The Atlantian System: Creation

With time left before everyone reported to the war room, Leta decided to wander around the complex.

She hadn’t been the most observant last night and was still trying to come to grips with everything this morning, so she hadn’t had time to appreciate the beauty and history of the place truly.

She could tell that the original building had probably been the home of a noble when Greece had been part of the Ottoman Empire. Tiny details such as arched windows and the slightly domed roof of the dining hall were reasonable indications of the building’s original intent.

In her wanderings, she crossed paths with Allister, who was carrying two plates of food.

“Fancying meeting you here.” He chuckled at his joke, “Are you lost?”

“Not really.” She responded readily, “Just looking around. Make sure I know where everything’s at, seeing as I’ll stay with you guys for the foreseeable future.”

“I’m heading to the scriptorium to give Huda and your Mundane friend lunch. Care to join me?”

“I’d be delighted.” She beamed and then pointed at the plates. “Can I help you with those?”

“Nah.” His booming chuckle felt like it shook the building as he gave her a good-natured grin behind his beard, “Even if you don’t like people treating you like a Crown, I’d still treat you like a lady. Erienne would hit me upside the noggin if I did anything less. Follow me. Best we see what mischief your friend has found among the books.

She followed close behind as they headed back into the main hallway, decorated with antique paintings and sconces whose candles had burned down to nubs.

The silence between them was only slightly uncomfortable until Leta broke the silence. “So, I’ve been thinking about this whole training thing. I’m grateful for you and Atreus’s willingness to help me improve, but I wonder why you’d even bother. It sounds like the Crowns are kept locked away and protected for their value in war and their power over the Chosen. I guess my question is, why would you even offer to train me if I’m so valuable.”

“Well, lass.” He sighed, “Atreus and myself are firm believers in the notion that everyone should be able to protect themselves and make decisions for their well-being. You didn’t pick this life; hells, many see this fate as more of a curse. You give up a lot when you Rise so the least anyone can do is let you decide in what direction you want to go from here.”

“That’s oddly sweet.”

Allister shrugged one beefy arm, “We’ve all been where you are now - just learning the strength that now flows through you while trying to come to grips with the loss of what you once had. Erienne wandered for five years, thinking she’d been cursed into a half-life until she came across another Chosen. Koa was nearly gutted in half in the Korean War. And little Samuel? Well, the poor lad lost most of his immediate family in a ferry accident. That was two years ago, but he’s only just started to act like a kid again. The point I’m trying to get at is you don’t Rise if you’re not going through hell on earth. Now that you’re on the other side of things, it’d be cruel to lock you away to suffer the traumas that made you what you are.

“Secondly, as you said, the Crowns lock themselves tighter than the chastity belt on an Admiral’s daughter. Not only are they a scarce class, they are also a powerhouse when it comes to war. Crowns are built to lead, both on a throne and on a battlefield. They’re charged with maintaining the Chosen way of life as a cohesive unit. Millions of people are under their rule, and they have to ensure everyone’s fed, sheltered, and trained to survive. They command the space around them and are known to have all manner of abilities. They can tell when someone is lying and can even see a person’s strengths and weaknesses with a single look and get a sense of whether you would make a good ally or enemy. What they are most famous for is a power called King’s Blessing. When in active battle with an enemy, anyone who has pledged loyalty to that Crown will be completely impervious to injury for the duration of the Blessing. It drains the Crown, but having an invincible army makes for a short war.”

“Wow.” Leta whistled. She could see why Crowns would be so valuable. In her mind, she visualized a vast cavalry army sweeping over a battlefield; arrows and swords broke on impact with their bodies like flies to a car’s windscreen.

She could envision bullets crumpling on impact only to fall uselessly to the ground.

It was a terrifying thought to think, with a wave of their hand, a Crown could make their army bulletproof.

What if they could do more than that?

Tank proof?

Missile proof?

Nuclear warhead proof?

Allister nodded with her sentiment, “As you can see, Crowns are not only a critical aspect of governance but an invaluable asset in war. Naturally, you don’t just let something as vital as that go walking down to the shop for some fish and chips. No, you put it in a box, then put tall walls around it, then put guys on those walls with machine guns, and, well, you get the picture.”

