his eyes widening a bit. Lupa will not like that at all. But she didn’t say he couldn’t talk about things. He’ll just feel a little guilty if they try to approach her and she eats them or something.
Horns blow behind them, and Jason jumps.
“Hey, it’s all good, Jason. It’s just the evening muster.”
Muster? When he turns to look, he gets it. All the legionnaires are forming lines, now wearing gleaming armour. Must be some sort of inspection of their equipment? All that time studying with Lupa and it’s all useless. Jason’s also beginning to think Lupa is wrong about demigods and reading, because there is a lot of writing around the encampment. Doug never stops long enough for Jason to read any of it.
And all the gathered legionnaires are standing at attention with no fidgeting. Like good Romans. He glances at Praetor Warden. She’s standing as still as everyone else. Doug said she was a demigod? Jason feels like he’ll crawl out of his skin if he stays still any longer, but Lupa said he was ready to be a good Roman. Even the purple shimmery lares are lining up with the legionnaires and not moving.
They’re standing on the Via Praetoria, and the five cohorts are now assembled and starting some sort of roll call. A person wearing a centurion’s helmet, with the big tufty thing that goes from ear to ear, stands in front of each cohort, calling out names, and people answer ‘Present!’ one by one. There are two cohorts on either side of the street and one lined up across it, in front of the Principia. Doug gives him a grin and a wave and goes to join the last cohort. He seems unbothered by being the only one not in armour.
Then again, the armour isn’t what Jason expected. When Lupa talked about the legion, he imagined long lines of perfect legionnaires as far as the eye could see, all in matching imperial gold armour. The armour that looks like lots of separate plates overlaying each other, a bit like a pill bug. Maybe the armour that looks like chainmail, but he’d still imagined it was all made from imperial gold.
The two praetors wear the pill bug sort, and theirs is all imperial gold, but everyone else is a whole mess of different things. Maybe a quarter have armour of the same design, but some pieces are gold and others are dull grey. Like mortal steel?
The rest are wearing all different variations of steel chainmail. Some have chainmail sleeves, and others are wearing additional shoulder guards that look like the plate armour.
Underneath they’re all wearing matching purple tee-shirts, which makes Jason feel like he must stand out like a sore thumb in his yellow cyclops tee-shirt.
They’ve all got matching black modern combat boots. Jason doesn’t even own a pair of shoes. Their shields match too. They all have a huge rectangular scutum, four feet tall and two and a half feet wide. Painted red and gold with the big round metal piece in the centre. It looks gold, but Jason’s thinking they painted the shields to match each other.
The only other matching thing between the two hundred legionnaires is the pila each of them is holding. On the top third of each pilum is a thin metal shaft with a triangular arrowhead on the end. The bottom two-thirds is thicker wood. All the metal parts of each pilum look like imperial gold. Since everything seems to have a different name from what Lupa told him, Jason reminds himself not to ask questions until he learns what each thing is called.
Praetor Warden tells him that the other praetor is Praetor Basil Shields, legacy of Mercury. As they walk to the end of the Via Praetoria, Jason tries to look at him out of the corner of his eye. Curly blonde hair and blue eyes. He’s kind of smirking, but in a nice way? The purple cloaks will make the praetors easy to identify. There’s a lot of people here.
With everyone lined up nice and neatly and roll-calls mostly finished, the two praetors stand with Jason at the end of the Via Praetoria to address everyone. Jason hopes the Fifth Cohort has good hearing; they’re kind of far away.
Two people stand in front of each cohort. At the end, Doug is standing next to a younger boy. Would that be his optio? Jason’s also not clear on why each cohort has a centurion. Or why they are called cohorts to start with. Weren’t cohorts way bigger than centuries?
When Praetor Warden turns to him and tells him that each cohort has two centurions, Jason starts thinking about cursing Lupa out. She’s been teaching him about the legion ever since he can remember, and now he finds out all of it is wrong? Was this some sort of test?
Lupa likes testing him. He still doesn’t know if all that talk about eating him was a joke or not. She finds the strangest things funny.
The centurion in front of the nearest cohort on Jason’s left steps forward and shouts, “Colours!”
Yes, Lupa’s definitely playing tricks on him. Six standard bearers step forward. Each wearing a fur cape. Lion-skin capes? Um. Okay. Aren’t lions, like, super endangered or something? Jason can’t help thinking of Lupa and wolf-skin capes, and he shoves that thought out of his head. The lions weren’t like Lupa, nuh uh.
Five of the standard-bearers carried their cohort’s animal banner. The eagle for the First Cohort, the boar for the Second Cohort, the horse for the Third Cohort, the wolf for the Fourth Cohort and the dormouse for the Fifth Cohort.
Standing beside the Fifth Cohort standard-bearer is a boy carrying an empty pole.
Praetor Shields leans down to tell him quietly, “The Fifth Cohort lost the eagle. Until it’s returned, they’ve been sentenced to carry an empty pole.”
What.
