The Legacy of a Demigod

Probatios and Politics

[Percy's POV]

Percy wasn't scared of ghosts, which was lucky. Half the people in camp were dead. Shimmering purple warriors stood outside the armory, polishing ethereal swords.

Others hung out in front of the barracks. A ghostly boy chased a ghostly dog down the street. And at the stables, a big glowing red dude with the head of a wolf guarded a herd of...

Were those unicorns?

None of the campers paid the ghosts much attention, but as Percy's entourage walked by, with Reyna in the lead, talking with Y/N who had some very animated facial expressions, and then Frank and Hazel on either side.

All the spirits stopped what they were doing and stared at Percy. A few looked angry. The little boy ghost shrieked something like "Greggus!" and turned invisible.

Percy wished he could turn invisible too. After weeks on his own, all this attention made him uneasy. He stayed between Hazel and Frank and tried to look inconspicuous. "Am I seeing things?" he asked. "Or are those-"

"Ghosts?" Hazel turned. She had startling eyes, like fourteen-karat gold. "They're Lares. House gods."

"House gods," Percy said. "Like... smaller than real gods, but larger than apartment gods?"

"They're ancestral spirits," Frank explained. He'd removed his helmet, revealing a babyish face that didn't go with his military haircut or his big burly frame. He looked like a toddler who'd taken steroids and joined the Marines.

"The Lares are kind of like mascots," he continued. "Mostly they're harmless, but I've never seen them so agitated."

"They're staring at me," Percy said. "That ghost kid called me Greggus. My name isn't Greg."

"Graecus." Y/N turned and said, walking backwards, "After you've been around enough, you'll start to pick up on some Latin. Takes some people a little longer than others, but we all get it eventually. Graecus means Greek."

"Is that bad?" Percy asked. Frank cleared his throat. "Maybe not. You've got that type of complexion, the dark hair and all. Maybe they think you're actually Greek. Is your family from there?"

"Don't know. Like I said, my memory is gone."

"I think I have family from there." Y/N narrowed his eyes, sounding like he was digging into the back of his mind for an answer. "Very distant family... I think. I don't know." he shrugged.

"Or maybe..." Frank hesitated. "What?" Percy asked. "Probably nothing," Frank said. "Romans and Greeks have an old rivalry. Sometimes Romans use graecus as an insult for someone who's an outsider, an enemy. I wouldn't worry about it."

He sounded pretty worried.

They stopped at the center of camp, where two wide stone-paved roads met at a T. A street sign labeled the road to the main gates as via praetoria. The other road, cutting across the middle of camp, was labeled 'Via Principalis.'

Under those markers were hand painted signs like: BERKLEY 5 MILES; NEW ROME 1 MILE; OLD ROME 7280 MILES; HADES 2310 MILES (pointing straight down); RENO 208 MILES, AND CERTAIN DEATH: YOU ARE HERE!

For certain death, the place looked pretty clean and orderly. The buildings were freshly whitewashed, laid out in neat grids like the camp had been designed by a fussy math teacher.

The barracks had shady porches, where campers lounged in hammocks or played cards and drank sodas.

Each dorm had a different collection of banners out front displaying Roman numerals and various animals, eagle, bear, wolf, horse, and something that looked like a hamster.