Chapter Nineteen - Part Two: The Atlantian Blade

One miniature statue, a part of a lyre, and roughly half of two posts that had been broken into dozens of pieces were all that had so far been pulled from the ocean.

Days of planning.

Thousands of dollars that were donated by patrons.

Literally her mortality.

All the costs and effort for a small horde of items.

In truth, Leta wasn't upset at what had been laid out on a sterile work table in one of the museum's back archive rooms. The small statue was made of gold and had never been documented before as a product of that time period. Thin pieces like cups, earrings, and a few masks were well known, but nothing like this. The little figure was of a bull and only measured a few inches in length, but the craftsmanship was exceptional.

However, not displayed on the table was one more item that was stored under literal lock and key security.

Simon smiled as they put on gloves to handle the artifact. "I thought you would be particularly interested in this one."

It was made of badly oxidized metal and still encrusted with sediment, but the shape was easily identifiable.

"A sword?" Leta breathed, trembling hands hovering reverently over the artifact.

It was perhaps five feet in length from tip to end, growing wide as it reached the crossguard. The pommel had a thick disk shape like someone had tried to flatten a ball on the end.

"Extraordinary." Leta barely spoke above a whisper, so in awe was she at being so close to such an item.

Simon nodded, but when Leta looked back his eyes were full of melancholy. "Extraordinary, yes." He said, almost dejected. "Unfortunately, it is too extraordinary. This sword is more special than you know. For example, what it is made of."

He paused for dramatic effect before mouthing the word 'steel'.

Leta's eyes went wide. "Steel?" She hissed in shock.

Steel was not something that would have been found in the Bronze Age. Furnaces that could get hot enough to produce the metal wouldn't come around for much, much longer - long after the Mycenean empire had vanished.

Steel, though, was not a completely impossible metal for ancient times - King Tut was famously buried with a steel dagger. However, his dagger had been made from steel found in a meteorite. The quantity needed to make a sword was far too much to come from a small meteor that didn't burn up on entry.

"Secondly," Simon said, placing it back down on the table. He took some brushes from a draw and very carefully began to brush away the grim right below the cross guard. As the delicate process continued, faint traces of design could be seen embedded in the metal.

Simon took some paper and a glorified crayon and took a rubbing of the design, then held it up to the light so that they could both see it more clearly.

Leta gasped.

She recognized the small characters from when she had first opened her eyes to see a strange glowing language floating in her vision.

Leta looked back at Simon with wide eyes. "That's Atlantian."

Simon nodded. "Indeed. With this, we can confirm that the site your team was excavating is Atlantian. Unfortunately, this causes some issues. The first being that your team will unfortunately receive word soon that the site will be bared from further excavation."

Leta took a step back as if she'd been struck. "What? Why?"

"You were attacked by a beguiled servant of a Vampire, Leta. Vampires do not bother with humans - they see them as little more than food or bugs to be ignored or killed. The only reason they have an interest in a human is in some connection to the Chosen or the Atlantians. Based on what you told us, they most likely found you from a servant they had planted in the hospital. This most likely has led the Blessed back to the site. In order to protect it from the Blessed, it must be closed off and protected."

Leta frowned, unhappy but she understood the reasoning behind it. Those that deal with history, especially in hostile and war torn areas, will usually run afoul of those that wish to write their own history. Her mother had known a museum curator that had been killed in Iraq when a terrorist group had bombed

an ancient temple that went against their personal beliefs.

Simon bumped her shoulder playfully, "Cheer up. The Chosen will always do their own excavation of of dig sites like this in order to ensure that artifacts like this sword do not fall into the wrong hands. Unfortunately, the knowledge of the Atlantians must continue to be kept a secret, so this sword will be certified as a geological anomaly and not a sword to the public. It will then be submitted to the Chosen archives for research and safe keeping."

Leta pursed her lips in disappointment. "But that perpetuates a false narrative of history."

"Yes, it does." Simon agreed, and Leta could see his eyes lowered in what she could only describe as prolonged sadness.

He sighed, "I am a Judge, Leta. I was built for the purpose of discerning truth from falsehoods and to exact punishment on those that do ill. Just as if I were to hear a lie, the idea that I must, in essence, lie to the world leaves the taste of ash in my mouth."

Simon took a breath, then gave her a reassuring smile, "It is a burden I bare for the good of the world. Now, on to more educational aspects. I wanted to give you the chance to examine the sword before the Archivists arrive and take it away."

Leta made an ugly, sharp inhale. "Really?"

Simon chuckled at her childlike excitement, "Yes, yes. Have you handled artifacts before?"

She nodded, "A few, but nothing this old."

"Don't worry. Your gloves are on, so hold your hands out palms up. I'm going to lower it into your hands. You should be holding it by the tang and the fuller. Ready?"

Leta nodded so fast she nearly made herself dizzy.

Very gently, he lowered it into her outstretched hands. It was heavy, that was for sure. Thankfully, the nanites had augmented her strength enough that she wasn't in danger of accidentally dropping it.

Leta marveled at the roughness of the oxidization, the thickness of the pommel, and the barely there Atlantian hieroglyphs that ran from guard to tip.

"Wow." she breathed, then nearly jumped as Gada interrupted her musing.

[ALERT. THE HOST HAS COME IN CONTACT WITH AN ATLANTIAN MILITARY GRADE WEAPON. MILITARY WEAPONS ARE MADE OF ATLANITE AND PROGRAMMED TO RESPOND TO THE COMMANDS OF ITS MASTER.]

THIS MILITARY WEAPON HAS BEEN DISCONNECTED FROM ITS PREVIOUS MASTER, ALLOWING THE OPPORTUNITY FOR THE HOST TO IMPRINT THEMSELVES ON THIS WEAPON.]

[WOULD YOU LIKE TO IMPRINT YOUR AUTHORITY ON THIS WEAPON? YES/NO?]