Jason keeps his face calm and starts mentally screaming at Lupa. She told him that losing an eagle was the ultimate disgrace. Legions were disbanded if the eagle was lost. The Romans once spent twenty-five years waging war solely so they could retrieve their lost eagles.
“Uh, how long ago was it lost?”
“In the 80s. We don’t talk about it.”
Jason needs to learn new curse words immediately. He also needs to find wine and raw meat to make a very large offering so he can be extra certain Lupa hears him. There must be a grove or a natural spring around here somewhere. Why would she do this to him?
He thought Lupa liked him? He drags his eyes open wider. His eyes are watering from the sun reflecting off all that shiny armour, that’s all.
Praetor Warden steps forward, “Romans! You may have noticed a disturbance earlier. Lupa, the she-wolf who nursed Romulus, Founder of Rome, blessed us with a visit!”
And Remus. Praetor Warden forgot Remus.
There’s murmuring and comments about giant wolves. The purple spirits gathering around each cohort call out different things.
Jason smiles to himself when he hears a lar yell, “In my day a lupa was a prostitute!”
He has nothing nice to say about Lupa right now. Let her be a prostitute. Whatever that is.
“She brought Jason with her. Jason is the champion of Juno and the demigod son of Jupiter. She also provided a letter of reference, which I took to the City Senate. They, and the augur, have decided he is to join the legion.”
There is dead silence for a second, and then the entire legion bangs their shields and shouts, “Ave!”
Jason jumps and steps back. Praetor Shields grabs his shoulder and pushes him forward again.
Oh. Yeah. No weakness.
This is exhausting. Lupa would leave him alone for long stretches, and she didn’t care if he was weak when no mortals could see him. She said it was part of being a pup. She even said it was okay if the older pack members showed weakness, so long as they had the rest of the pack to protect them. Weakness is only bad if it means you’re not safe.
Lupa also told him over and over that the Romans were not like the pack. That they would take advantage of weakness. She really enjoyed telling him the story of Emperor Commodus in way too much detail, just to make sure he understood the Romans were not like her wolf pack.
Right now, too many people can see him.
Praetor Warden speaks again, “Praetor Basil and I will stand for him. We’ll arrange an adjusted schedule until he’s a bit older, but he needs to join a cohort today. Who will accept him?”
The centurions standing in front of four of the cohorts yell over each other, offering him a place.
The only ones not talking are Doug and his- junior centurion? Optio centurion? What do you call two centurions in charge of forty people?
He speaks quietly to Praetor Shields, “Can I join Fifth with Doug, please?”
Praetor Shields leans down to whisper, “Kid, Fifth Cohort has a real shit reputation; you’d be better off in First.”
Jason screams at Lupa in his head. He was supposed to join the cavalry! He’d been looking forward to it! But they don’t even have horses! And now someone is telling him that First is better than Fifth, and he does not know up from down.
But Doug was nice. And the centurions of the First Cohort have all these shiny medals on their chests and look kind of scary.
He speaks firmly, “I want to join Fifth Cohort.”
Praetor Warden looks at him closely. Doug said she’s a daughter of Concordia? She was the goddess of agreement and marriage. Isn’t it kind of strange that she has a daughter? Was she even married?
Whatever Praetor Warden sees on his face, she must approve.
“Okay.” She turns back to the legion, “Does the Fifth Cohort accept Jason Tonans, son of Jupiter?”
He blinks at the name. Did she give him Jupiter’s title as a surname? Um. He glances at the sky, but it seems calm, only some high up clouds and pale blue sky. So, Jupiter might be okay with it?
He’s very glad he didn’t tell her his father was Jupiter Optimus Maximus. He’ll still need to ask them not to use it or something. Without admitting he had lied about not knowing his surname.
Lupa took him to watch television through people’s windows when he first started trying to sneak off to spend time in the mortal world. She showed him that he’s talked about on the mortal news, one of the missing children presumed murdered by movie star Beryl Grace. They have these weird drawings of how he would look now, and they really do look like him. The news reports are the only reason he knows for sure that he has an older sister. Thalia Grace disappeared at the same time he did.
Lupa doesn’t know what happened to Thalia. Or even why he was with Juno to start with. She’s suggested that Jupiter gave Jason to Juno as a gift, which isn’t creepy or anything, or maybe that Juno saved him from his mother killing him.
Lupa made very sure that Jason knew that if mortals recognised him, it would be very bad. He’d be returned to his mother without Thalia, and he wouldn’t be safe.
Besides, he wants to forget all of it and start over. He can’t remember it himself, and he wants to make a good impression. Having a presumed murderer as his mother won’t do that.
The Fifth Cohort bangs their shields into the ground and yells. He can’t tell what they’re yelling, but it’s very loud and sounds very happy.
Praetor Warden turns to Jason and tells him he now stands on probatio. He’ll become a full member of the Twelfth Legion after one year. She pauses here, and Jason’s sure there’s another way to become a full member that she’s decided not to tell him.
