The Master Arrives pt1
Annoyed. Filled with anger, contempt, and resentment.
All those emotions came solely from Percy, while everyone else looked at him strangely. To many he seemed like some newly discovered celebrity; to others, someone carrying a contagious disease they should avoid.
He couldn't even eat in peace at the camp's dining hall before being surrounded by stares of every kind.
But what irritated him the most was his father.
That's right, now he finally knew who his father really was. And no, it wasn't the sarcastic and grumpy camp director, the one who had tried to trick him into bringing him alcohol the very first time they met. From that moment on, Percy had decided it was best to stay far away from that man.
His teacher was something else. Foul-mouthed, a drunk, yes… but he would never deceive him that way. He had never truly treated him badly, though sometimes he threatened punishments if Percy didn't finish his training. Percy had even tested those limits several times, almost like a masochist trying to see how far it would go. And even though he was never punished, Percy ended up trusting Miraak so much that he could be considered the father figure he had never had.
Because Gabe, of course, didn't count as a father.
And Miraak, though harsh and distant, treated him as a true student. Once, Percy had overheard a classmate say that "a teacher is a father for life." Maybe that's why, every time Percy tested Miraak to see if he was truly a bad person, all he ever got in return were words of reproach which, if looked at from another angle, were disguised encouragement. Brutal encouragement. Nordic encouragement.
Of course, Miraak would be offended if someone confused him with a simple Viking, but he was never disappointed. To him, all mortals were weak; he didn't expect anything extraordinary from Percy. And yet, he still accepted his effort. For a boy who had never had a father, that meant more than anything.
"This is annoying," Percy muttered abruptly, leaving his food on the plate and standing up sharply. He walked toward his cabin, the one that belonged solely to him. The children of the Big Three weren't supposed to exist, yet Poseidon had a cabin… and it stood empty.
He thought he would finally have some peace. He was wrong. Grover came running to fetch him: he had been summoned to the Big House.
There, two figures awaited him, both wanting to have a serious conversation: Mr. Brunner—better said, Chiron—the activities director of what Percy considered a terrible camp, and the oh-so-"adorable and charismatic" director, better known as Mr. D. Of course, pure sarcasm.
"Percy, can we speak with you?" asked Chiron, while Mr. D wore that ever-present annoyed expression, his eyes scanning the surroundings with suspicious vigilance, as if making sure no one else was nearby.
"Since you arrived, we've noticed your swordsmanship, your stamina… even systematic training that would normally take years for a camper to develop," Chiron said calmly, trying to ease into the subject. "Percy, where did you learn that? The last time I saw you, you weren't like this."
Percy frowned.
"The last time? You mean when you pretended to be my teacher, giving me support only to later tell me I didn't belong here? When you lied straight to my face while I was losing my mind after being attacked? While laughing at me behind my back?" Percy spat out, unable to keep it bottled up any longer.
He had always wanted to say it. He clearly remembered when Mrs. Dodds attacked him—he had heard Mr. Brunner's voice, handing him that bronze sword. A sword Percy had returned, because he didn't need it. That professor, who now revealed himself as a trainer of demigods, had left a twelve-year-old boy to face a monster without any clue of what was going on. He tossed him a weapon and walked away. What would have happened if Miraak hadn't shown up? Did he really think a boy who had never held a sword could kill a creature he had never seen in his life? Maybe. But then he had the nerve to act as if nothing had happened, as if Percy was going insane, until he was expelled from school.
"Percy, I'm sorry for that moment… it was for your own good," Chiron justified himself, though his eyes betrayed some guilt.
"For my own good? Letting me believe I was going insane? I see," Percy replied with a crooked smile, pretending to accept it. But it was mockery—pure poison disguised as acceptance.
"Stop making a scene, brat. We don't have to save your hide just because you're Poseidon's son. Great, another child of the Big Three… just what we needed," Mr. D cut in with irritation, glaring at him. "Just tell us who your teacher is. That guy who showed up near the camp."
Percy stared him down coldly before answering.
"Why should I tell you that?"
"What?" Dionysus had never heard a mortal speak to him like that. His anger swelled, and his frown deepened as he glared at Percy with severity.
Grover, who had been standing off to the side as a passive observer, grew nervous and rushed to Percy's side.
