Responsibility
Dorcas
Dorcas ate breakfast with her cohort and then reported for the camp meeting. As centurion of the fifth cohort, she had a responsibility. And Dorcas was more than ready to prove to her praetors that she deserved this position.
The fifth cohort hadn't exactly had the best reputation since they had returned unsuccessful from their last mission. They had lost their golden eagle. Each cohort had one. These eagles are the pride of their legion. Dorcas had set herself the goal of restoring the honour of the fifth cohort.
Today's meeting was about planning the war game for the afternoon. Her Praetors endeavoured to divide the teams fairly, but as always, some had something to complain about.
‘Just a moment,’ interrupted Avery, centurion of the second cohort.
‘Why do we have to team up with the fifth? I thought you wanted to make the teams fair!’
Praetor Frank Longbottom takes a deep breath before answering.
‘That's exactly what we're doing here. The weakest cohort teams up with the strongest. That's the pattern.’
Avery snorts contemptuously.
‘Then why do we have to go with the worst? Why not the first cohort?’
Dorcas was about to lean over the table and personally show Avery how weak her cohort was. But before she could say anything, Alice Fortescue, the second praetor, began to speak.
‘Who says the fifth cohort is the weakest?’
Alice looks at Avery challengingly. But even he isn't stupid enough to pick a fight with the Praetors. Lucky for him.
So after the meeting is over, it's time for weapons training, in which Dorcas has to lead her cohort. But her team is anything but simple. Part of her cohort are the Prewett twins, descendants of Mercury. Both big, strong and always up to mischief. Dorcas always has to keep
an eye on them, otherwise they'll burn down some stable.
She also has a girl called Emma Vanity. She is short, scrawny and has of course chosen one of the most difficult weapons; a manuballista. Not only does it take strength to load it, but also to carry, aim and fire it. Absolutely perfect.
But that wasn't all. Of course, there's always Barty Crouch Jr. An absolute troublemaker and Dorcas' best friend for several years. Dorcas is certain that he could have been promoted to centurion long ago, but is just too much of a mischief-maker. With his dark, spiky hair and a grin that literally screams ‘I'm a trouble maker’, he would be every teacher's nightmare. The only advantage? At least Dorcas doesn't have to support him with strength. As the son of Pluto, he's one of the most powerful demi-gods she's ever seen. What's more, children of the big three are a rarity. Unfortunately, Barty only uses his powers for what he feels like doing. Dorcas is sure that if he wasn't her best friend, she would probably have strangled him out of frustration long ago.
When training was finally over, she took Barty out for lunch. When Barty noticed her literally wolfing down her sandwich, he smiled.
‘Cas, you're taking it all far too seriously. What are you so stressed about?’
Dorcas gave him an unimpressed look.
‘You know very well that the fifth cohort has fallen out of favour. I just want to make sure we don't embarrass ourselves at the war game this afternoon.’
Barty just rolls his eyes.
‘What are you trying to prove? The praetors love us.’
Dorcas smirks.
‘Us? Are you sure you want to count yourself?’
Barty gasps in mock hurt and clutches his chest dramatically.
‘Are you implying that Frank and Alice don't like me? Shame on you!’
Dorcas just laughs. After they have finished eating, they say goodbye again. They have to get ready for the afternoon in their respective barracks. But as Dorcas is about to leave, Barty grabs her shoulder.
‘Hey, seriously now. Don't put so much pressure on yourself. You're doing a fantastic job and the praetors know it. Just because you're the daughter of Bellona doesn't mean you have to bear everything alone. You're strong, but you're allowed to take a break from time to time. I'm here for you, ok?’
Dorcas was taken aback by the honesty and care with which Barty had spoken. She smiles at him.
‘Of course. Thank you, Barty. You're a good friend.’
As she starts to walk away, she turns round again and calls out to Barty with a laugh:
‘But if you make all my armour disappear into the ground one more time, I can't guarantee your safety!’