As Praetor Warden turns back to talk to the legion, Praetor Shields whispers to him that if he ever wants to change cohorts, just let him know.
Praetor Warden announces that Jason will join the Fifth Cohort. Then she yells, “Senatus Populusque Romanus!” and Jason stares with wide eyes when the entire legion yells it back.
Okay. That might be the weirdest thing Jason has ever seen. Why would they do that? What a random thing to yell.
Doug calls out, and Jason remembers where he is. When Doug gestures, Jason moves towards his new cohort.
It is very awkward walking past all the other cohorts to reach the Fifth Cohort. He feels like hundreds of pairs of eyes are burning into him.
Praetor Warden tells everyone that they have an hour for dinner, and then they are to meet on the Fields of Mars. Two legionnaires from the Fifth Cohort are excused from war games to ‘help our newest member acclimate’.
Okay then.
He follows Doug as too many people introduce themselves and talk over the top of each other about him being an ‘actual real-life son of Jupiter’ and all the things he’ll do when he’s older. They seem to think he’ll help them retrieve the eagle. They all go quiet when he asks where the eagle is.
The legionnaires roughly dump pila and other weapons outside the mess hall before they go inside. They really do lay down on the couches. Or, some of them do. The ones in less stiff armour sit upright or cross their legs. Jason thinks normal seats or sitting on the ground would have been easier. The Fifth Cohort sits at the very back of the mess hall, near the kitchens. The empty pole for the missing eagle has its own holder, looming over them.
There’s too many people talking over the top of each other, and Jason gives up trying to understand anything. He remembers to use a knife and fork, but he mostly pokes at the food on his plate. Any appetite he had is gone. He keeps expecting a heavy paw to cuff him over the head for being a little snot, but none comes. He misses it.
When a legionnaire asks if his last name is Spanish, he quietly tells them it’s one of his father’s titles. Jason doesn’t know his last name.
He crosses his fingers where they can’t see as he speaks, and tries to convince himself that Tonans does kind of sound like it could be a Hispanic name or something. Even if he’s currently sitting with the last remaining legion of Rome, where people should know Latin.
More silence, and then they ask what he knows about his family. Doug tells them the right dates when Jason uses the feast days, and he flushes. It isn’t that he doesn’t know the mortal calendar, but he’s not used to using it in conversation, and Lupa doesn’t use a mortal calendar. His understanding of days comes from the feast days. It’s how the Ancient Romans did it.
He knows today is September thirteenth, the feast of Epulum Jovis. Lupa claims it’s an auspicious day, but Jason is less sure.
This time last year was the end of the first week of unprecedented storms. A category five hurricane formed from nothing across a few hours on the seventh of September, 2016. Late the next day, an earthquake under the ocean caused a tsunami. The next week was full of ‘unseasonal weather events’. Either huge storms and earthquakes, or scorching sunshine that caused heatstroke in fall.
The weather returned to normal, only for the storms to start all over again a few weeks later. Jason regularly snuck away from Lupa to eavesdrop on mortal news, and it talked endlessly about ‘unprecedented heatwaves’ and global warming.
Everything calmed down again, and the weather went back to normal. For a few weeks. Mid October last year, there was one last set of heatwaves that even melted snow-caps from mountains. The storm that hit over New York during that was the worst one yet.
Jason likes the weather. It’s interesting, and storms make him feel happy inside.
Except for the storms a year ago that happened all across America. They felt wrong. Too heavy, not friendly. It felt a bit like that odd moment outside the encampment, when he thought he could smell the ocean. He could have sworn he smelt it when Doug was showing him around too.
He interrupts the current conversation to ask, “Are we near the sea?”
“Uh, not really? San Francisco Bay is like seven miles or so west of us.”
One more thing to never mention again.
It makes him doubt that today is a good sort of auspicious day. From what he heard on the news, a lot of people were comparing all those storms to the strange lightning storm over New York the year before. He kind of remembers that one, he thinks. He really shouldn’t, it happened on the other side of the country. But he remembers the fireworks in the sky from the mortals’ strange July 4 celebrations and the way he ached inside, like he’d lost something.
“Do demigods have powers?”
He needs to stop blurting things out. Everyone turns and looks at him again.
He looks down and stabs at the food on his plate. He’s not sure if Lupa didn’t know, or didn’t want to answer him, but there’s so much she never told him.
“You mean like the X-Men or something?”
Who or what are the X-Men?
“I mean, like powers from our parents? Why are demigods different from legacies?”
Doug answers carefully, “Demigods tend to be better fighters. They have better endurance, more natural stamina. Excellent leaders. They have a lot of status in our culture. And a lot are naturally good with a weapon. Sometimes they may have character traits that are similar to their godly parent, but I don’t know about inheriting magical abilities.”
Doug looks around the table, “Anyone know of anything like that?”
Jason listens as people talk over each other. He catches only a few sentences.
“The Coelispex family are legacies, but they’re said to have inherited prophecy from Apollo?”
“There’s the legend about that son of Vulcan, the one who could make anything. But that was from King Numa’s time.”