"Percy, apologize!" he pleaded in a panic, then turned to Mr. D with evident fear. "Forgive him, sir, he doesn't know what he's saying. He just got here a few days ago, he didn't even know he was a demigod."
Chiron immediately intervened, calming the god and suggesting that he let him handle it. Mr. D, however, kept glaring at Percy with annoyance as he cracked open a soda can and dropped into a chair, drinking in silence.
"I'm sorry, Percy, if the camp makes you feel distrustful. But after all, I was your teacher for quite some time. Perhaps I deserve a little trust," said Chiron softly.
"Yes. Mr. Brunner earned my trust… but he already lost it."
Percy stared at him, and for a moment Chiron felt a sting in his chest.
"Why would I trust any of you? The first lied to me for months, hiding the truth right in my face. I don't even know if Grover is really my friend. And the other one, the moment he saw me, told me he was my father just to get something from me, without the slightest remorse. In this camp, students can be injured, even nearly die, while you calmly watch from a distance."
"Says the one who sent someone to the infirmary with most of their bones broken," Mr. D cut in mockingly.
"That's what happens when you make kids fight for their lives in a game," Percy replied with cold tranquility. Then his voice grew even more serious. "I don't trust any of you."
The words fell like a knife. Grover lowered his head, feeling a sharp pain in his chest, guilt pressing down on his soul.
"Why do you want me here? Just to ask about my teacher? Then forget it. I came to this camp because I wanted to know who my father was. To find him and insult him for abandoning my mother. But if that's all, I'll leave and go back home."
"Then just go," said Mr. D with a dismissive wave of his hand, as if it meant nothing.
"You know he can't," Chiron snapped quickly, earning yet another look of annoyance from Dionysus.
Percy narrowed his eyes at those words.
Chiron thought for a few seconds, searching for a way not to make things worse.
"Percy, the world is in danger. Your father and Zeus are on the verge of starting a war that will put everything at risk. Someone stole Zeus's master bolt… and he blames your father. Or rather, you—for having stolen it."
Grover, nervous, blurted it out, interrupting Chiron, who had been trying to find gentler words. The satyr was too overwhelmed by guilt, by the weight of having hidden so much, of making Percy believe his friendship was sincere when it had also been part of a mission.
Percy understood immediately.
"I don't have it," he said flatly. Then he looked straight into his eyes. "Is that why you were watching me since Yancy?"
"No," Chiron answered quickly. But his words sounded hollow, as if he couldn't find a way to go on.
"Then what do you want from me?" Percy asked seriously, and in that instant his aura turned cold, distant. It was the look of someone who expected nothing from any of those present.
"We don't believe you have the bolt. But there is someone else who could benefit from this war: Hades. He possibly stole it and now waits for his brothers to destroy each other. After all, he still holds resentment toward Zeus," Chiron explained, though he avoided detailing the reason. "Perhaps he is using this as an excuse to start a war."
"I see."
Percy's face remained expressionless. "Then good luck." He turned around to leave.
"Wait, brat. You're the one who has to go," said Mr. D harshly.
"No, thanks." Percy stopped and turned his head slightly, with a calmness sharper than anger. "Why should I care? That man who is supposed to be my father was never there for me, and the only thing we share is blood I never asked for. And Zeus? He's tried to kill me more than once. If the two of them kill each other, maybe the world will gain a little freedom."
The mocking curl of his lips was too much for Dionysus.
The god stood with a deep frown, and an invisible aura burst forth from his body. It wasn't mere power—it was pure divinity. The mortals present could hardly bear to look at him. Instinct itself demanded they revere him, fear him, bow before him.
Percy felt it instantly. His body bent against his will, collapsing to his knees. He couldn't control his breathing; he could barely move his mouth.
"You'd better learn to show respect, brat," said the god of wine with fury, his voice echoing like thunder.
Percy could hardly lift his head, while Chiron tried in vain to stop Dionysus.
And then it happened.
A shiver swept through the entire camp. A primitive instinct of death invaded every soul. It was an atrocious sensation: as if a massive reptilian gaze pierced them, judging whether they deserved to be reduced to ashes. The skin of many bristled; the air grew heavy.
Even the god felt it. Dionysus turned his head toward that direction, his face serious.
Percy, on the other hand, smiled—defiant, mocking the divine authority before him.
"You wanted to meet my teacher? Looks like you managed to bring him here."