#13: War Games Part 1

[Drake]

#13: War Games Part 1
“Back In Session”
By Drake

Arthur and Garth rocketed quickly through the sea, past Poseidonesian citizens adjusting rather quietly to their new war-bound status quo. The sea flurried past Garth’s face as he glanced awkwardly at Arthur.

<You should not…arrive like that,> Garth projected.

<What?> Arthur turned his head to Garth, slowing down slightly. Garth matched his speed.

<Your attire,> Garth explained, his large eyes staring forward intently at his path towards the Conservatory of War.

<My…> Arthur glanced down at his body and stopped swimming abruptly. Garth mirrored Arthur’s movements. The older blonde man looked over his clothing. Somehow, through all this time, Arthur had never realized he’d never changed out of his tank top and boxers. They were ripped and torn, dirtied with blood that Arthur could only hope was his.

<Here, follow me,> Garth motioned Arthur towards him, but still wouldn’t meet his gaze. Arthur frowned at Garth’s continued shyness. What had happened? Arthur sighed and swam after Garth, who changed direction and began to swim towards a large seastone building on the edge of Poseidonis.

<What is…?>

Garth actually smiled, eyes gleaming over the building, <This, I believe, is what you would call a mall.>

<No way,> Arthur laughed, <An Atlantean mall? Speaking of, how do you even know what a mall is?>

Garth’s expression darkened, <I…watched the surface world, remember? I know much about your way of life. You have the IPod, the super hero, the por-->

<Let’s move on, shall we?> Arthur changed the subject, swimming slowly into the mall, <What do you guys call this place?>

Garth explained, <It is known as the Isle of the Blessed.>

Arthur’s jaw dropped and he looked incredulously at Garth, <Really?>

Garth laughed, but still refused to meet Arthur’s gaze, <Of course not. We just call it the Market.>

Arthur did not laugh at Garth’s joke, however. Instead, he reversed Garth’s expression, frowning. <Why won’t you look me in the eyes?>

<What are you talking about? Of course I->

<Then do it,> Arthur demanded, turning to Garth, <Look me in the eyes.>

Garth turned towards Arthur, but would not meet his gaze, <Arthur, please…>

<Garth, don’t make me read your mind…> Arthur begged.

Garth sighed and turned away from Arthur, <Can you not see, Arthur? I…I am ashamed of myself. I am the reason you were caught, sentenced to eternity down here without your love, Jenna. If I had just been less pig-headed…>

<Garth!> Arthur floated up to the young Atlantean and put a hand on his shoulder, turning Garth towards him, <You are not to blame. In fact, nobody is but Orm. If he wasn’t such a huge ass, this wouldn’t be a problem.>

<You are not mad at me?> Garth asked.

Arthur psychically laughed, <Look at me, Garth. Do I look mad?>

Garth finally looked Arthur in the eyes, and what he saw made him smile.

<Thank you, Arthur Curry!> Garth embraced Arthur, surprising the older teen, <You are a good friend!>

Arthur smiled and patted Garth on the back, <The feeling’s mutual, Garth.>

<Now, let’s go get me some clothes.>

Arthur floated out of the Market, followed closely by Garth. The young prince grinned widely as he stretched his arms freely out to the sky (or as close as he could hundreds of miles under the sea), stretching the odd, Underarmour-like red fabric. He was dressed and ready to fit into Atlantean civilization. Along with the red shirt, Arthur wore tight blue shorts and a golden seashell necklace…he couldn’t help himself when he saw it.

<So, you mentioned the red’s got something to do with being a student,> Arthur pulled on his shirt a little, <’That mean you go to the Conservatory of War too?>

Garth shook his head, continuing on towards the school, <Oh no. I would never be allowed to join.>

Arthur raised his eyebrow with curiosity, <Why?>

Garth blushed, the red quite apparent on his pale face, <As prince of Shayeris, it would be below me to learn the art of war with commoners. I attend the Conservatory of Sorcery, where I learn a more…refined form of combat.>

<You don’t really think that…?> Arthur pushed.

<It is not mine to think…my parents…> Garth struggled, but was quickly interrupted by Arthur.

Almost like an ADHD child, Arthur, filled with excitement and adrenaline, changed the subject, <So where did Orm learn to fight?>

<What?> Garth turned to Arthur.

<Well, Orm seemed pretty good with a trident back in the rebel invasion. I mean, he had to learn somewhere, right?> Arthur inquired.

Garth flushed and turned away solemnly, <It…it is not my place to tell.>

<What? Why? It can’t be…> Arthur observed the dark look on Garth’s face, realizing the situation was truly, <Bad.>

<You are going to love it there,> Garth tried to change the topic of discussion. He failed.

