A/N: Hey there! Welcome to chapter 1!

I don't plan on these notes to be too long mostly, since most of you just want to get to the story, so I'll try to keep them short. Someone reviewed! I never imagined how one little piece of writing could make me so happy ^_^ and yet, here it is.

So thank you, my lovely reviewer! You know who you are ;).

And without further ado, heres the fic!


Chapter 1:

Omens. Part 1

The man port of Atlantis was always busy, filled with the comings and goings of merchants and traders, all overseen by the dedicated fleet of the Navy. The Atlantean fleet was a force to be reckoned with, commandeered by a group of men who answered only to the Council.

There was no king on Atlantis. The closest thing to one was perhaps the Speaker for the Council, who mediated the meetings and controlled the ballots. It was he who spoke for the Council, and thus, spoke for all of Atlantis.

And it was he who Arkantos was to report to upon his arrival back home.


Theocrat, the current Speaker, had many virtues, and he was one of the best Speakers Atlantis had had in living memory, but if he had one flaw, it was that he was not a very patient man.

With this in mind, Arkantos left his ship under the watch of his first mate and headed through the port on the way to the Acropolis. Citizens, recognising him, called out their greetings and pleasure at his return. In reply to this, Arkantos smiled and stopped occasionally to thank them.

He wasn't putting off talking to Theocrat. Not at all.

Eventually though, he did arrive at the Agora*, just in time for the end of the Council meeting as men dressed inchitons and chlamys began pouring out of the forum. Not wanting to be swamped under bureaucrat praises and invitations again, Arkantos kept out of sight, waiting for the place to empty.

Like most Admirals, he had to deal with politics fairly regularly. But as a soldier, he preferred to let the more eloquent of men handle the talking, since sometimes, he found he tried to let his sword or dory* speak for him.

And as a veteran, more often than not, Arkantos had chafed under the political restrictions war sometimes produced. Blood spent on the battlefield didn't seem to matter to some when the end of a dispute occurred in an official building, run by old men who hadn't seen the hundreds of dead littering the ground, or heard the sounds of the injured or dying lying amongst them.

Arkantos shook his head, getting the ringing of battles past out of his ears. If there was one thing he could say about the past year, chasing pirates was much simpler than war.

As the last few Council members filtered out into the city, Arkantos stepped out from behind the column and headed towards the entrance. Idly, he wondered where Kastor was.

As if summoned by his thoughts, a voice rang out around the deserted limestone columns.

"Father!"

As he turned, Arkantos let out a grunt of surprise as a fairly solid force ran into him, forcing him back a step. He looked down to see a mess of black hair resting on his leather jerkin.

His face broke out into a delighted grin.

"Kastor!" He returned the embrace, wrapping his arms around his son, his only family left on this earth.

Laughing, Kastor finally released his father and stood back, grinning up at him.

Arkantos blinked.

"You got taller" he said, seeing that his son was several inches taller than the last time he's seen him. The teenager's grin grew.

"Yes! I am now almost as tall as you!" Arkantos' own grin surfaced at this, ruffling his son's already untidy mop of hair.

"Just about, my boy." The lad made a sound of protest at the motion, but it was lost in the happiness of his father's return.

Their relationship was an unusual one, though in their defense, Arkantos was hardly a conventional man. His own parents had died in an accident when he was only 8, and his uncle Andros had cared for him until he'd entered the navy. Andros had died a few years later. His wife's mother had died giving birth to her, and her father had passed away shortly after due to grief. They were both only children.

When his wife had left this world, it had left him with only one relative; their son. As a result, they were exceedingly close.

Kastor had asked more than once to come along with him on his missions, both to spend time with him, and also to escape from the routine and chafing safety of Atlantis. Arkantos knew that he couldn't put off his requests much longer. Kastor was almost 14, near the age Arkantos himself had entered his service.

Not for the first time, Arkantos' thoughts strayed back through his life, remembering all he had done, and all he had seen.

And again, not for the first time, he decided the time wasn't yet right for Kastor to see the world.

