King's Crown

Chapter 1: Life Down Under

"The Kingdom of Ambrosias sits atop the vast Continental Canyon," said a rugged man in a worn-out white tank top as he scooped a spoonful of porridge. "Long ago, this place began as a humble mining village. Over time, it grew into the prosperous kingdom we know today."

He sat on an old and worn out wooden chair. The room is lit in a dim yellowish ligt by a old dusty firelamp hanging over the table which is the very center of the room.

He had brown hair, emerald green eyes, a powerful, muscular build, and broad shoulders hardened by years of labor.

"The kingdom was built in two layers — Lumens and Umbrian — so miners, who were the backbone of its economy, could access the mines more easily. Meanwhile, those who didn't work the mines lived above and turned raw materials into goods."

He paused for a moment. Looking at his callused hand that held the spoon.

"But as time passed, being a miner became a mark of poverty. The surface became home to the rich and noble, and Umbrian, the lower level, slowly turned into what we now call the slums... The late king actually w—"

"BORING!" a young voice interrupted from across the table.

The man's eyes shifted to the source of the outburst — a 15-year-old boy. Sittin across the table, on top of the similar creaking wooden chair.

"Why do we have to listen to that? That stuff's useless! Can you tell me about the Dreamers instead? Or the Gates!"

The boy had raven-black hair, a lithe frame, and pale skin — not from illness, but from a lifetime without sunlight. There was nothing particularly remarkable about his appearance beyond his hair, which hung just above his brows.

Beside him sat a girl who appeared a year older. She let out an annoyed sigh as she swallows the food in her mouth.

"Art... can you please be quiet and listen to my dad's lesson? And didn't I tell you to stop with the cursing?"

She had luscious red hair falling to the middle of her back, the same emerald eyes as the man, and fair skin like Arteus — all products of life beneath the surface.

"Nah, I'll do my own thing. Besides, what's the point? It's not like I'm going to the Academy or any schools!. I'm neither rich nor a Dreamer," Arteus scoffed, folding his arms and leaning back, the chair creaking on his weight.

"That's exactly why! I can't even send my own daughter Abigail to school, so it's my responsibility to teach you both about the kingdom's history and the things that matter," the man said, his voice calm but firm. Then, he smiled.

"But I suppose you're right. I've been lecturing for two hours already. You two must be bored. Alright, we'll continue another time. Finish your meals, then you guys can do whatever you want — just don't get into trouble."

He scraped up the last bit of porridge from his bowl and stood, heading toward the small kitchen just beside the dining table and washing his bowl and spoon.

The room they were in was modest — a single space combining the kitchen, bed, and dining area, with only the bathroom set apart in a closet-sized room. The front door stood in the corner next to the kitchen sink.

Arteus quickly finished his food, placing his plate in the sink. Patting Carter's back as he slips passed him.

"Thanks for the food, Carter! I'm heading out!" he called, reaching for the door and stepping outside to his own house to get change and get ready.

.

.

.

A few hours later, Arteus, now wearing an old black long-sleeve shirt and pants with worn-out construction boots, was climbing over a massive pile of trash and metal scraps. He slung a sack over his shoulder with his left arm, collecting usable metal and trinkets from the dump.

It was dark, but not completely — more like the shade beneath a bridge at midday. Enough ambient light filtered in from the far-off edges to allow him to search without a lamp.

WAAANG ... WAAANG ... WAAANG ...

A loud siren blared across the entire dump site. Arteus looked up, eyes narrowing at the mechanical ceiling hundreds of meters above. Rings of metal were embedded in its surface.

Suddenly, one of the rings opened and dumped a massive load of trash down in the distant pile. Luckily, it wasn't directly overhead.

"Damn. Site 4. That's a lot of fresh loot," he muttered looking at the distance. "Too far, though... by the time I get there, all the good stuff will be gone."

With a sigh, he scaled down the heap by expertly sliding down the slide of discarded trinkets on his boots and made his way to the junk shop.

At the gate of the dump site, Abigail was waiting. She wore cargo pants, an old brown jacket, and a cap that kept her hair tucked in.

"How's the loot?" she asked as they started walking.

"Terrible. Only got half a sack," Arteus replied, adjusting the weight on his back.

When they reached the shop, they had the sack weighed. Abigail handled the haggling.

They earned twenty dollars.

"Are you kidding me?! Four hours of work for just twenty?!" Arteus shouted at the shop owner.

Abigail grabbed the back of his collar, holding him back. "Twenty is already generous, Art. Move on before you get beat up again. Stop being stupid."

He choked slightly as she pulled harder. "I didn't—"

Before he could finish, one of the older kids in the background who litters the surround Junk shop approached them. As he moves a line of other kids followed behind.

"Hey, you two," the teen said. He looked about eighteen and had a confident smirk. Behind him stood eight others, all around the same age. "We're heading up top. Planning to loot one of the fresh drops. Wanna come? Could be a ton of good stuff."

He pointed upward at the vast metal ceiling — the sky of their world.