<What happened? Where did Orm learn to fight?> Arthur pushed, putting a hand on Garth’s shoulder. The younger Atlantean flinched. This did not go unnoticed.

<It is…>

<Oh my God, Garth…> Arthur pulled Garth around to him, <Your parents…hit you?>

<What?> Garth muttered, <That’s ridiculous! I…>

<Garth!> Arthur interrupted sternly, <This is serious. I mean, I’ve seen that sort of reaction before! I had a friend back in elementary…er, early education, and he would always flinch at, well, everything. Christ, Garth! Why didn’t you tell me?>

Garth yet again couldn’t meet Arthur’s gaze, his expression somber, <It is not reoccurring. They only…educate me when I fail to act princely. It is for the greater good.>

<You can’t really believe that,> Arthur argued. Garth pulled himself away from Arthur and began to swim quickly away.

<Your brother sent you to the Conservatory of War for a reason,> Garth spat, <Think on that.>

Arthur swam after Garth, <Is that supposed to be a diss? Garth, you think I care what my brother thinks? Hell, that isn’t the point here! GARTH!> Arthur actually had to put in effort to keep up with the younger Atlantean, but it didn’t last long. It was clear that Arthur had much more endurance than Garth. The younger prince was heaving within a minute. Arthur pulled him back.

<Garth, talk to me,> Arthur begged.

Garth pushed is hand away, <Enough, Arthur Curry. We are here.> Garth motioned to his left towards a large, castle-like opaque building, <This is the Conservatory of War.>

<Wow,> Arthur let his thoughts leak out, <This place is…huge.> Arthur turned around, preparing to continue their discussion with Garth only to discover the young Atlantean was fifty yards away, swimming off. Arthur frowned, but let Garth go. He was late for class after all.

Arthur leaned back in his green beanbag-like chair, struggling to stay awake through the beyond-boring lecture. For three hours he’d been stuck in this dark, barely lit room, listening to his new private tutor explain to him the basics of Atlantean etiquette and culture. Something something magic lights something something chin up. It was like Arthur was back in elementary school, only Lunchables was replaced with watery fish and nap time with yell-at-Arthur-for-being-an-Orin-or-something time. Seriously, could people not get over his past?

<Arthur?> His rather plain young female teacher drew his attention.

<Yes?> Arthur looked up.

<You…> The woman massaged her temples, <You are not paying attention. Why?>

<What? I’m totally…>

<Why?> The woman demanded, <Do you not want to be one of us? An Atlantean?>

Arthur held himself back from going full rant ‘I am an Atlantean’ mode, instead sighing and replying with, <I do, it’s just…etiquette? Basic math and science? Even if it involves magic, it really isn’t that complicated. I mean…I want to know the important stuff, like Atlantis’ past. My past.>

<You would like to learn Atlantean history?> the teacher asked.

Arthur nodded, <More than anything.>

<Well, I was supposed to teach you history next week, but I suppose…>

<Please,> Arthur begged, weary to go back to the kiddie stuff.

<Very well,> she agreed, <Let us start at the beginning.>

<Atlantis began as a united country above-sea thousands of years ago, set around corrupt city-states like Sparta and Athens->

<We were Greek?> Arthur interrupted.

The teacher scowled, <I do not know what that means, but if you are asking if we were allied with those lesser city-states, the answer is no. Atlantis was greater than those…Greek cities. We were the ones to discover and first worship many of their gods.> Arthur took this with a grain of salt. He didn’t actually believe any of the Greek Gods were real, but he wasn’t about to step on any toes after all the chaos he’d started, <We were stronger in military might and had better technology than any of their kind.>

<So of course it was that they hated us. They wished doom upon us, and so it was given to them, for many of the gods hated us as well. They despised us for worshipping Poseidon, lord of the seas, as the greatest among them. Because of our beliefs, Zeus destroyed Atlantis with a horrible storm, letting our people sink to the bottom of the ocean to drown.>

<But we were saved by a mysterious being…someone who went by the simple name of Ocean Master.> Arthur visibly recoiled at the name; the teacher ignored him, <He gifted us with enhanced strength to withstand the pressures of the ocean, gills to breathe underwater, special eyesight to see through the murky deep sea waters, and a stronger mind to communicate without our voices. To this day, we Atlanteans believe the Ocean Master to be our god, Poseidon.>

<As a final blessing, Ocean Master brought us to the merpeople of Tritonis. With their aid we rebuilt Atlantis and learned magic to replace our technology. Many Atlanteans words are still based on the merpeople’s language…the language of magic, transcendent beyond our telepathic understanding of language, so old that even our brains can not translate it for us, like the other languages of Earth.>

<Orin,> Arthur blurted out.