“Sarah seems to make everyone get along, even when they’re arguing. I reckon that counts as magic.”
“There was a former Praetor who could see through illusions? Son of Janus. He was said to be the best at identifying monsters through the Mist.”
Doug’s voice is harsh, “We don’t talk about him, you know that, Matt.”
He turns back to Jason, “Demigods might be a little better at something because of their parent. Like Vulcan’s kids being good in the forge, Mercury’s kids being good public speakers, or Venus’s kids being beautiful, but I don’t think it’s really a magical thing? There’s no way of telling if their interests are just what they’re good at or if they choose them because of their parents.”
Basically, Jason should not feel any sort of connection to storms or wind. Right. Got it.
He listens half-heartedly as they go back to discussing different people he’s never heard of and their supposed abilities.
He’s also kind of wondering if anyone else can see the wind spirits all around the mess hall, or if that’s a him thing too. Why are breeze nymphs acting as servants? It seems a little unexpected. They seem to be the ones making the food too?
When people start standing and leaving, Doug moves around the tables, getting the cohort up and ready. Lots of people complain about it being pointless because ‘they’ll just lose’. Doug seems to agree, but he still makes them collect weapons and form into lines. Praetor Warden stops at the table and hands him a pair of combat boots that are way too big. He puts them on anyway.
Doug assigns two older girls to ‘look after the new kid’. Jason doesn’t catch their names, and they don’t seem to know what to do with him. They mostly talk to each other over his head as they follow lines of marching legionnaires. He stomps along, trying not to trip over the giant clown shoes.
Jason eventually works out they are going to the Field of Mars for a war game. Not the original Field of Mars, which he figures is still in Rome, Italy. But New Rome has its own Field of Mars for training the legion. The two girls are very happy to sit it out. They still don’t talk to him. He follows behind as they walk towards a tower of some sort where they could ‘properly observe their defeat’.
He’s only now realising he hasn’t seen a household altar or even a patera, the plate for making offerings to the gods. Lupa always insisted he make an offering to Juno and Jupiter at every meal.
But no-one made an offering tonight. Not even one to Mars or Victoria for the war game about to happen.
There’s no point even trying to ask the two girls if the gods are worshipped differently here. So he stays quiet and follows them up onto the little tower. The height gives him a clearer view of the entire valley. There’s a small cluster of buildings on a little bump of a hill to the southeast. A little north of the hill is a larger cluster of buildings that look kind of Roman inspired.
The larger group of buildings has something that really looks like an aqueduct leading down to it. Why would there be an aqueduct? Do they not have modern plumbing?
The encampment sits to the west of both groups of buildings, and there’s a river running from the lake at the centre to wrap around the outside of the whole valley. Is this the ‘Little Tiber’ that Lupa mentioned? She’d been a bit strange when she talked about it. She’d told him it was best to stay away from it, that there was magic in it.
The older girl hands him a pair of binoculars and tells him to ‘have fun’. She and the other girl sit on the floor, leaning against the little fence that stops them from falling out of the tower, completely ignoring the legion below them.
When the war game is over, Jason can kind of see why they didn’t want to watch. The elephant is interesting, but the rest of it is, well, embarrassing.
This is the Twelfth Legion Fulminata?
The legion sent underground on Jupiter’s orders to train demigods and keep the true traditions of Rome going?
Though only part of the Twelfth Legion went underground, Lupa says the Twelfth Legion had the most demigods of any legion, so they were split off and sent away when they realised Emperor Constantine had turned his back on the gods. The demigods in the other legions eventually retreated to Camp Jupiter as well. There were a few centuries where Rome had two Twelfth Legions, which must’ve been confusing.
This is still not what Jason expected when Lupa told him about the Twelfth Legion Fulminata. Multiple people tripped over their own armour. All of them were using their pila like hastae, and a shield formation collapsed in on itself yards before the attacking enemy reached it.
Lupa didn’t have thumbs, or many weapons, but she told stories. She described everything. Lupa must have lied to Jason. Because this makes no sense.
By the time Jason trudges back towards the encampment with the mud-coated, limping Fifth Cohort, all he feels is deep disappointment and dread.
It gets worse when he’s shown his barracks. Doug has clothes for him in his size, but no purple tee-shirts. Doug tells him they’ve special ordered some in his size, but it’ll take a bit. They’ll need to throw out his current clothes as they are ‘too ragged to keep wearing’.
Even worse, Jason now needs to sleep in a room with five sets of bunk beds. And nine sets of eyes watching his every move. His bunkmates are all boys, but the next youngest is fourteen. The oldest is seventeen. He feels like a stupid child.
Jason follows the others to the bathhouse and the latrines, and he cleans up before changing into scratchy new pyjamas that are too big. He carefully transfers his coin from his jeans pocket to the pocket of the pyjamas. Doug takes his clothes and puts them in a nearby bin before they even leave the bathhouse.