Leta frowned, “I think that brings me back to my original question. If I’m a Crown, why aren’t you doing that? If I’m looking at it from your angle, wouldn’t you want to put me in that proverbial box even if I’m kicking and screaming?”

“Atreus, I think, believes that you won’t know the full scope of what you can do until you’ve tested yourself. Me, personally? I think you’re an anomaly as far as Crowns go. No offense, but you donna seem to understand the first thing about managing a Sect let along a section of the earth.”

“None taken.”

Allister smirked at her sarcasm before continuing, “Also, you’re lightning. Tinkers can get close in that they can work with electrical parts and computers easily, but calling storms like that? No, that’s something altogether unheard of. So far, all the powers you’ve shown have been a mismatch of abilities from different classes. If you are a Queen, which I believe you are, you are as different from the other Crowns as night and day.”

Leta remembered Afra being very confused when she confessed her abilities to the woman in the hospital. ‘I guess it was an odd combination.”

“Just between you and me, lass.” Allister lowered his voice and leaned over an inch as if to confide with her a secret, “I think the biggest reason Atreus wants you trained is that ability to drain others.”

A line formed between Leta’s eyebrows as she frowned. “Huh?”

“Erienne said that back at the hospital, you touched some of the Blessed, and they withered up dead like mummies. I don’t think there’s ever been any documentation of a Chosen’s ability to do that. As a General, Atreus has to look after the well-being of his Sect, so if he has someone who could clear a den on their own without putting a group of his people in danger, he will use that option. Sorry, love. It’s not personal, Atreus is just solely focused on protecting his Sect and their interests, and that could mean using you to do it.”

Leta’s lips pursed. The notion that she was being used by someone grated on her nerves. That tiny part of her that got angry when threatened bubbled in her stomach as if it sensed something.

She understood Atreus’s reasoning.

Hell, he’d lost four people last night just getting her dumb ass out of that hospital.

It didn’t mean that she had to like it.

Allister watched her out the corner of his eye, noting her peeved expression.

“I’d think of it more of a blessing, lass. I think you’d be hard-pressed to find a Sect that wouldn’t, as you said, shove you into a proverbial box to keep you safe. Atreus understands your value as a fighter as much as a potential ruler. You’re not a ruler now, but you could be a fighter, and that’s good enough for him.”

Leta’s head bobbed up and down in acknowledgment of his words but didn’t respond as she thought about things.

The Blessed wanted to eat her.

The Crowns wanted to see if she was going to be of use.

And Atreus was willing to help her get revenge on Tariq and the Blessed, but with the intent that he would send her out into danger so that the rest of the Sect wouldn’t have to.

Leta let out a sharp exhale as she rolled her head this way and that until her neck gave an audible crack.

She could deal with this. At least the Crowns and Atreus weren’t actively trying to suck the marrow from her bones like the Blessed.

She could deal with the political side of things later once the physical threat of being eaten alive had subsided.

Leta looked around as she thought, her years of history lessons helping her navigate the complex.

She could tell from the subtle differences in the architecture of what had previously been the chapel and infirmary that these areas had been additions after the original property was converted into a monastery.

With this hunch, she had a general idea of where things would likely be. The infirmary would have been towards the front gate so the monks would not have had sick people wandering into their sanctuary.

More importantly, the scriptorium would be as far into the complex as possible so that the previous occupants could keep their sacred texts as safe as possible.

Eventually, they reached a set of ornately decorated doors that had probably once been the Lord’s private study but had since been converted into a temple of history. Into a stone plaque above the door were inscribed the Latin words “LitteraScripta Manet.”

‘The written word endures.’

Stepping inside, Leta found herself shivering. The space was freezing, the cold stones and the whirl of electric air conditioners sending chills up her spine as her bare feet stepped over the stacks of books.

Bookshelves covered every wall from floor to ceiling and stood in neat rows on each side of a center aisle. The room was lit above by a dim chandler with just enough light to see by and small electric lamps positioned around the cancerous space.

At a table in the center was a young woman wearing a head scarf who was carefully flipping through the pages of an ancient codex with gloved fingers.

The small lamp on the table cast her features in an almost secretive ambiance, as if Leta, Allister, and the woman were thieves sneaking into a sacred vault.

