Leon dropped his captured Samarid sixth-tier warrior on a hill several miles out from the Samar side of Ariminium, close to the Gulf.  The man, disoriented from the rapid capture and subsequent flight, hit the ground and almost rolled all the way down the hill.  In those few seconds before he managed to stop himself, two things happened: first, Leon alighted at the top of the hill, transformed back into his human form, and dressed himself; second, a water dragon erupted from the Gulf and bolted up the grassy hill.

The man was able to struggle back to his feet just in time to fire off one small burst of fire from his hands at the oncoming water dragon, only for his fire to splash harmlessly across its aqueous form.  The water dragon then crashed into him, consuming him entirely and carrying him back to Leon at the top of the hill.

From the side of the water dragon, Maia emerged, a smug smile on her face, which quickly vanished after joining Leon and the two slipped into business mode.  Once they were ready, their prisoner was shifted through the interior of the water dragon—he was still ineffectually trying to burn his way out, but he simply didn’t have the power to compete against Maia—until his head poked out of the dragon’s side.

Immediately, he began to shout and curse in his native language, which neither Leon nor Maia could speak.  After a moment of futile struggling, though, he seemed to force himself to calm down and asked in the common tongue, “What is this?”

His accent was rough; he was clearly not used to making the sounds of Aeterna’s common language.  However, he was perfectly understandable.

“We’re looking for someone,” Leon explained, deliberately keeping his tone and accent as light and neutral as he could manage.

However, the Samarid then spat on the ground at Leon’s feet and growled, “You sound like a northern cow.”

Leon smiled magnanimously, walked up to the Samarid, and then backhanded him across the face so hard that as Leon took a couple steps back, the Samarid spat out some blood and a couple teeth.  This wasn’t how Leon wanted to conduct an interrogation, but he still needed to establish who was in charge if they were to get anywhere.

“Let’s not let things get too unpleasant,” Leon said.  “Treat me with respect, and with respect shall I treat you.  I have no quarrel with you—at least, I hope I don’t.  And if you tell me what I want to know, then you will be let go without further violence.  Does that sound amenable to you?”

The Samarid glared at Leon, his deep brown eyes filled with hatred, but as he took more time to take in Leon and Maia’s auras, and more time to examine the situation he found himself in, he eventually relented.

Leon questioned him thoroughly, and an hour later, once he had all the information he felt he needed, he let the Samarid go, though not before leaving him with a threat of a return if he found the information unreliable…

---

“It’s about as we thought,” Leon explained to Elise and Valeria back in Ariminium.  “Asiya and her parents have been taken west to Samar.  Seems to be by ship, and a fast one at that since neither I nor Maia could detect it after these couple of days.”

Elise bit her fingernail in frustration as her eyes stared unfocused in a westerly direction.  Valeria was a little more directed, and she stared at a map of the coast of the Samar Kingdom.

Leon and his family were alone in the guest house, though only in the next room awaited Leon’s retinue.  About as Leon had expected, Aquillius had eventually won out against Minerva and Cristina, and no direct military response was going to be forthcoming.  Instead, he was going to send a large diplomatic delegation to Samar to discuss the issue and work on freeing Asiya while Minerva coordinated with the Consul of the Gulf to step up the Bull Kingdom’s patrols in the Gulf of Discord.

Still, Asiya was to remain in Samarid hands, and that was something that Leon couldn’t abide.  She was like a sister to Elise and Valeria, and though he held no direct relation to the Samarid woman, he wasn’t going to let her go just like that; firstly because his lovers would never forgive him for not using the power at his command to rescue their friend; and secondly because he knew that if he were ever to become a King in his own right, to take up the mantle lost by his Clan eighty thousand years ago, he couldn’t just leave someone even tangentially related to him behind.

To that end, he’d called up his retinue and had them prepare for a fight.  In these months since the campaign against the Serpentine Islanders, everyone had made suitable progress, but none had ascended in magical tier.  However, Leon thought them ready for this—even if they weren’t, though, he needed them to see him free Asiya.  He needed them to know that if he were willing to go so far for someone with only tangential connections to him, then he would be willing to go much farther for each one of them.

This would be as much a test of him as it would be for them.  First, though, they had to physically locate Asiya.

“They could be anywhere along the coast,” Valeria said as she gestured at the map.  “They could’ve stopped somewhere for supplies, maybe?”

“They didn’t stop at all,” Leon growled as he took a look at the map for himself.  “They waited two days before sending official word back to Ariminium of Asiya’s capture.  With the fastest ship I’d think they could reasonably have, that’s just enough time to reach Samar.”  As he spoke, Leon traced the coast with his finger all the way to the Samar Kingdom’s capital city, located on the coast of the Gulf of Discord.  “She’s probably there already…”

“How are we to get there, then?” Elise wondered aloud.

