Rise of Prophecy

by Abdur Mohammed

  The path to Andros’ office is clear, with no aides rushing to stop Alexius, just questioning glares from some of the older soldiers. He sees the private area, with an attractive civilian female sitting behind a counter. As he approaches closed doors, he is expecting some protest from the receptionist; there is none, which raises some suspicion. He pushes the doors and marches in without apology.

  Andros sits behind his desk calmly reading the morning reports. He does not acknowledge Alexius, which he knows will annoy his brother-in-law. His passive aggressive way of dealing with this screw-up always pleases him.

  “Andros, I need your help with something,” Alexius announces as he strolls in.

  “Commander,” Andros says in an authoritative tone. “You will address me as Commander within these walls, and everywhere else in Atlas, do I make myself clear, captain?”

  Well, it eventually had to bite me in the ass, Alexius admits to himself. He thinks back to his outburst at Andros, in his father’s private room.

  “Commander,” Alexius says calmly, “I respectfully request your help with an urgent matter.” Andros drops his papers to look at Alexius. He smiles.

  “What is it this time?” the Commander inquires, “Trouble with the authorities? Gambling debts? You were not a mere hour in the capital, and you were abducted; probably by one of your criminal associates.”

  The accusation does not bother Alexius. There will be no pleasing this villain; besides, he was the one that blocked a rescue attempt. No, be calm, and don’t smash his head on the desk.

  Without hesitation, Alexius makes his request, “I want a reassignment to Commander Stavos’ campaign.”

  There is a brief silence. Andros did not expect this from Alexius. Running away to the Far West Continent was the perfect solution for the menace; after all these years, he would be rid of this embarrassment of a soldier. Now, there was a chance he would share in Stavos’ glory, ultimately returning to Atlantis with more pride and arrogance; but then there was the chance he would be killed.

  “Done,” Andros declares, still smiling. “I will arrange it.”

  “Thank you, Commander,” Alexius says, trying to hide his surprise. This was easier than I thought, he admits to himself.

  He stands calmly, waiting for dismissal. Andros waves him away, so he quickly makes his exit. He closes the doors and then looks at the pleasant female receptionist. He ignores any inclination to suspect something sinister, maybe Andros is warming up to me. He shakes his head with the comfort that things will never change.

  -OFFICE OF COMMANDER STAVOS-

  This office occupies spaces in the old main building at the head of the reflecting pool. Those that traverse the wide halls are of a higher rank than the personnel in the other buildings. Generals, Admirals, and the Commander of the Foreign Legion, Stavos, all pride themselves on being the elite amongst the armed forces.

  Although ranked as a Commander, Stavos’ unique responsibility to all units of the Foreign Legion does put him above his peers. He is an average sized man, standing five-feet-eight inches, medium build, and some would say, of merry character. His short hair is neat, and his features sharp; evidence of him being a ‘chubby child’ is on his cheeks, a fact which is frequently referred to by his friends. He is popular with the troops, beloved some would say.

  Stavos’ office is laid out as a soldier’s would be, sparse with little decoration. Some pennants hang on the wall, showing off his previous commands’ achievements, and many trophies are displayed on a high ledge. The layout is reminiscent of any Archon’s office in the field, with the only thing lacking being the extravagance. He sits quietly at a desk waiting for his visitor to arrive.

  The dark blue office doors open. An aide motions Alexius inside. Stavos does not stop staring at his morning reports, reminding the Captain of his previous encounter with Andros.

  Not wanting to offend the Commander, Alexius decides to show off his crisp military bearing by offering the proper respect to his mentor.

  “Glorious morning to you Commander Stavos, Sir!” Alexius shouts with an Atlantean salute.

  A brief moment passes, then Stavos’ morning reports rise to his face, barring Alexius from witnessing the increasing laughter. Stavos cannot contain himself any longer, so he drops his hand.

  Stavos is red in the face, “What in all that is wretched are you doing?” he laughs.

  Still standing in his rigid pose, Alexius explains, “I just came from that twat’s office. Just making sure you didn’t turn into a twat while I was gone.”

