King of the Seven Seas (EMH) Chapter 5: Trident of Poseidon

[Third person POV]

Back to the Present:

“This was the only clue I have been able to find about the Trident of Poseidon, a weapon wielded by the first King Atlan,” Vulko said solemnly, his voice echoing slightly in the hollow remains of the wrecked ship. He placed the object he had been holding in front of him. It appeared almost like a device.

He carefully unsealed it and removed a rolled parchment inside. With reverence, he unfurled the scroll and laid it out across a flat, rusted surface of the ship, revealing a faded but intricate diagram of the trident—ornate, powerful, and unmistakably divine.

“Legend has it,” Vulko began, running his fingers over the lines of the image, “that this was no ordinary weapon. It was a gift to King Atlan, in honor of his unification of the seven kingdoms. Forged from enchanted Adamantine—also known as the Metal of the Gods—it was designed to endure through ages, to be the instrument of peace and power beneath the waves.”

He paused before continuing, his voice turning almost reverent. “From what I’ve gathered, the trident was crafted by none other than Vivienne—the Lady of the Lake. A mythical figure in many cultures, It is said that after its creation, Poseidon personally blessed the weapon, imbuing it with his divine energy.”

Arthur stared at Vulko in disbelief, struggling to keep up. “Wait—what? The Lady of the Lake? What connection could she possibly have to Poseidon?”

He wasn’t just confused—he was rattled. Hearing her name made him question everything. Part of him wanted to scoff, to brush it off as fantasy. But knowing in the world he was in he really wouldn't put it past him if she was real.

Vulko shrugged with a helpless smile. “I'm sorry but I don't know the answer to everything, I've only been able to gather a bit of information, even then some things might have been lost in translation. Lady of the Lake, according to the fragments I’ve uncovered, is a Celtic goddess—daughter of Manannán mac Lir, the sea god of the Tuatha Dé Danann, the Celtic gods. If her father ruled the oceans in her culture, it’s not inconceivable that she and Poseidon were at least acquaintances.”

Arthur looked down at the scroll again, shaking his head in disbelief. “So let me get this straight—you want me to go to Britain, find the Lady of the Lake, and ask her where the trident is? That’s your plan?”

“It’s more than a plan,” Mera interjected, stepping forward. Her expression was serious, determined. “It may be our only hope. Records indicate that shortly before King Atlan’s disappearance, he paid a visit to the Lady. Then, he vanished—no sightings, no word, nothing.”

Vulko nodded grimly. “Which means it’s possible he left a clue in her care—a message or map meant for his descendants. Maybe even the location of the trident itself.”

Arthur groaned, running a hand down his face. “Fantastic… Why don’t I just go knock on Olympus and ask Poseidon where it is?”

“Because, unlike the gods of Olympus, the Lady of the Lake is known for being more… approachable,” Vulko replied matter-of-factly. “She’s one of the few divine beings who willingly interacts with mortals, and on occasion, even aids them.”

“Besides,” Mera added, “we at least know where she resides—Avalon. According to legend, that’s her domain, it's also one of the realms that's easier to access compared to Olympus.”

Arthur raised a skeptical brow. “Right, Avalon. A magical realm hidden from the world. That clears everything up. Do we even know how to get there?”

“Not exactly,” Vulko admitted, “but we do know where to start. There’s a small town in England—Glastonbury. It’s long been rumored to be the gateway to Avalon. That’s our best lead.”

Arthur crossed his arms and sighed heavily. “Well… at least it’s something. A location is better than nothing. But I’ve got this creeping feeling that things won't be that—”

CRASH!

Before he could finish, the side of the overturned ship exploded inward with a deafening crashing. Shards of woods flew across the room like splinters. The hull had been breached.

Atlantean soldiers poured in through the opening, weapons drawn and armor glinting in the dim light.

“Move!” Arthur shouted instinctively as he ducked behind a pillar. Mera and Vulko dove behind a toppled piece of furniture, barely avoiding the initial burst of plasma fire.

Arthur rolled into cover and reached for his trident. With a shout, he sprang into action, launching the weapon through the air like a missile. It slammed into the chest of the lead soldier, piercing through armor and sending him crashing backwards with a sickening thud.

More soldiers stormed in.

Mera kept low, pressing herself against the shadows, while Vulko stayed behind her, clutching a small dagger—not for offense, but defense if it came to it. Neither could afford to be seen by Orm’s men.

Arthur met the attackers head-on. One soldier lunged, fist aimed for his face. Arthur caught the punch mid-air and twisted, driving his knee into the soldier’s gut with a brutal crunch before hurling him like a ragdoll into the others.

He ducked low under a blast of plasma, the searing bolt whizzing past his head and exploding against the ship wall behind him. The room filled with smoke, sparks, and chaos.

One soldier tried to counter with a long-bladed spear, but Arthur sidestepped and rammed his trident through the man's abdomen. He wrenched it free and twisted, using the momentum to sweep the legs out from another attacker. The man flipped through the air before slamming into a wall, unmoving.

Another Atlantean raised his rifle, but Arthur moved faster, spinning and launching the shaft of his trident into the man’s face. The force cracked the soldier’s helmet and sent blood splattering against the walls.

Two more came at him from the side. Arthur ducked low, swung his trident like a bat, and sent one flying. He kicked the other square in the sternum, launching him back across the ship’s interior. Arthur followed up with a savage thrust of his trident, pinning the man to the bulkhead.

Every movement was a storm—precise, powerful, relentless.

But the enemy didn’t stop coming.

Another squad entered through the hole in the hull—this time wielding unfamiliar weapons. Metallic batons crackled with arcs of blue energy, humming with dangerous static. Electricity surged visibly along the lengths of the weapons, casting flickering light across their dark armor.

Arthur growled, spinning his trident and preparing to charge again.

He lunged at the nearest soldier, but as he swung, one of the batons lashed out and caught him across the ribs. CRACK!

The pain was immediate and sharp—electricity coursed through his body, seizing his muscles. His strike went wide, and he stumbled.

Another blow struck him across the back. CRACK! The electric shock shot down his spine, momentarily shorting out his limbs. He grunted, trying to stay upright, but they were on him now.

Three soldiers surrounded him, beating him down with synchronized, practiced movements. The batons struck his chest, his arms, his back—CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!—each hit sending more volts through his body, each jolt stealing more of his strength.

Arthur swung blindly, knocking one aside, but another came at him from behind and jabbed the baton into the back of his neck. His knees buckled.

Still, he refused to fall.

With a defiant roar, Arthur lashed out one last time, hurling his trident at the ceiling. It ricocheted, bouncing off the ship’s hull before impaling itself into the shoulder of an oncoming soldier—but that was all he could manage.

Two more strikes—CRACK! CRACK!—drove him to the floor.

Arthur collapsed, his muscles twitching uncontrollably, smoke rising off his skin. He tried to push himself up, but another baton came down hard against his temple.

CRACK!

Everything went black.

His last sight was the blurred image of Mera’s horrified face peeking out from her hiding spot with the device in her hands… before it all faded into nothingness.