Hosed Down By the MVP

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Frank's POV

Frank propped his pilum against his shield and checked Percy's armor. Every strap was correct. Every piece of armor was properly adjusted. "You did it right," he said in amazement. "Percy, you must've done war games before."

"I don't know. Maybe." The only thing that wasn't regulation was Percy's glowing bronze sword—not Imperial gold, and not a gladius. The blade was leaf-shaped, and the writing on the hilt was Greek.

Looking at it made Frank uneasy. Percy frowned. "We can use real weapons, right?" "Yeah," Frank agreed. "For sure. I've just never seen a sword like that." "What if I hurt somebody?"

"We heal them," Frank said. "Or try to. The legion medics are pretty good with ambrosia and nectar, and unicorn draught." "No one dies," Hazel said. "Well, not usually. And if they do—"

Frank imitated the voice of Vitellius: "They're wimps! Back in my day, we died all the time, and we liked it!" Hazel laughed. "Just stay with us, Percy. Chances are we'll get the worst duty and get eliminated early."

"They'll throw us at the walls first to soften up the defenses. Then the Third and Fourth Cohorts will march in and get the honors, if they can even breach the fort." Horns blew. Dakota and Gwen walked back from the officers' conference, looking grim.

"All right, here's the plan!" Dakota took a quick swig of Kool-Aid from his travel flask. "They're throwing us at the walls first to soften up the defenses." The whole cohort groaned. "Good news is, Reyna's made (Y/N) promise, if we kill a hellhound, they're out of the game."

"And then we have to deal with the crazy good swordsman riding on top of them." One person groaned from the back, "I know, I know," Gwen said. "But maybe this time we'll have some luck!"

Leave it to Gwen to be the optimist. Everybody liked her because she took care of her people and tried to keep their spirits up. She could even control Dakota during his hyperactive bug-juice fits. Still, the campers grumbled and complained. Nobody believed in luck for the Fifth.

"First line with Dakota," Gwen said. "Lock shields and advance in turtle formation to the main gates. Try to stay in one piece. Draw their fire. Second line—" Gwen turned to Frank's row without much enthusiasm.

"You seventeen, from Bobby over, take charge of the elephant and the scaling ladders. Try a flanking attack on the western wall. Maybe we can spread the defenders too thin. Frank, Hazel, Percy...well, just do whatever."

"Show Percy the ropes. Try to keep him alive." She turned back to the whole cohort. "If anybody gets over the wall first, I'll make sure you get the Mural Crown. Victory for the Fifth!" The cohort cheered half heartedly and broke ranks.

Percy frowned. "Do whatever?" "Yeah," Hazel sighed. "Big vote of confidence." "What's the Mural Crown?" he asked. "Military medal," Frank said. He'd been forced to memorize all the possible awards.

"Big honor for the first soldier to breach an enemy fort. You'll notice nobody in the Fifth is wearing one. Usually we don't even get into the fort because we're burning or drowning or..." He faltered, and looked at Percy. "Water cannons."

"What?" Percy asked. "The cannons on the walls," Frank said, "they draw water from the aqueduct. There's a pump system—heck, I don't know how they work, but they're under a lot of pressure. If you could control them, like you controlled the river—"

"Frank!" Hazel beamed. "That's brilliant!" Percy didn't look so sure. "I don't know how I did that at the river. I'm not sure I can control the cannons from this far away." "We'll get you closer." Frank pointed to the eastern wall of the fort, where the Fifth Cohort wouldn't be attacking.

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