There was a secretive ambiance to the dark room that was shattered as Vigo ran around the room excitedly, the young woman wearing a headscarf watching him out of the corner of her eye with slight amusement.

“How the hell did you guys get your hands on this?” Vigo shouted in surprise, running over to place a book on the center table next to several others he’d pulled out, his hands also gloved to protect the books as best he could.

“The same way we acquired the Inca codex.” Huda sighed with an amused smile, deftly flipping another page.

“No way…”

Vigo was in full fanboy mode, reverently running his hands over the book’s hardcover as if it were a holy object.

Huda giggled, “Yes. Allister pulled that one from a black market dealer during the Great War.”

“I hear my name,” Allister called out, his baritone voice echoing off the cavernous walls. “Brought you both something to eat.”

Huda turned to give the Scottish giant a soft smile. “Just the man we were discussing. Vigo has been extremely excited about some of the text you’ve brought back over the years. Thank you so much for bringing us lunch. An honor to meet you, your Majesty.” She said with a curtsy to Leta, though Leta noticed her informal tone when addressing her in such a way.

“Mate!” Vigo put the book down and ran over to the giant, trying to wrap his arms around the man’s chest but could barely get his hands around Allister’s stomach. “Do you know what history you’ve saved in this room alone?”

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, lad.” Allister gave him an awkward pat on the back. “

“I’m just… I’m shocked.” Vigo was looking at him, starstruck. “How old are you?”

Allister gave Huda a look, who shrugged in response. “He did the math.”

The giant sighed before answering, “Old, lad. Very old.”

Vigo finally noticed Leta, and his expression fell. “How are you holding up, Leta?”

Leta swallowed, feeling her heart lurch but trying to keep it together. Seeing Vigo brought back the pain of seeing her mother being dragged away by the Gargoyle and her father in the infirmary bed all over again.

“I’m- well, I’m here.”

He gave her a sympathetic smile, “That’s all we can say, right?”

Leta blinked back her tears at the memories and cleared her throat, “I’ve been told you’ve been losing your mind in this room.”

“It’s incredible!” Vigo nearly shouted, his sympathetic mode quickly changing to giddiness. “Journals and documents from the Chosen dating back centuries - millennia in some cases. Look at this!”

He gestured for her to follow him to a side table where an ancient scroll had been laid out for examination.

“This,” Vigo reverently hovered his hands over the papyrus, “Is a scroll from the Library of Alexandria. It’s a first-hand account of a Chosen Merchant traveling on the Silk Road to China and reporting the valuable trade items and Blessed activity.”

“Holy shit…” Leta gasped as her eyes went wide.

“I know!” Vigo’s excitement was closer to a child that had been holding in a secret for too long, “It says his name as Veritus, and he was traveling to Alexandria Eschate in 120 BCE; if my memory serves me right, that was somewhere in Tajikistan, which was part of Alexander the Great’s empire at the time. As a Chosen Merchant, he’d done very well for himself and traded for the much sought-after silk while gathering intel on the Blessed.”

“Wow.” Leta gushed alongside her friend. Seeing something like this brought back the wonder and excitement that had made her want to study history for the rest of her life. Seeing something so personal and humanizing always left her stunned. More than just lines in a textbook, these were real people.

They had jobs and worried about making ends meet. They had inside jokes between friends and nights out in town. Seeing objects like this felt like they continued to live on. Even though their bodies had long since turned to dust, the echoes of their memories lived on.

“Question,” Huda spoke up as she got Leta’s attention, “Can you tell the value of someone just by looking at them?”

Leta seemed to recoil at the odd question. “I what?”

“It says here,” Huda turned back to look at the book she was flipping through, “That a Crown can look at someone and see their value. I believe this is referencing value as in whether someone is a good person but it could also mean if someone is skilled and would make a valuable contribution to society.”

“No to both of those. I can’t see someone’s ROI with a glance.”

“Hmm.” Huda hummed to herself, making a note on a spiral notebook beside her.

The question had piqued Leta’s interest. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I’m going through the Job Book to see if there’s any record of a class with your skill set. I had hoped it would be useful to see what else you’re capable of, but so far, no luck.”

Leta took a few steps over to the woman to look at the tome she was examining. It reminded her of the beautifully detailed books of the Middle Ages illustrated by monks that were sometimes more fiction than historical documentation.