"So, my son, how are you progressing in your lessons?" he asked as they stepped into the Hall.

Kastor gave a pleased smile.

"I have been training with Master Eresius almost every day!" Arkantos' gaze slid down to the sword at the young man's waist. It was a simple weapon, but it was still strange seeing it there. Kastor was obviously carrying it around regularly.

Ah to be that age…

Arkantos could remember what it was like.

Barely.

"Arkantos!" Theocrat's voice rang out from an adjacent corridor, and the pair turned to see him striding towards them, his expression slightly grim. At this, Arkantos frowned, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach.

He knew what that look meant…


"You cannot ignore the omens, Arkantos. Lord Poseidon's displeasure is clear."

The stern-faced politician stared down at the man in front of him, leaving no room for debate.

Unfortunately perhaps for him, Arkantos had faced too many fearsome beasts in his time, and the bearded, elderly man in standing before him was nothing in comparison.

He remained steadfast, and resistant.

"Troops we send their now will be lucky to arrive before the fight is over" he fired back, almost indignant.

"Even they do," he continued, exasperation only heightening, "their only task will be to show the banner of Atlantis…not the task for an Admiral."

He'd had enough of sailing around with next to nothing to show for it. He was ready to spend some time at home.

Kastor looked fairly uncomfortable standing between the two of them. Young as he was, even he could tell that his father was almost crossing the line refusing his new orders, regardless of Arkantos' own status. He kept quiet, observing both in awe and apprehension.

Theocrat's tone turned slightly reproving, as he tried to be more reasonable with his irascible Admiral.

"It would shame Agamemnon if we sent one of your junior officers – he already complains that we do not pay enough attention to the Greek colonies." At this, Arkantos fought down the urge to snort of derision. Theocrat's eyes narrowed, as if sensing Arkantos' disdain.

"No, it must be you."

Arkantos opened his mouth, to say just what he thought about Agamemnon's 'concerns', when an inhuman roar shattered the air. The three men jerked around in surprise, and together, they ran to the edge of the Agora, to a cliff side which overlooked the port.

From that vantage point, Arkantos could see the tentacles rising from the waves, and wrapping around a fishing boat which had anchored not far from the shore, while screams from both the bystanders and from the vessel itself mixed in with the creature's own groans.

As they watched in horrified disbelief, the boat, with a great cracking sound, broke into several pieces and sank beneath the churning water.

"What in the name of-?" Arkantos' shock was broken as he watched an archer start firing at the monster. More shouts rose as other's joined him.

His gaze hardened. There was work to be done.

"Kastor."

The boy jumped as his father turned and abruptly strode away from them, gaining speed with each step.
"Stay here!"

By the time he'd reached the exit of the building, Arkantos was running.

When he reached the beach, several petrobolos* were already there, projecting their volley against the kraken, and it was working. The combined efforts of the archers and the machines were wearing it down, though not before a couple of unfortunate hoplites standing too close to the monster were snatched from the shore and disappeared beneath the waves, much like the ship.

Arkantos pushed aside the stab of regret at the loss of his sýntrofoi* and rushed forward himself. With a roar of his own, he brandished his javelin and jabbed the tipped end in between two flailing tentacles and into its fetid flesh.

The creature shrieked its pain and rage, lashing out at the thing that had hurt it. Arkantos dodged each and every swing, continuing his grim task. Encouraged by their leaders appearance, the soldiers around him let out their own battle cries and seemed to attack with more fury, with more, fresh troops hurrying up from the military academy.

Just a few minutes after the attack began the creature finally lost its fight with exhaustion and the numerous oozing wounds caused by sword, arrow and spear. It let out a final, hollow groan and sank under the water.

Cheers sprang up from the ranks of men surrounding Arkantos, while the Admiral himself stared out into the bay.

Something occurred to him. While Atlantis' patron god was Poseidon and they maintained a force to be reckoned with on the sea, the sea itself was a wild and often vicious mistress. It contained many secrets and dangers, seelie and unseelie. The kraken was but one of them and, as he had seen on occasion, it sometimes followed the commands of mortals.

