The House of Grey- Volume 1 (8 page)

He took a step closer and examined the fine detail and the smooth marble.  He really liked this statue.

"So, who is this guy supposed to be?" Casey asked, obviously bored.

"Jupiter," Artorius answered.

"How did you know that?" Casey asked, sounding slightly surprised.

"Well," Artorius said, starting to grin. "The huge thunderbolt kind of gave it away. Then, of course, there was the whole part where Mr. Gatt just said it was Jupiter."

Monson thought he heard Mr. Gatt stifle a laugh, though when he spoke his voice sounded quite level. 

"Over here, please. The
Horum Vir
's entrance is right around the corner."

Casey and Artorius grabbed their stuff and started after Mr. Gatt. Monson, however, stood for a moment more staring at the stunning sculpture. He looked up into the blank, staring face of Jupiter, king of the gods, and shuddered.

"Absolute power . . . ." He placed a hand on his chin and stared directly into the face of statue. "So how did that work out for you, Jupiter, old boy? It’s lonely at the top, no? Well, if it makes you feel any better it ain’t that great at the bottom either."

Monson winked. Why he winked at an inanimate object he wasn’t sure. He just felt inclined to do so and obviously the statue felt the same way: It winked back at him.

Monson froze. That did not just happen.

"Monson! Hurry up or we're going to be late." Casey's voice sounded a short distance off.

Monson called after him, keeping his eyes on Jupiter, "Late? Late for what?"  Nothing came in response.

Monson tore his eyes from the king of the Roman gods and hurried after the others.

***

The entrance to the
Horum Vir
's quarters was a small elevator found in one of the corners of the Atrium. It was a little cramped, but after a few minutes of arranging, Monson, Casey, Artorius, Mr. Gatt and all the luggage were packed in the elevator and cruising upward to the top floor of The Barracks. Cramped and uncomfortable, talking seemed like a luxury they could forgo. After a few sore moments, in which everyone wished wholeheartedly that they had split up, the elevator screeched to a halt and the doors
opened. This
caused everyone and everything except Mr. Gatt to tumble out of the elevator. Being the closest to the door, Monson fell first. He spilled forward, hitting the ground hard.  He looked up just as Artorius and Casey lost their balance.  Monson shuddered as they came stumbling out after him.

In the midst of the disorder, an odd-looking man rushed to their side, catching them all off-guard. He was skinny to the point of bony with long fingers, high cheekbones, and thin eyebrows. He also had a kind of austere manner that spoke of an unwavering strictness. Despite this, he looked at them with kind eyes that were brown with hints of green.

"Ah, Brian," said Mr. Gatt, putting his hand forward. "I was wondering where you scampered off to."

"Markin," Brian said, extending his own hand and shaking Mr. Gatt's vigorously. "It has taken you a great deal longer than I expected. I thought you might be in the Comfort Room with the other students and parents. So I went to investigate." 

"What did you find?"

Brian shrugged elegantly. "The usual pretentious people, of course."

"Well, allow me to alleviate that burden," Mr. Gatt replied, letting out a slight chuckle. "Let me introduce you to the new
Horum Vir
, Monson Grey."

"Hero," Brian said, giving Monson a slight bow. "I am very glad to make your acquaintance."

"Hero?" Monson said, confused by the greeting.  "Why are you calling me Hero?"

Brian looked slightly shocked. "Hero—have you not been told what '
Horum Vir
' means?"    

"No, I don't think so." Monson replied.

"
Horum Vir
is Latin for hero. Well, actually,
the
Hero."

Monson raised an eyebrow. "So, I get to walk around with everyone calling me Hero? Nice. Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to throw myself off a balcony."

"I see this one has a quick wit," Brian noted.

"And a sharp tongue. I think you're going to have your hands full with him, my old friend."

"Indeed."

Monson glared at the two men. "On behalf of all teenagers, I just wanted to let you know that we love it when you talk about us as if we aren't here. We think it's awesome."

Mr. Gatt put up a hand. "Peace, Monson, we're on your side, I assure you."

Brian bowed. "Please allow me to show you to your quarters. You’re in for quite the treat."

"You two, please follow me," Mr. Gatt said to Casey and Artorius. "I’ll show you where you’ll be staying." 

"You got it!" Casey said buoyantly to Mr. Gatt, as he finished gathering his scattered possessions. "We'll hook up with you later . . .
Hero.
" He looked highly amused.

Chapter 4 – Dreams

Brian gathered up Monson’s things, and then led him down another highly ornate hallway. Covered in murals, the length of the passage displayed an assortment of Roman military ventures, some historical and others obviously fictional. The murals showed remarkable artistic skill. The soldiers and their commanders remained locked in eternal combat with hordes of barbarians and charlatans, as the fury of the Roman war machine devastated lines of blurred figures in the background. The illustrations suited this hall well. It felt like a culmination of ideas that described the school, and the attitudes of a long-forgotten people suddenly reborn in the modern. This mural was Coren and Rome personified in an epic artistic rendition.

"I have never liked these paintings," Brian said, looking at the murals with distaste.  

"Really?" asked Monson with some surprise, "Why is that?"

"Actually, to be completely honest with you, I’ve never liked the whole Roman concept," Brian replied. "Granted, it’s not like it originated with their society; there has always been such. Probably always will be. The Romans aren't anything special in that particular regard."

"I'm not quite sure I understand."

"My dear young Hero," Brian said patiently. "What—"

He paused, considering his words. "Let me answer you in the form of a question.  Were the Romans great, and, if that be the case, for what reason?" 