<Yes,> the teacher smugly responded, <Like you.>

<But then…why does Orm hate Mermen? Why does he oppress them?> Arthur inquired, the thought rising in his mind.

Much like Garth had done earlier that day, the teacher turned away from Arthur, face flushed. <I believe we are done for the day.>

<What?> Arthur demanded, <We’ve still got another hour or…whatever you guys call it till I’m due for combat training.>

<I am not feeling well, Arthur Curry. Leave.> And with that final word, Arthur stormed out of the room. Why was it whenever he brought up Orm’s past, people withdrew from him? They even ignored him, made him leave!

Arthur projected rude thoughts back to the classroom so his teacher could surely hear. He got a rather vicious torture image right back. Arthur took a deep breath and floated down the hallway. It turned out to be much shorter than it looked from the front, and it didn’t take long for Arthur to reach the end of the hallway, looking out onto the courtyard. And man, what a view!

The most eye-catching image was the golden statue on the edge of the courtyard. At first glance the statue looked oddly like Orm, but Arthur quickly picked up that wasn’t the case. Beyond the trident and similar helmet design (which he held at his side), the man looked completely different. He was clean-shaven and his face had a kinder edge to it than Orm’s. If Arthur had to guess, he’d assume this was Poseidon: the (hopefully) first Ocean Master. Which drew Arthur back to another question he had. Was Poseidon the first or was the rebel leader really the Greek “god” of the sea? Arthur would make sure to ask Garth whenever he…well, decided to talk to him.

Arthur’s attention was drawn from the large golden statue to a crowd in the middle of courtyard. Every Atlantean stood in red and blue clothing similar to Arthur’s, only they wore black armor as well. They stood around two figures who seemed to be locked in combat. Arthur pushed his mind into the crowd, getting a picture of what was happening.

A short, dark-skinned, remarkably human-looking Atlantean seemed to be easily defeating a taller, thicker, and frankly more bad ass Atlantean. The short man—or rather boy, Arthur realized—easily deflected a rough blow with two short sticks and hit the taller aquaman over the head, knocking him out.

<Freak wins again,> Arthur heard one of the Atlanteans in the crowd think.

<What the hell does that Orin do to be so good?>

<God damn Kaldur’ahm.>

Arthur could feel the hate emanating from the Atlantean crowd. Whoever that kid was, they hated him.

One of the bigger Atlantean children—who was remarkably taller than Arthur at around 6’4”—stepped forward.

<You don’t even need to ask, Pa’len. I’m up next,> the large Atlantean addressed the oldest of the group, probably the teacher. Arthur began to approach the group.

<Very well,> Pa’len agreed. The short, tattooed Kaldur visibly sighed, and took a step back.

<Bo, Cha, come on,> the large Atlantean pulled a couple of his friends forward, <Since Kaldur’ahm is so powerful, we will be facing him as a group.>

Pa’len looked to Kaldur. The young Atlantean nodded his consent. Now as Arthur stood at the edge of the group, he could see the fight unfold for himself. Kaldur was much, much smaller than either of the other three boys. Despite that, he held two sticks and a full-length bow staff on his back. Each of the older boys lugged forward equally large bow staffs, but they appeared to actually struggle a little to hold the staffs up. Whoever this Kaldur was, he really was a bad ass.

<Begin,> Pa’len stated. Bo and Cha immediately lunged forward. Kaldur deflected one blow with his two sticks and kicked Bo to the side. He immediately matched blow after blow of Cha’s attack until he found an opening, and he hit Cha first in the stomach and then in the head.

<Gal’en,> Bo cried out, <Help us!>

Gal, the largest, simply laughed and nodded Bo forward. The lackey took a deep breath and charged Kaldur. The young prodigy simply stepped out of Bo’s way, tripped him and knocked him over the head with one of his sticks.

<I hope that served as a proper warm up, Orin!> Arthur flinched at the word, but it wasn’t directed at him. Gal swung his staff at Kaldur, who barely had time to block it. One of his two sticks was knocked out of his hand.

<You think you’re so strong…a flakking prodigy!> Gal began to swing with more ferocity. He knocked another stick out of Kaldur’s hand. The boy remained unphased.

<You’re finished, you flakking Orin!> Gal swung down, intending a knock out blow, but Kaldur reacted faster than Gal could swing. He drew his staff and blocked Gal’s attack, immediately responding with a rough hit to the gut and then to the head.

<I am sorry, Gal’en. Your father Glorid’en would be proud of how you fought,> Kaldur projected softly over the fallen Gal.