When he returns to the bunks, Doug tells him he and Jason will meet with the praetors in the morning to discuss his schedule. He thinks Jason will attend some sort of ‘school in the city’ during the morning, and work as a messenger the rest of the time.
No weapons training until he turns ten. When Doug gestures, Jason reluctantly hands over his coin. Doug tells him that the praetors will keep it safe and Jason can have it back when he starts training full time and has proven his sword skills.
The only things Jason owns are his clothes, the letter and his coin. They’ve taken all of them now. Doug doesn’t even seem to realise what he’s done. Jason can’t ask about it. Romans aren’t weak, and there are too many people watching him.
When Jason asks where the city is, Doug tells him he would’ve been able to see it from the observation tower.
“Wait, that little village?”
Yes, the little group of buildings with a huge white coliseum looming over it all is New Rome. The coliseum is bigger than the village.
Of course it’s New Rome.
Lupa says Rome was the largest city in the world during the time of the Roman Empire. Over a million people lived in the city. Why would Jason have expected anything but a tiny village in a hidden valley, surrounded by a US city that was smaller than Rome in the second century?
He thinks he hates Lupa. Truly hates her. Even if he runs away from here, they’ve taken Juno’s coin. Besides, Lupa will just bring him straight back. There’s no point thinking about it. He’s a good Roman.
He’s very glad no-one can read his thoughts.
Jason doesn’t know if his memories of Thalia are real; he could have imagined it after seeing those news reports. He still reaches for them now. They can’t take Thalia away from him.
Grey eyes dark as storm clouds, glaring in front of her at a monster who is much taller than them and screaming like a banshee. He remembers Thalia’s white-blonde hair, just like his own, falling wildly over her shoulders. Her arms wrapped around Jason. In his memories, her eyes flash with blue lightning, like it could crawl across her skin any second. It makes him feel safe.
He whispers into his pillow, “Thalia, wherever you are, I hope it’s better than here.”
________________________
He wakes up at dawn to a barracks full of snoring boys. It’s definitely dawn, but there’s no horn, no sign anyone is about. Jason tries to lie still and quiet but only counts to thirty before he feels like he really will go kaboom if he stays still a second longer.
He carefully collects his clothes for the day and sneaks out. The wolves were barely ever awake at dawn either; they liked dusk the best. Lupa says he wakes up at dawn because the sky is his father’s domain, but only when it’s daylight. Nox and Summanus rule the sky at night. Jason catches his line of thought and growls.
Yesterday proved Lupa is full of shit. He needs to stop repeating everything she ever told him. Because she is full of shit.
He feels quite pleased about the curse words. As he cleans up in the latrine, he keeps tasting the sound of them in his head.
He feels less pleased when he properly looks at the latrine.
What? It’s tiled in marble and has gold plating everywhere. He’d been too tired to really look at it last night. But now that he’s looking, it makes no sense.
Is this a city or a military encampment? How do you quickly move marble buildings? After he saw the Principia, he’d wondered if they had magic, but then they were so freaked by his sword-
His sword. Well. There went any good feelings he had left.
They. Took. His. Sword.
He can feel the rage building inside him. That sword was his. Juno gave it to him. It was his. His. His. His. How dare they!
Jason squeezes his eyes shut, curls his hands into fists and stands in the centre of the latrine, breathing in deeply and letting each breath out slowly. The anger bubbles inside him. It feels real, like it’s yanking at him, pulling at his hair, as if he’s surrounded by wind. He breathes and clenches his fists and shoves all the anger down as far as he can.
He is a good Roman. Romans are strong. Disciplined. Romans endure. They are still and calm. Solid. Dependable. They get the job done without complaining. They protect the weak, but they are not weak.
Jason is not part of Lupa’s pack. The Romans are his pack, and Jason will be a good Roman. He will not explode. He will be a solid pillar of strength.
Slowly, the feel of burning winds whipping around him calms and settles. He carefully uncurls his fists and finally opens his eyes. Staring at his reflection.
Did he forget to brush his hair? He looks a complete mess. Jason sighs to himself and tidies his hair and clothes, he’s glad the clothes fit better than the boots. He’s still full of bubbling anger. If he meets the praetors like this and they mention his sword -HIS SWORD! THEY TOOK HIS SWORD!- he’ll explode and do something stupid.
Lupa told him that when he can’t control his emotions, he needs to channel them into movement. The camp seems pretty quiet, but Doug said they kept a 24/7 guard.
Better to look like the strange wolf boy than to punch his praetor.
Jason heads towards the back wall of the encampment, where there’s a little channel of clear space between buildings and the inside of the wall, and starts to run.
A full two hours later, and right after a new horn sounds, Doug finds Jason still running laps around the inside of the encampment. He tells Doug he’s finished his tenth lap. Doug gets all surprised again and tells him a lap of the walls is a mile. Okay? Jason had been going pretty slowly. He didn’t want to end up all sweaty and have to go to the bathhouse again.