Monson scrutinized Brian, trying to discern his possible meaning. He knew there was a specific answer that Brian was looking for, but had no idea what it was. 

"Yes," Monson answered, acting more confident than he felt, but also thinking he had an indisputable fact that proved their greatness.

Brian's face reflected a polite interest that plainly told Monson to go on. Monson obliged, "I think you need to look at all the different things they were responsible for. I mean, if you think about it, there is hardly an area of science, philosophy or religion that the Romans didn't have at least some influence over."

"Yes, that is true," Brian said with a wry smile. "But how were they able to accomplish all of those great things?"

Monson paused for a moment, unsure of the question's meaning. Brian gave him an understanding smile, "Let me ask you this: Do you think the
people
the Romans conquered thought they were
great
?"

The answer was obvious.

"Probably not," Monson answered tentatively.

"Exactly." Brian looked amused. "Yes, we have many great things from the Romans. Their accomplishments were far-reaching, even everlasting, but their crimes were just as, if not more, far-reaching and everlasting. Always remember, winners are the ones who write the history. There are two sides to every story, but more often than not, we are only party to one side." 

"I guess I never really thought about it," Monson commented, taken aback.

"It certainly does make you think, does it not? History is supposed to be about the truth and facts. One should not be illustrating any particular action in any particular light, but instead relaying events and analyzing observable facts." Brian gestured toward the wall. "Now answer me this, young Master Grey: What if the artist had been able to immortalize the innocent people who died in both battle and siege? The women and children who lost fathers, husbands and brothers in the fury of pointless conflict, or the pain suffered by those who had lost all hope, faith and the will to live because of a cause they neither knew nor understood? Now
that
would be a picture worthy of admiration.”

"Brian," Monson said, again puzzled, "what exactly do you do here?"

"Oh, I apologize, where are my manners?!" Brian chuckled. "I started to ramble." He adopted a slightly more formal tone, one that sounded a great deal like Mr. Gatt. "My dear Hero, I am thy manservant."

Monson thought he heard wrong. "I'm sorry. You're my what?"

"Thy manservant."

"And what the bloody hell is that?" Monson said, exasperated. Why did it seem that everyone at this school was reluctant to give him a straight answer?

"As
Horum Vir
, you are given certain privileges and responsibilities." Brian adjusted the bags he was carrying for Monson and smoothly pulled out a small envelope, removed a blue key card, and stopped in front of a great oak door.

"I am at the same time a privilege and responsibility. I am here to make sure that you fulfill your responsibilities and that you take full advantage of your privileges."

"Responsibilities?" Monson grimaced. "That sounds awfully unpleasant."

"Yes, responsibilities can be unpleasant.” Brian winked at him. "Then again, privileges can more than make up for this."

In one fluid motion, the door opened without a sound.

"Whoa," was all Monson said as Brian slid through and stepped aside. Monson followed. He was instantly impressed.

Monson walked into a handsome sitting area where oversized leather sitting chairs and a sofa were carefully arranged around a sturdy oak coffee table. Sizable floor lamps stood on either side of the chairs, dousing the area with mounds of soft light. Adjacent to the sitting area was a large wooden entertainment center, completely self-contained behind wooden shutters. On the other side of the room, a double window covered by a handsome shade of horizontal slats sat between two sets of double doors.

"Welcome to your quarters." Brian set the bags down and walked over to the window. He opened it to reveal a breathtaking view of the grounds and national forest at the edge of Coren's property. "This is where you'll be staying during your time here. Feel free to explore."

Monson was happy to oblige.

He moved freely, stopping periodically when he found something of interest. He noticed that besides the sitting area, which could easily be used for entertaining, there was a wet bar, complete with a refrigerator and an assortment of laborsaving appliances. Upon closer inspection, he realized the wet bar was more akin to a small kitchen, and although it wasn't large, it appeared to be fairly well equipped. He also noticed a control panel with commands such as "lights," “music” and “movies.” Monson suspected this was a sort of voice-activated feature, as there weren’t any buttons, just a large speaker located in the middle of the panel. It was all very cool.

"Brian, what can you tell me about this position that I have?" Monson walked to one of the plush leather chairs and sat down, looking at Brian intently. "In one day I’ve gone from being the winner of a scholarship, to attending a school—a good school–but a school nonetheless, to being a rock star. You spoke of the responsibilities; what exactly are they expecting me to do?"

"Master Grey," Brian bowed slightly, "I would be happy to enlighten you, but not right now. You still have many a thing to do. You need to eat something and rest."

He turned back to Monson. "Though I am curious, why did you not read the information packet you received after you won the Knowledge Bowl?" 

Monson flushed.  He really didn't want to talk about that.

"It's a long story."

Brian did not pursue the subject, but rather beckoned Monson to follow him. He walked to the left side of the room to one set of double oak doors, and with a flick of his wrist, opened them to reveal Monson's bedroom. And what a bedroom it was.

It was spacious, but not ostentatiously so. A massive four-poster bed carved of redwood, complete with silk hangings, dominated the center of the room. A nightstand and dresser to either side of the marvelous bed completed the picture. A half-opened doorway directly to Monson's left revealed a huge bathroom. To the right was a large bay window. Monson looked around the room in awe. What kind of lives were these people living that they could offer such opulence to one such as he?

Brian was next to the bed parting the curtains.

One look at a fluffy comforter and mountains of pillows, and Monson lost his self-control. He ran and jumped, spinning in mid-air to land on his back in the center of the bed.  He kicked off his shoes as he sunk into the mattress.