And there was one mortal that Arkantos knew had domination over the colossal squid.

And he knew that it was unlikely that the kraken was the only thing Kamos would throw at them.

"Well done!" His grinning soldiers turned to him, but they faded as the men took in his grim expression.

"But," Arkantos continued, seeing a determined calm come over his men as they stood to attention, "we should prepare ourselves for more attacks.

While his men stationed themselves in platoons around the harbour, Arkantos assessed the situation.

With the men he already had, he could defend the bay against a normal attack, like a single kraken or a small force of enemy soldiers, but against a force any larger than that, he knew that they wouldn't stand a chance. It was a peaceful time in Atlantis, and with any major battles fought miles away, the people of the island thought they were safe. As such, much of the island's fighters were dispersed around the towns at their own homes.

He knew that he could recall them, but it would take time. And time might not be something they had if what he suspected proved to be right.

A lookout's cry of alarm, from his vantage point in a watchtower, verified Arkantos' fears.

"Black sails! A landing party!"
As the ship came into view, Arkantos felt his heart sink. It was a kebenit*, Kamos' favoured style. And the red insignia blazoned across the pitch black canvas was further proof.

His decision made, Arkantos dispatched his scouts. He was recalling his troops.


Arkantos had developed, like most career soldiers, an ability to only let his exhaustion affect him after the heat of battle had faded. The longer his body was held alert by the rush only a fight could bring, the more he would suffer for it later. And as the years went on, the older he got, it took longer and longer for him to recover.

As the last of the landing party fell to the dirt dying, Arkantos felt the familiar ache settle in his muscles.

What he wouldn't give to have Ajax's strength right then. That man never seemed to tire, Gods help him.

Arkantos raised his weary head as the sound of running feet reach him. Dodging in between the tiring soldiers, a messenger slid to a stop, panting in front of his commander.

"Sir! The Atlantean army is on the way!"

Relief bubbled up within the warrior. Thank Poseidon!

"How long?" He demanded.

"Two leagues!"

Two leagues. That meant it would take them about 2-4 hours. And with raiding parties and more sea monsters coming every 30 minutes or so…

Arkantos felt the relief he had felt surface only moments before crumble.

Even with the relief still trailing in from the nearby countryside, the army might not make it in time.

And yet…

"Another kraken approaches! Pray this is the last!"

At the sound of the lookout's voice, Arkantos' question came out almost unbidden as he lifted his spear again.

"The black sails won't take Atlantis this way. What are they thinking…?"


There is more to this chapter in the game, but I decided I'll release them in two parts. One, because I don't like really long chapters, and two, because I'm lazy and want to get more out sooner rather than later. And my boyfriend is bugging me to write more of my original story (sorry babe! x) I've almost finished part 2, so (hopefully) it should be out in a day or so, if uni doesn't get in the way.

Reviews welcome! Critiques likewise. Flames, not so much. Advice and suggestions very welcome!

~~CreatedInFyre7.

**Helpful glossary! These are all from wiki if you want a more in-depth explanation than mine.

Agora – central spot in Greek city states. Literal meaning is "gathering place" or "assembly". It was the centre of most of the significant aspects of Greek life and culture.

dory - spear or javelin. Chief armament of Hoplites in ancient Greece. In AoM, it was Arkantos' main weapon.

chitons – form of sewn clothing worn by ancient Greeks. There were different versions for men and women.

chlamys – a type of clothing, like a cloak worn by ancient Greeks, worn occasionally over other clothes, but often by itself. Seen frequently on Greek vase paintings.

petrobolos – catapult, name taken directly from the AoM game. Historically, such weapons were not largely used until early A.D., though evidence exists that shows how early they could have been used. The closest used in the era would be the Ballista.

sýntrofoi – Greek word for partner, comrade, mate etc. Used Google Translate J

kebenit – also taken directly from the game. Lighter offensive ship available in the Egyptian Classical Age.