Arthur clapped, finally drawing everyone’s attention to him. For the first time they noticed him. Almost immediately, everyone frowned.

<If it isn’t the prince,> Pa’len greeted.

<I’m here for my lesson,> Arthur explained.

<You are early,>

<There were some…complications,> Arthur admitted.

Pa’len laughed, <With you, I’m sure there always are.> Arthur didn’t like this guy. Because of his anger, Arthur accidentally heard Pal’en’s surface thoughts.

<Frakking surface dweller thinks he can just come in here all confident and…>

<Shut up!> Arthur growled, <Shut up!>

Pa’len recoiled from Arthur’s projection, <You…read my…>

<Yeah. I get that a lot,> Arthur dryly responded.

<Some weak, insignificant blowfish thinks he can…>

<Fight me,> Arthur projected out for all to hear, <See if I’m weak.>

<How dare you!> Pa’len roared.

<Fight me,> Arthur demanded. He’d had enough of this surface dweller bullshit. It was time once and for all for people to realize who he was and why it was not okay to just look down on him because he was raised on the surface.

Pa’len appeared visibly phased by Arthur’s aggressive demeanor, <I…I can not fight a student. It would not be…>

<It is alright, Master Pa’len,> Kaldur’ahm spoke up, <I will engage the prince for you.>

<What?> Arthur turned to the younger Atlantean.

Pa’len saw Arthur’s reaction and laughed, <Oh, you do not think you can beat the best the Conservatory of War has to offer, my prince?>

Arthur looked back to Pa’len, murder in his eyes, <Fine. I’ll fight him.>

Kaldur stepped back and motioned for Arthur to come forward. The young prince read the prodigy’s mind.

<You will find nothing here, Arthur.>

Arthur laughed. This kid was interesting; his odd appearance and young age was not the only difference Arthur noticed. Kaldur was smarter, stronger, and…just different.

<What will be your weapon of choice?> Kaldur asked.

<Nothing. I prefer hand-to-hand combat,> Arthur admitted. Kaldur threw aside his staff.

<Very well.>

Yep, Kaldur was very different.

The oceanic plains of western Atlantis shined with the supernatural gleam of light magic. Across from one another stood two very similar, yet very different men. A war meeting had been called to determine if that was indeed their destination: war. Neither Ocean Master nor Orm desired it, but both aquamen knew it was where their destinies lied.

Orm began, <So, as the laws of Atlantis state, we have convened. As the king I give you one last chance: surrender now, Vulko, and live freely or…>

<Enough, Orm! I am only here because Atlantis’ laws declare it be so!> Vulko roared.

<So we convene with honor and so we shall fight with honor. In your case, it shall be less ‘fight’ and more ‘die.’> Orm growled, <I should have killed you years ago.>

<Like you killed your father?> Vulko questioned, <With that cruel, cold knife in his back?>

<HOW DARE YOU SPEAK OF MY FATHER!> Orm shouted psychically, <You, the true traitor…the murderer!>

<Do not pretend, Orm. It is unbefitting of a king,> Vulko stated, <We both know the truth.>

<That you honorlessly killed my father in cold blood?> Orm retorted.

<No, that you did,> Vulko replied, <It is silly you still try to pin this on me, Orm. I was your father’s greatest advisor and friend. I stood by him through thick and thin. You, on the other hand…you hated Atlan.>

Orm struggled to hold himself back from killing this man, <I had my…disagreements with my father, but he was still just that: my father. I would never have…>

Orm turned away, <When next we meet, Vulko, it shall be on a battlefield. Prepare to die.>

<Oh, that shall not be the case, your highness,> Vulko stopped Orm before he could leave, <Like my fellow Ocean Masters before me, like our lord Poseidon, I shall win. After all, I have a secret weapon.>

Orm swung around to meet Vulko’s gaze once again, <What? That horrible witch-woman?>

<Oh no…Mera is certainly a gift, but my weapon, well, I am having it picked up now. You are well acquainted with it, I believe,> Vulko smiled.

Orm’s jaw dropped as he began to understand what Vulko was implying.

<Arthur…> Orm thought.

<Atlanna’s son is the Unifier, Orm. He shall take the throne, unite Atlantis, and return our beloved country to the surface, as is foretold,> Vulko admitted, <And he shall rule like no king before. Like a true king, unlike you. Someone who deserves to be on the throne.>

But Orm was not listening to Vulko’s last words. He was already swimming off to warn Poseidonis…it had been infiltrated!

Next time, Vulko’s plot comes to fruition! It’s MERA vs ARTHUR as the young prince discovers an unlikely ally!

On a different note, I'm still gonna work on that breaker (the image). The white just doesn't work.