  The Commander rushes over to Alexius to embraces him, slapping his back as long-lost friends do. He releases him and then goes over to a wine pitcher. He pours for the both of them and picks up two cigars.

  “So, afraid to see what FaW-C has to offer I hear,” Stavos says while he lights Alexius’ cigar.

  Alexius begins to choke, “What the fuck is this?” he complains, but still puffs away. “Tastes like rancid feet.”

  “It’s from Faw-C you pussy. I thought you should at least have something from there since you won’t go.”

  “I’ll get to FaW-C one day. Not today I’m afraid,” Alexius says.

  “No, because tomorrow you leave for Anatolia. I am so happy you just don’t know it. The thought of depending on a bunch of stinking recruits to pacify the resistance is just, sacrilege. It’s your fault you know.”

  “Me? Oh no, I didn’t ask to be assigned to Illyria. It was Andros’ petty attempt to get me out of Atlantis. You could have stopped him you know.”

  “I tried,” Stavos explains. “The moron has a way of manipulating those above his rank; not me though you little shit, don’t even think it. You and Deidra weren’t the only ones displaced you know. I lost most of the loyal officers of the ‘13th.”

  “That’s what you get when you make a noble a soldier,” says Alexius.

  “You’re one to talk,” Stavos teases. “If I did not know you, I’d swear you shat gold and talked like those cunts in the Senate.”

  “That will never be me. I am a low born commoner who somehow ended up with forced nobility, or at least that’s what my mother said.” Alexius pauses and has slight regret for his last quip.

  Stavos looks at Alexius sip the wine and pretend not to care that he mentioned his mother. “My condolences for the loss. I can’t very well say your loss, but a loss all the same. Come, drink with cheer, for tomorrow you rejoin the path to glory.” They toast to the upcoming campaign. “So, which pair of tits brought you to your senses?”

  “Nothing like that I swear. I’m just reevaluating some things, that’s all.”

  “Good, because after this campaign, I’m requesting you be assigned as my assistant, receive a higher rank and all that good horse shit.”

  Alexius’ face brightens, “It would have been a better campaign if you were coming along old man.”

  “These pussies think I should fight from a desk. Smell the blood from reports, and plunge my pen in cabinet briefs. I would give anything to be back on the battlefield.”

  Alexius raises his cup, “It would be a glorious campaign then wouldn’t it?”

  The doors burst open with an aide rushing in. He is out of breath, trying to announce someone. Before he could get a word out, he bows as Prince Timon enters with Bana close behind him. Stavos and Alexius quickly jump to their feet and bow in unison.

  “Commander Stavos,” Timon says in his commanding tone while striding over.

  “Your Highness, this is a surprise,” Stavos says reverently. “This is one of my Captains, Alexius of house Badur.”

  Timon looks Alexius up and down; a moment of envy overcomes the Prince as he regards the taller man’s stature. Timon is not built like a warrior, but his Anuk heritage did allow him to be as powerful as ten men Alexius’ size.

  “Yes, your brother is the Lord of that House, isn’t he?” Timon notes.

  “He is your highness,” Alexius responds.

  The Prince casually walks over to S
tavos’ desk, observing the wine cups, cigars on an ashtray, and papers littered about.

  “I knew your father,” Timon says to Alexius. “I admired him deeply. His passing was a great loss to the royal family,” He calmly steps in front of Stavos. “Stavos, I want you to join me this afternoon; there are some things I wish to discuss.”

  Stavos’ face turns red once more, “It will be my honor.” He tries to contain his excitement.

  “Good. Come to the palace at say, four.”

  Timon turns and makes his retreat. Bana opens the door, and they both disappear.

  “You’d better change clothes,” Alexius jokes.

  “Why, what’s wrong with these?” Stavos asks seriously.

  “You’ve got stains all over your trousers.”

  “Shut up you twat.”

  “I’d better leave you to get your good panties on. I have somewhere to be.” Alexius grabs Stavos’ arm tightly. “Good to see you old friend.” He slaps his shoulder then makes his exit.

