Frank, how did you do that?" Jason yelled.

Frank's head swam with pain. He forced himself not to pass out. "I'm the ranking Roman officer," he said. "They- uh, they don't recognize you. Sorry."

Jason grimaced, but he didn't look particularly surprised. "How can we help?

About five meters ahead, Nico was swinging his black sword with one hand, holding the scepter of Diocletian aloft with the other. He kept shouting orders at the legionnaires, but they paid him no attention.

Of course not, Frank thought. He's Greek.

[...]

Jason's face was already beaded with sweat. He kept shouting in Latin: "Form ranks!" But the dead legionnaires wouldn't listen to him, either.

[...]

"Make way!" Frank shouted. To his surprise, the dead legionnaires parted for him. The closest ones turned and stared at him with blank eyes, as if waiting for further orders.

"Oh, great..." Frank mumbled.

The truth hit him. Jason wasn't quite Roman anymore. His time at Camp Half-Blood had changed him. Reyna had recognized that. Apparently, so did the undead legionnaires. If Jason no longer gave off the right sort of vibe, or aura of a Roman leader...

No," Frank said. "I'm only a centurion."

Jason cursed in Latin. "He means he can't control a whole legion. He's not of high enough rank."

Nico swung back his black sword at another gryphon. "Well, then, promote him!

Yes, Jason Grace." Favonius arched an eyebrow. "I fell in love with a dude. Does that shock you?

Is this guy Love or Death?" Jason growled.

Ask your friends, Cupid said. Frank, Hazel, and Percy met my counterpart, Thanatos. We are not so different. Except Death is sometimes kinder.