“Maia and I can get there tonight if we have to,” Leon said, though his tone indicated he didn’t think it the wisest course of action.  “Anzu might be able to carry two people that far and that fast, but it would exhaust him.  We could rampage throughout Samar looking for her, but…”

“Hardly our best option,” Valeria finished for him, and Leon nodded.

“Eighth-tier or not, numbers will eventually bring us down, and they have just as many seventh-tier mages as the Bull Kingdom does.  Indiscriminate violence is still an answer, but let’s just call that Plan Z, for now.”  Other than that, Leon was wary of attracting the ire of an entire Kingdom.  Such an act could hurt him in more ways than one—for instance, other Kingdoms, and even the Empires themselves, might not take too kindly to him acting without restraint.  It would likely also imperil his ability to join Heaven’s Eye, who were bound to remain politically neutral.

So, no, he didn’t want to just start indiscriminately killing his way through the Samar Kingdom.  If possible, he’d prefer it if they’d just give Asiya back.  If they didn’t, then he’d be willing to slaughter his way through the desert Kingdom, but…

He grimaced at the thought.

“There’s hardly much other choice, is there?” Valeria whispered in dejection.  “Everything else will take too long.  It’s already been days, and we don’t even know if she’s still alive…”

Valeria’s words brought the already fairly depressed mood in the room down even further.  Leon had no words to give in comfort, but he reached out and squeezed Valeria and Elise’s hands.

“There’s nothing that Heaven’s Eye can do?” Leon inquired of Elise, despite knowing her answer already.  She confirmed it when she shook her head in the negative.  Leon nodded in acknowledgment, and then asked only one more question.  “How easy would it be to rent or buy a fast boat?”

---

Leon’s retinue pushed out of Ariminium in a small, but fast ship big enough for a permanent crew of about fifteen.  It was about as cramped as Leon could expect, but it was sleek and had a shallow draft, allowing it to slide across the top of the Gulf with ease and great speed.  Even better, it had both a mast for wind propulsion and magic engines that used water magic to augment its speed.

After inspecting it, Anshu had reported to Leon that not only would his retinue be more than enough to get it moving, but it would also be quick enough to reach Samar in about two and a half days, assuming they stopped to rest.  They might be able to get there in less than two if they pushed through the night and didn’t care what that rush might do to the ship.

Leon was pleased, and since he didn’t much care for the ship, he ordered his retinue to make all possible haste, regardless of the long-term damage the ship sustained.  He let Anshu take over the ship, gave everyone orders to meet up in a small inlet about twenty miles away from the outskirts of Samar, and then he and Maia flew and swam ahead.

They reached the capital of the Samar Kingdom a little after noon the following day, and Leon had to slow down and marvel at the city that sprawled out before him.  It wasn’t nearly as large as the Bull Kingdom’s capital, but that much was to be expected—a Kingdom consisting of largely desert, even with the aid of magic, couldn’t sustain a large population.  Still, Samar had to have at least a quarter million residents, and the roads leading to it were crowded with merchants, as was the city’s port.

Most of the city, in contrast to the Samarid sister city to Ariminium, was made of tan sandstone cut into huge blocks that practically glowed in the light of the sun.  The lion’s share of the buildings themselves were built in boxy shapes, though there were a few poorer-looking districts where the perfect symmetry that could be seen in other parts of the city broke down and the sandstone was far more weathered and aged.

Many of the buildings were painted, and after flying above the city for a while and inspecting it with his magic senses on his way in, Leon was able to determine a pattern: it seemed that private businesses were painted in various hues of red, residential apartments and townhouses were painted in all kinds of greens, and government buildings were either light sky-blue or pristine white, depending on size.  He guessed there were probably more nuances to the system, but he could neither read the Samar language, nor understand most of what was being said within the city.

The upper-class districts, meanwhile, were made of the same black glass that he’d now associated with the Samar people and their architecture, with the more unwieldy glossy material leading to more natural and curving shapes to the buildings than what was seen in other parts of the city.

The city’s layout as a whole was largely built in a half-circle emanating from the coast, with an enormous palace complex sitting in the center, from which flowed no less than four good-sized rivers in the four cardinal directions.  These were clearly created with powerful water magic since the city’s surroundings, while fairly green from a distance, were still relatively dry.  The greenery that could be seen was mostly from various palm trees and other desert plants that never grew particularly tall.  So, these four rivers flowing from the palace seemed to be the city’s only water source.

