THE SENATE HOUSE INTERIOR looked like a high school lecture hall. A semicircle of tiered seats faced a dais with a podium and two chairs. The chairs were empty, but one had a small velvet package on the seat.
Percy, Hazel, and Frank sat on the left side of the semicircle. The ten senators and Nico di Angelo occupied the rest of the front row. The upper rows were filled with several dozeng hosts and a few older veterans from the city, all in formal togas. Octavian stood in front with a knife and a Beanie Babylion, just in case anyone needed to consult the god of cutesy collectibles. Reyna walked to the podium and raised her hand for attention.
“Right, this is an emergency meeting,” she said. “We won’t stand on formalities.”
“I love formalities!” a ghost complained.
Reyna shot him a cross look.
“First of all,” she said, “we’re not here to vote on the quest itself. The quest has been issued by Mars Ultor, patron of Rome. We will obey his wishes. Nor are we here to debate the choice of Frank Zhang’s companions.”
“All three from the Fifth Cohort?” called out Hank from the Third. “That’s not fair.”
“And not smart,” said the boy next to him. “We know the Fifth will mess up. They should take somebody good.”
Dakota got up so fast, he spilled Kool-Aid from his flask. “We were plenty good last night when we whipped yourpodex, Larry!”
“Enough, Dakota,” Reyna said. “Let’s leave Larry’s podexout of this. As quest leader, Frank has the right to choose his companions. He has chosen Percy Jackson and HazelLevesque.”
A ghost from the second row yelled, “Absurdus! Frank Zhang isn’t even a full member of the legion! He’s on probatio.A quest must be led by someone of centurion rank or higher. This is completely—”
“Cato,” Reyna snapped. “We must obey the wishes of MarsUltor. That means certain ... adjustments.”
Reyna clapped her hands, and Octavian came forward. He set down his knife and Beanie Baby and took the velvet package from the chair.
“Frank Zhang,” he said, “come forward.”
Frank glanced nervously at Percy. Then he got to his feet and approached the augur.
“It is my…pleasure,” Octavian said, forcing out the last word, “to bestow upon you the Mural Crown for being first over the walls in siege warfare.” Octavian handed him a bronze badge shaped like a laurel wreath. “Also, by order of Praetor Reyna, to promote you to the rank of centurion.”
He handed Frank another badge, a bronze crescent, and the senate exploded in protest.
“He’s still a probie!” one yelled.
“Impossible!” said another.
“Water cannon up my nose!” yelled a third.
“Silence!” Octavian’s voice sounded a lot more commanding than it had the previous night on the battlefield. “Ourpraetor recognizes that no one below the rank of centurion may lead a quest. For good or ill, Frank must lead this quest—so our praetor has decreed that Frank Zhang must be made centurion.”
Suddenly Percy understood what an effective speaker Octavian was. He sounded reasonable and supportive, but his expression was pained. He carefully crafted his words to put all the responsibility on Reyna. This was her idea, he seemed to say.
If it went wrong, Reyna was to blame. If only Octavian had been the one in charge, things would have been done more sensibly. But alas, he had no choice but to support Reyna, because Octavian was a loyal Roman soldier.
Octavian managed to convey all that without saying it, simultaneously calming the senate and sympathizing with them. For the first time, Percy realized this scrawny, funny-looking scarecrow of a kid might be a dangerous enemy.
Reyna must have recognized this too. A look of irritation flashed across her face. “There is an opening for centurion,” she said. “One of our officers, also a senator, has decided to step down. After ten years in the legion, she will retire to the city and attend college. Gwen of the Fifth Cohort, we thank you for your service.”
Everyone turned to Gwen, who managed a brave smile. She looked tired from the previous night’s ordeal, but also relieved. Percy couldn’t blame her. Compared to getting skewered with a pilum, college sounded pretty good.
“As praetor,” Reyna continued, “I have the right to replace officers. I admit it’s unusual for a camper on probatio to rise directly to the rank of centurion, but I think we can agree…last night was unusual. Frank Zhang, your ID, please.”
Frank removed the lead tablet from around his neck and handed it to Octavian.
“Your arm,” Octavian said.
Frank held up his forearm. Octavian raised his hands to the heavens. “We accept Frank Zhang, Son of Mars, to the Twelfth Legion Fulminata for his first year of service. Do you pledge your life to the senate and people of Rome?”
Frank muttered something like “Ud-dud.” Then he cleared his throat and managed: “I do.”