  “Stay out of trouble,” Stavos yells. “You’d better make that transport tomorrow.”

  Alexius grunts at him as he leaves the office.

  -HOSPITAL AT CITY CENTER-

  The medical centers in the commercial district of Atlas are well equipped for any urgent care. They have the latest cutting-edge equipment available anywhere in the empire and are free for all its citizens. There has always been a long-standing tradition since the time of Hyperboria, that the spiritual, and health care of all people will be free, available forever; today, at least health care is free.

  The priesthood controls a large hospital near the city center. Elite clientele goes there, such as the royals, nobles, and the clergy. The occasional senator may be cared for at the facility, but only if their patron is of the top tier class.

  Alexius and Carrel stand over Calis’ bed. They are in a large private room, which may be as big as Deidra’s apartment. They look at the unconscious man hooked into medical equipment.

  “He is a good man you know, despite being a High Priest,” Carrell says softly.

  “I only just made his acquaintance, but he does seem different than the whole stinking lot. How do you know him anyway?”

  “This man saved my skin a few times, and I saved his. It was a long time ago when I would on occasion, accompany Calis and your father on their adventures.”

  Alexius looks at the old man, curiosity overcoming him, “You’ve never talked about your, adventures. What were you all up to?”

  Carrell smiles, “Well, there’s not much to tell really.” There is an obvious hesitance in his voice. “We were all young, and got into lots of things; they more than me. There was this one time I had to save young Calis here, and your father from being served up as dinner to an African tribe of little men. I found them in the wilderness, ready to be boiled in large pots.” He pauses to light a cigarette.

  “Well?” Alexius asks anxiously.

  “I offered the chief a heard of donkeys and a barrel of rum in exchange for their lives. The chief agreed.”

  There is a miserable look on Alexius’ face, “That’s the stupidest made up story I’ve ever heard.” He shakes his head at the old man, who smiles at him. “I’m going to find something to eat. You want anything?”

  “I don’t suppose they serve ale?” He watches Alexius walk off, ignoring his request. He turns his attention to Calis, “You better wake up you hear. I am too old to watch over him.”

  -HOSPITAL CAFETERIA-

  Patrons to the hospital cafeteria do not have to wait in lines or endure the sub-standard food as in other places. They type in their order at a table or booth, and a server would arrive shortly with their meal; quite the convenience in this elite institution.

  It has been a long time since Alexius had to visit a hospital; he rarely got sick. He sits quietly at his table, waiting for his meal. Looking around at the people seemed to be the only thing to do. His casual glances end on a patch of red hair sitting two booths away from him. It can’t be, he gasps. His server arrives with his tray.

  Lyra is quietly enjoying a sandwich, taking her time to chew her food. She is uncharacteristically dressed in a stylish shirt and skirt. Her hair is brushed. She is instantly startled as Alexius slides into her booth.

  “Excuse me!” Lyra exclaims loudly with annoyance.

  Alexius grins while pointing, “It is you. You hit me over the head, remember?”

  “What are you talking about you baboon, I don’t know you.” Lyra looks at him carefully, then notices his soldier’s uniform.

  “Alright then, answer me this; you just moved into Chow’s right?”

  “Oh, soldier boy. Are you arresting me?” she asks sarcastically.

  “What? No. I am Alexius, and you are?”

  “Trying to enjoy my meal.” She realizes he is not going away. “Lyra. Alexius huh, that’s a girl’s name. What, your mother didn’t like you?”

  “No, she hated me,” he responds. “What are you doing here? You are not staff, not with that hint of criminal mischief about you.”

  “Shouldn’t you be out killing something? No wait, you’re killing my patience.”

  “Killing my patience…that’s rich. Are you always this rude to your neighbors?”

  Lyra was not in the mood for small talk; she wants him to leave. It would be smart she decides, to make nice with the new neighbor, just in case the authorities find themselves at Chows.

