²Olden Crown, heroes of olympus

003.

OLDEN CROWN
━━ chapter three

━━ THE FIRST TIME Abilene had seen the legion assemble, she'd been so intimidated, that she had almost slunk back to the barracks to hide ( and she probably would have if it wasn't for Leila, who was insistent that children of Ceres make good impressions; "Our mother gets so much flack for being Goddess of Agriculture—we can't let Octavian think we're some losers!" Maybe she had a point, but that doesn't mean Abilene likes it ). Even after being at Camp Jupiter for three months, she still found it an impressive sight.

               The first four cohorts—each forty kids strong—stood in rows in front of their barracks on either side of the Via Praetoria. The Fifth Cohort assembled at the very end, in front of the principia, since their barracks were tucked in the back corner of Camp, right next to the stables and the latrines. Abilene spotted Hazel running right down the middle of the legion to make it in time. Silently, Abilene held her breath—if Hazel was late ... well, cleaning stables all on your own sucked.

               The campers were dressed for war. Their polished chain mail and greaves gleamed over purple T-shirts and jeans. Sword-and-skull designs decorated their helmets. Even their leather combat boots looked ferocious with their iron cleats, great for marching through mud or stomping on faces. In front of the legionnaires, like a line of giant dominoes, stood their red and gold shields, each the size of a refrigerator door. Every legionnaire carried a harpoon-like spear called a pilum, a gladius, a dagger, and about a hundred pounds of other equipment.

               Hazel and Nico's entrance was obvious—they jogged down the street as everyone was coming to attention. They were technically late just yet—Hazel's name hadn't been called by Dakota—but with the way their footsteps echoed on the stones, they practically were. Octavian noticed as well, smirking down at the daughter of Pluto from his spot at the head of the First Cohort. Abilene's top lip curled, still remembering the blackmail the legacy of Apollo tried to pull. She hated how smug Octavian looked in his plumed centurion's helmet ( that didn't fit his scrawny head, which was some satisfaction to her ), and he was donned with a dozen medals pinned on his chest.

               It was all stupid—Octavian and his gift of prophecy. He was acting like it was such a big deal he knew that Ceres had suddenly gone very silent with Abilene ( said he saw the "truth" in the auguries while he was looking for Abilene; she doubted that, figured he heard her telling Frank about it ). But it wasn't! Well ... maybe it was—Ceres had spoken very often with Abilene, much more often than any of the other gods spoke with their offspring. For a while, it was a source of pride for Abilene, especially after she was gifted Viridis by the goddess. Then, Ceres went silent.

               Abilene still thought about her last talk with Ceres—the day after Jason disappeared in October. It was the day Ceres gave Abilene Viridis, too—the Imperial gold falx sword appeared on the altar carved out of oak wood in her temple, cutting some of the poppies and wheat Abilene and Leila had offered earlier that week. Ceres's sleepy voice whispered to her, inside Abilene's head, and she felt the voice vibrating from the temple's wooden floors.

               This sword will be vital to you, said Ceres. There's a reason I named it Viridis—it will bring a better, younger age to my name.

               Abilene didn't know what it meant, but the next time she spotted Octavian, he grinned at her wickedly and made a show to ask about the sword. He acted as if he knew something she didn't—and that the thing he knew from his daily auguries were ... bad. No matter how much Abilene found a new way to ask, Octavian would shrug and say, "The auguries told me, I am not sure I can tell you." It was infuriating. And if it wouldn't have gotten her in a whole boatload of trouble, Abilene would've taken Viridis and made Octavian target practice.