Doug says they have breakfast at nine each morning, and Jason really doesn’t need to get up before that. Jason tries to explain that he always gets up at dawn and that he likes training, but Doug looks at him kind of doubtfully and says he should keep it in mind. He might change his mind once he ‘settles in’.
Jason doesn’t want to settle in. He hates this place. The bubbling anger is locked away now, and he can mostly stand still, which is the best he’s going to get.
He doesn’t think the legion goes on hunts like Lupa’s pack does. Even when the pack wasn’t travelling, he could play and wrestle with them. They never minded his need to move. If the legion doesn’t think he’s ready to train with them, he really doesn’t think they’re going to include him in any physical activities.
He has a sinking feeling that he’s going to get very familiar with running that loop inside the walls of the encampment.
He follows Doug to the mess hall and lets him get him a bowl of- something. Crunchy golden flakes that are very sweet and doused in milk. Oh. Cereal. This is a thing. He forgot. Lupa was a god and she magicked food for him. Cooked meat and lentils, vegetables and porridge type foods she said Romulus and Remus had liked.
Jason can’t remember the last time he ate cereal.
It tastes so familiar. He can almost hear a voice telling him not to worry, Mum’s asleep, eat up so you grow up big and strong. A flash of storm-grey eyes raining tears in bruised purple clouds.
He stops eating and pushes the cereal away. Thalia’s dead, but he still wants only good memories of her. Not bad ones. Even if he has to make them up himself.
His day doesn’t get better.
Doug takes him to the Principia, and Jason gets completely distracted by the mosaic ceiling. It has huge pictures of Lupa, Romulus and Remus and he’s not entirely clear why they’re there, but he thinks it’s very nice.
Doug clears his throat and Jason blushes. He refocuses and stands at attention in front of a big wooden desk while the praetors lay out his ‘new schedule’.
Breakfast with the legion every morning and then walking across the valley to ‘the city’. He’ll be attending morning lessons at the ‘New Rome School’ with the other kids that grow up there. When he asks, with a bit more interest, about the other kids, they tell him there’s only a dozen or so, all legacies. All grew up in New Rome. The praetors think it will give him a chance to ‘make friends with kids like him’.
But they won’t be like him. None of them had Lupa. Or Thalia.
He’ll walk back to Camp Jupiter for lunch and spend his afternoons working as a messenger for the legion and the City Senate. They’ll start him off slowly so he has time to find his way around.
He keeps his face blank. It’s a single valley. He’s been running with Lupa’s pack for years. Do they really think a group of godly wolves stayed in one place? He can always find his way.
He is a pillar of strength. Unmoving. Solid. Dependable.
He tenses and relaxes the muscles in his toes, hidden inside his new oversized combat boots, when Doug gives Praetor Shields Jason’s coin. No fidgeting. No weaknesses. But the ones they can’t see don’t count. They tell him it will be locked in the Principia treasure room and kept safe for him until he’s ready to wield it.
He really doesn’t like the way they say it. As if even this, personally given to Jason by Juno Moneta, now belongs to the legion and not him.
Jason is very glad he didn’t show them it also turns into a hasta. If they won’t let him train until he’s ten and expect him to prove his mastery of two weapons before they give it back, it’ll take even longer.
He hates seeing the coin go. If he’s going to school in New Rome, maybe someone will know about Diocletian? He’s sure Lupa mentioned him, but he can’t remember anything else. It might make the coin feel a little less out of his reach. The probatio necklace thing they give him in return really isn’t worth it. Why does he need to wear a label?
He doesn’t ask, only listens silently as they continue explaining his new schedule.
On weekends and during school breaks, Jason will join his cohort and do non-weapons based physical training when he’s not working as a messenger. They seem to have his every minute of every day mapped out.
When he asks about visiting San Francisco, they tell him that any trips outside the valley need to be authorised by the praetors. Because of his ‘age’ and ‘his status and importance as a champion of Juno’ he’ll need to be accompanied by one of the older kids and an adult from New Rome.
No more sneaking out to watch the news through people’s windows then.
He quietly asks if there’s any way for him to watch the mortal news.
Praetor Warden looks at him, very thoughtful, “Is there a reason you want to watch the news? Even for mortals, seven-year-olds don’t really watch the news.”
They do if they have a sister who’s been missing for over four years. Lupa’s the one who told him the mortals keep track of his mother. Beryl Grace is famous; if someone finds Thalia, it’ll be on the news. Even if she’s dead, Jason needs to know where she is.
When he was with Lupa, he tried not to think about Thalia. But it feels like everything here reminds Jason of her. Reminds him he’s alone. He doesn’t care if she has a different father and isn’t a demigod. She’s all he’s got.
He has no intention of telling these people about her. Jason tries to drop his shoulders and lower his eyes. Doing the thing Lupa calls ‘false submission’. She says that while she won’t tolerate his lying to her, she doesn’t care if he does it to mortals.
He mumbles to the ground, “I like watching the weather. I like storms.”
He thinks that’s okay. Last night Doug said it was normal for demigods to be interested in their parent’s domains. And Jason has always been very interested in cities and how they work, as well as in the weather reports.