  “Alright,” she says politely, “first of all, you were trying to steal my bike, which makes you a criminal, and…”

  “You were shot at,” he interrupts, “which means you were up to no good. Then you were hiding from the civil patrol.”

  “You have quite the imagination.”

  “Look, I get it. Don’t let the uniform fool you, for I’m always up to no good. Stealing your ride though was not intentional.”

  “Sure looked intentional to me.”

  “I was in a car with High Priest Calis,” he explains, “this bitch crashed into us and then abducted me. She held me in the sewers under the old quarter, so when I escaped, I wanted to get out of there as fast as I could. There was a bike, so I tried to borrow it.”

  “So after you escaped your crazy girlfriend, were you going to return it?” She lets the sarcasm sink in. “How do you know High Priest Calis?”

  The question throws Alexius off, “What? Oh, he knew me as a child. He is acquainted with my family and all that. He seems like a good man.” Lyra is silent, chewing on her sandwich.

  “Is he in danger or something?” she asks.

  “No. The doctors say he will regain consciousness soon, and his body is healing.” He bites into his sandwich. “What are you doing here?”

  “Stealing stuff.” Lyra slips out of the booth. “By the way, I’m only renting the space at Chows. I’m not staying there. So don’t come looking for me.”

  Alexius picks up his sandwich and follows Lyra. He sees her head to a lift and wants to follow; that’s not why I’m here, he chides himself. He continues in the opposite direction.

  Carrell is sitting on a chair facing the window, falling asleep. He quickly wakes when Alexius enters the room. He gratefully accepts the half-eaten sandwich.

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll be heading back to the pier,” says Carrell.

  “Go on old man. Take care of yourself out there.” Carrel smiles at him then leaves.

  Alexius stands over the priest once more, looking at him with curiosity. Suddenly, Calis grabs his hand. His eyes slowly open while he attempts to say something. Alexius puts his ear close, trying to make out the whisper.

  “Find Liv…” Calis begins. He is too weak to speak loud enough for Alexius to make sense of what he is saying. “Livi…” His eyes close once more.

  The sun is dipping behind the buildings on the horizon. The room’s lights brighten to a comfortable level. This reminds Alexius that he has to meet Deidra at the apartment.

  -MARKET SQUARE AT THE OLD QUARTER-r />
  The sun has set, signaling the nighttime activities in the Old Quarter market square to begin. It exists just beyond the river and hosts a variety of entrepreneurs. Leather merchants, slave merchants, and exotic animals all occupy their place in the bazaar. Even though this place is in the more dangerous part of the city, there are always affluent visitors walking around browsing the wares; with their security detail of course.

  An unmarked transport recently landed just at the outskirts of the ghetto; it discreetly brought Prince Timon and Commander Stavos to the area, along with six of the Red-Guard soldiers. They all wear regular ‘street-clothes,’ allowing them to blend in with the crowds. Their walk and demeanor, however, does distinguish them from the rest of pedestrians.

  “Your Highness, are we drinking with the common folk this evening?” Stavos asks cheerfully.

  “Don’t call me that,” Timon snaps. “We are just simple wanderers, heading to questionable destinations.”

  “Very well. May I ask where it is we are going then?”

  “Somewhere private, without curious ears to catch our whispers.”

  Both men duck into an alley entrance behind a blacksmith’s shop; not long after, the six guards follow. No one is paying attention to them, for this is business as usual in these parts.

  They pass by two men fighting with a crowd of four just looking on. Closer to a corner, a figure lurking in the shadows offers the group drugs. They casually enter a small tea shop.

  The lights are dim. The place is empty. An old woman sits behind a counter, not paying the visitors any mind at first. She slowly gets off her seat, hobbles to a door close by her table, then points to a darkened room.

  The eight men enter; Stavos is relieved to see three tables spread out in the small space. Oil lamps are lit and hang near two ledges, giving the room an ominous feel. Timon sits, which prompts the rest to follow. The old woman brings a tray with a pot of tea. With trembling hands, she puts it on the table. As she turns to leave, Timon grabs her hand and places a gold coin in it. She smiles and walks off.