Huda flipped the page to a partially faded illustration of a nobleman dressed in green and gold clothes, depicting people surrounding him but only coming up to his hips, indicating that the man was above those he ruled.

Leta could make out the word ‘Regens’ scratched with gold foiling on the other side of the page. Beneath was a brief description of a minor noble, followed by itemized skills that sounded much like those of a Chosen class.

“What is this?” Leta looked confused as Huda flipped to another page, featuring a man proudly holding a bow with a quiver of arrows at his back and the words ‘Sagittarius’ in gold.

“This is the Codex Classium Electus, or as we call it, the Job Book. It’s a documentation of the known Chosen classes made by a Scribe during the reign of William the Conqueror. It’s a fascinating read, especially if you want to study what each class can do, but it’s not providing me much insight into your abilities.”

Leta shook her head ruefully, “I highly doubt it’s going to have anything in there about me.”

“You would be correct.” Huda’s giggle was melodic and sincere, which made her appear even more beautiful.

“Feel free to go through it, your Majesty.” Huda stood from the table, “If you’ll excuse me, I’m not about to eat my lunch over a thousand-year-old book.”

“By all means. Where do I find the gloves?”

“Oh, sorry! Right here.” She pulled a box of disposable gloves from the seat of a chair and handed it to Leta before walking away with her plate.

Leta took a pair of gloves out and, after snapping them into place, flipped to the next page in the tome.

This one featured a man dressed in black with the lower half of his face covered with a cloth and a dagger raised high as the word ‘Sicarius’ shone from the other page.

As gently as she could, Leta flipped one page after the other, looking at the various classes that had been noted.

Fisherman. Sailor. Warrior. Blacksmith. Locksmith. Farmer. Baker. Mason. Alchemist. Merchant. Archer. Butcher. Tailor. Cook. Spy. Potter. Weaver. Miner. Musician. Hunter.

Each class was thorough in its details of abilities and weaknesses. Each page was equal in its artistic design so that each job, from the noble to the farmer, was depicted in gold and beauty as if to stand firm that all classes were equally important.

That was until she flipped the book to the very first page to start over.

There was a title page painted in gold and a variety of other colors, followed by a short handwritten note from the Scribe who first made the Codex.

And then, there it was.

A man and a woman dressed in red and white with silver crowns resting on their brows. On the other side were the words’ Regis Et Reginae Ad Coronam’ in letters that were painstakingly detailed.

Kinds and Queens of the Crown.

Leta sat down in Huda’s vacant chair to read what had been essential to the author.

“The Kings and Queens of the Crown are the most noble and just of the Chosen.” Leta read aloud, “Above all else, they uphold the sacred duty to guide the Chosen and defend the mortal existence from the forces of fang and blood that would seek to destroy all life. By their blessing, they bestow great power to those that pledge their loyalty and bring peace to a chaotic world.”

“As with most historical documentation.” Vigo noted with a raised eyebrow, happily munching away where he sat cross-legged on the floor away from all of the priceless manuscripts, “That statement seems very biased.”

Leta snorted, “I agree, but you also have to remember the period in which it was written.”

“Hard to figure this ‘period’ stuff out when these blokes are leaving centuries at a time.” Vigo humphed. “But the sentiment hasn’t changed much. These Crowns have been the top dogs for, well, forever.”

When he didn’t say anything else, Leta glanced over to see Vigo had a pensive expression on his face, hands holding his sandwich but his gaze elsewhere.

“I know that look.” Leta noted cautiously, “What is it?”

Vigo licked his lips before he spoke. “Well, it’s just that. These guys have been at the top of the food chain since before we, the human race, started writing things down. Huda mentioned that the Crowns used to go to war with each other over territory when a Crown died or was Arisen. While they don’t do that nowadays, habits die hard.”

“This is building up to something I won’t like.” Leta gently closed the book and turned to give Vigo her full attention. “Just spit it out.”

“You’re an anomaly.” He huffed, “They may have been cordial when they knew the score with each other, but now that you, a mysterious class that’s never been seen before, have entered the game? Something in my gut is telling me that the book on rules of engagement just got chucked out the window, and it’s only a matter of time before something bad happens.”