He must’ve gotten it right because the praetors both laugh a bit and smile at him.
“Well, that’s pretty understandable, given who your father is. I’ll have a radio requisitioned for you, and we can probably arrange for you to watch weather reports when you have your morning lessons.”
Jason knows he shouldn’t lie, and he mostly doesn’t. Lying is bad. But he’s not feeling very nice right now. They took his sword.
Doug takes him to ‘the city’ next, telling him to stay far away from the fauns and that they’ve already been warned off Jason. Why are there fauns here? Doug doesn’t seem to have an answer. He says something vague about how the fauns are safe from monsters inside the valley.
Along the way he points out a second group of buildings on a little hill, off to their right. He tells him this is Temple Hill, where the gods’ shrines and temples are.
“Is that where the Feast of Epulum Jovis was yesterday?”
Doug squints his eyes at him, “We don’t do that sort of thing. Offerings and structured worship like that… it’s too Greek. A few people might make offerings to the gods they have a connection to, and the augur spends most of his time in the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, but the only feast we have is the Feast of Fortuna.”
Jason stumbles over his too-big boots, and Doug catches him.
“You okay?”
Jason nods wordlessly and scrambles for something to say. He asks what they do on the Feast of Fortuna, and half listens as Doug talks about the feast day and how they elect city and camp officials on that day.
Why on Terra’s green earth would they choose Fortuna of all the gods?
Luck and good fortune are nice and all, but she won’t protect them when the other gods smite the camp for elevating a minor goddess over the Dii Consentes!
Wait, if they don’t celebrate Epulum Jovis, that means they’ve set her over the Capitoline Triad.
Oh no.
He talks over whatever Doug is saying, “The temples for Jupiter, Juno and Minerva are on Temple Hill?”
“Well, like I said, there’s the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus; that’s the biggest one. We don’t have temples for the other two. Juno’s pretty well respected, and offerings are left for her in Jupiter’s temple.”
Jason interrupts, “So the Flamen Dialis is in Jupiter’s temple?”
Another odd look from Doug, “I don’t know what that is.”
Jason’s blood is running cold. He’s so lost.
He speaks through numb lips, “The High Priest of Jupiter. Lupa says he was the most important of the priests, even if the rex sacrorum had a higher rank. He was the connection between the mortal emperor and Jupiter himself. The power of Rome comes from Jupiter.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, bud. We don’t have priests here. Flamen, rex or otherwise. Just the augur. He’s a legacy of Apollo and not a priest. If Jupiter didn’t still give power to Rome, you wouldn’t be here.”
Guess that means no Pontifex Maximus either. Okay. This is okay. They’ve been doing this for a while, New Rome is still standing. It’s fine. Lupa must have gotten it wrong.
Doug never mentioned Minerva. Jason asks where her temple is.
Doug shakes his head and laughs - LAUGHS! - at him, “I’m really not sure why you’re asking about Minerva. She’s a goddess of crafts and wisdom. Not really important. Never has been.”
Jason looks around them anxiously. The sky is clear; everything seems calm.
He asks very carefully, “I thought Minerva was a warrior goddess?”
She had an annual five-day festival of war games and art exhibitions in Ancient Rome. Lupa loves telling stories about Minerva. Jason was fascinated by a goddess who built cities, ordained laws and stood for victory. She had a shield that repelled enemies on sight. Her statue protected Troy and Rome. There’s no way Lupa made all of that up. No way.
Doug tells him he must have misunderstood; Bellona is the warrior goddess. Minerva is a goddess of artists. She’s important to some people, but most of the craftspeople in the city, “Make actual useful items and worship Vulcan, the god of the forge.”
Did Lupa get this wrong too? The goddess she described should have already destroyed Doug for saying all this.
Not that Jason’s ever seen a goddess. Well, other than Lupa and her pack. But if Lupa can do all those things, he’d figured the rest of her stories must be true too.
By the time they reach the city, his thoughts are completely tangled. He barely notices when Doug introduces him to a talking armless statue called Terminus.
He wakes up a bit when Doug tells him that Terminus guards the ‘Pomerian line’
“Uh, isn’t that a dog? Shouldn’t it be the Pomerium line? As in Latin for ‘outside the wall’?”
Terminus crows with delight and starts an argument with Doug, who still insists it’s the Pomerian line.
It only stops when Doug talks over Terminus to tell him that Jason is a son of Jupiter. Jason had no idea a statue could have such intense eyes. Terminus tells him he needs an assistant and he would love having a son of Jupiter work for him! Especially one that knows the proper names for things.
“Uh, I think the praetors already have plans. But thank you?”
Doug practically drags Jason across the Pomerium line and into New Rome. Jason is not impressed with what he sees. The city isn’t as small as he’d thought, but it’s still not a city. When he asks, Doug tells him there are two or three hundred people living there.
Two or three hundred people, and it has a senate and two consuls?
Even if the Twelfth Legion has no other ranks, there are ten centurions and two praetors, as well as ten senators of its own. For two hundred legionnaires. Jason likes numbers and the way they add up and divide and make new patterns. Lupa was always happy to answer his questions about Ancient Rome. She was very proud of Romulus’s city.
What people are telling him really doesn’t match up with Lupa’s stories.
Doug introduces Jason to Consul Septimus Coelispex and his grandfather, who is the current augur. Augur Quintus Coelispex looks kind of very ancient, but his blue eyes are sharp, and they drill into Jason’s head when he shakes his hand.
“Hm, best you tell the truth, my boy. Nerves on your first day can be understood, but keeping it secret for longer will not look good for you.”
Jason flinches back, “What? How do you know?”
“I’m a legacy of Apollo, got a touch of the prophetic gift. I can see it in your eyes. You know who you are.”
He glares at the old man, “I am Jason, son of Jupiter, champion of Juno.”
The old man meets his eyes and speaks calmly, “You’re missing at least two family members.”
Consul Coelispex has the same blue eyes as his grandfather, but they’re colder. They look like they’re taking him apart.
He speaks in a warm, friendly way that Jason does not like; it puts his hackles up, “Now, my dear boy. Jason. You can trust us. Juno sent you to us, and we’re going to look after you. Help you prepare for your future. With such protectors, it will be a great one.”
Jason edges away from him.
Doug turns to him, bending his knees to bring him closer to eye level.
“I don’t know what’s scaring you, Jace, but we can help. We won’t send you back to your family unless you want to go.”
Only one person can call him Jace, and she’s dead.
Jason snarls viciously, “Don’t call me Jace!” taking another step backward.
He runs straight into the augur, who must’ve moved behind him.
The augur’s hands hold his shoulders, and somewhere above Jason’s head, he can hear him mumbling, “Born of thunder and charm and gemstones. Elegant gemstones. Red gems. Rubies. No. Emerald. No. Graceful green stones. Grace. Born of grace. Jason, born of grace and thunder.”
Doug stiffens, “Grace. And gemstones? As in Beryl Grace? The one who killed her- Oh gods. You’re Jason Grace, aren’t you?”
Jason wrenches himself away from the old man and backs up into a corner, glaring at them. Fury whipping around him, red hot and yanking at his hair and clothes.
The old man’s voice snaps out, “Control. You must learn control. Calm the wind. Do it now.”
The wind? What wind?
Shit.
They saw.
He clenches his fists and shuts his eyes and pulls the anger into himself. Locking it away. He is a good Roman. Romans have discipline. Romans are strong.
When the fury fades, he cracks his eyes open slightly. Yep. That’s three people, all staring at him.
Doug is shocked. Again. Jason’s getting sick of surprising Doug. The old man’s watery blue eyes are soft, and full of aching pain. Like whatever he saw about Jason hurt him deeply.
The consul’s eyes are glittering and intense.
“It appears you have some connection to your father’s domain. It’s very rare. And very interesting.”
Jason barks a laugh when the old man reaches out and slaps the Consul’s head hard, making the man jolt forward.
The augur’s voice is sharp and cold, “He is a child. I can’t stop you ruining your boy, but you won’t be collecting any more. You will forget what you saw, or I will make sure everyone knows about your father.”
The Consul turns an interesting shade of pale as the augur turns back to Jason, “Remember this, boy. If he ever tries to make you do something you don’t want to do and I’m not around, look up my son, go digging for information. Do not let this idiot bully you.”
Jason straightens up, “Yes, sir!”
He may forgive him for telling them about his family. Maybe. He hasn’t decided.
Doug asks quietly , “Jason, is Beryl Grace your mother?”
Jason slumps, “Yes.”
“I remember the news reports from when you went missing. You had an older sister. If your sister is out there, we can send a quest to go and get her.”
“I don’t know where she is. Lupa doesn’t either. I think she’s-”
He looks away and doesn’t finish the sentence.
In the awkward silence, Consul Coelispex is very happy to ignore everything that happened, and he tells Jason to sit down so they can get ‘a proper accounting of your time with Lupa.’
He’d originally intended to not tell them any details, since Lupa doesn’t like having mortals around. But Jason no longer cares about Lupa the Liar. If she eats Consul Coelispex, even better.
So Jason tells him all about Wolf House, its exact address, the rooms hidden by Mist and everything else he knows about Lupa’s preferred paths.
If Minerva doesn’t care that New Rome has rebranded her an art and crafts goddess and made Bellona their only warrior goddess, gods clearly don’t see as much as he thought.
Walking back to Camp Jupiter, Jason ignores the smell of the ocean as it wraps around him. It feels different today. Not quite so heavy and angry. Not nice either. Not like lightning storms. But calmer than yesterday.
Jason realises what he’s thinking and his mind comes to a screeching halt. What the hell is wrong with him? Now he thinks the smell of the ocean has feelings?
He blames Lupa. And Praetor Warden. And Centurion Butcher.
He’s starting to think that title is a very good name for the life ruiner and thief.