The rivers flowing in great curving canals that, from the air, looked to be perfectly circular, and Leon found himself admiring how they not only ensured that every person, no matter where they were in the city, was no more than a few blocks away from one of these canals, but that the wide channels also acted as moats, separating the city into more easily-defensible districts.  The canals were wide enough to allow small boats to enter and traverse the city, facilitating trade and travel, while numerous bridges connected each city segment to the others—each of these bridges were, in turn, secured by walls, imposing gatehouses, and towers at both ends.

The core of the city was surrounded on all sides by curved walls a dozen stories tall and dotted with watchtowers, though unlike the towers along the bridges, the walls were sparsely garrisoned, save for the massive gatehouse on the eastern side, where it seemed the palace guards were barracked, and where the palace’s main entrance was located.

The land to the west of the city seemed entirely devoted to agriculture, as fields stretched for miles along the thin strip of the western coast where the growth of food was possible, shielded mostly from view from the Gulf by a thick screen of natural vegetation.

If Leon could’ve smiled in his avian form, he would’ve.  ‘Seems they don’t want the Bull Kingdom spying on them from the north…’ he thought with amusement.  The plane of Aeterna was flat, so a Legion spy could stand on the southern shores of the Bull Kingdom, and if they were strong enough to see so far with any clarity, the natural screens and walls of the city would prevent them from seeing much of the Samar Kingdom’s heartland.

The Bull Kingdom didn’t have that problem; the southern coast was much rockier and swampier, making settled cities a little harder to come by.  Aside from the six merchant cities on the southern coast, there wasn’t much of interest that was directly adjacent to the Gulf—Ariminium aside, of course.

[Maia,] Leon whispered, [do you see her?]

After his initial evaluation of Samar, he started scanning the city with his magic senses as inconspicuously as he could.  Those with any power within the city would probably still be able to sense his probes if they were paying attention, but he didn’t want to make himself too obvious by bathing the city in his magic power.  Whether it was because of that, or because Asiya was somewhere his power couldn’t reach, he couldn’t find his wife and lover’s bubbly friend.

[No,] his river nymph lover quickly replied.

He couldn’t scowl, but he tried to, anyway.  The rest of his retinue was still several hours from their rendezvous point, and he didn’t want to do anything too rash before they got into place.  Even if he found Asiya, he balked at carrying her all the way back to Ariminium on his back, especially after losing one feather catching Princess Cristina when she fell.

[Think the direct approach would be best?] Leon wondered.

[I’d certainly appreciate it…] Maia whispered.

Again, he tried to scowl and succeeded only in furthering his frustration.

[Stay out in the bay,] Leon replied.  [I can see into some parts of the palace, but not all of them.  I can’t say for certain what kind of wards they may have.  Better to have a contingency.]

[What are you doing?]

[I’m going to go knock,] Leon replied, and he started to dive.  It was only polite to ask, after all, and maybe they would just let him have Asiya back if he showed them a bit of courtesy.  He was an eighth-tier mage, and they might just cave into his demands if he made his desires known.

He could feel Maia’s acceptance, but also some frustration of her own.  She wanted to be here with him; he could feel that, but he’d rather she hung back a bit and keep her presence and power secret.  He may be taking the direct path, but he still wanted more than just a few semi-powerful retainers who were still several hours away up his sleeve if push came to shove.

He’d been flying extremely high above the city—more than a mile, in fact.  Some of his senses were duller in his avian form—such as his sense of smell—but his eyesight had been greatly strengthened, even by his eighth-tier standards.  Nothing escaped his notice from so high in the air, not even when the occasional cloud drifted by between him and the ground.

There weren’t that many clouds in the sky.  They were close to the Gulf, so it wasn’t like the sky was completely clear, but the heat and general dryness of the Samar Kingdom didn’t lend itself well to much precipitation.  It was an almost depressingly sunny place, one that Leon found quite beautiful, but also somewhat sterile and uncomfortable.  He didn’t think he could ever get comfortable in a place that didn’t often rain.

Speaking of, as he rapidly descended, he allowed his aura to spill forth.  After gaining the ability to transform, the Thunderbird had been teaching him how to manipulate the weather around him, to seize control of the ambient magic and make use of it rather than relying entirely on his own stores of magic power.  He was still learning the basics, but he’d picked up on a few flashy, if not particularly powerful tricks.

He didn’t need wind magic to sustain his dive, so he switched to water magic as he plummeted, letting it spill from his body in great torrents as he descended and joining with the water magic already in the air and aiding him in seizing control of it.  He’d been flying so high that he hadn’t been that conspicuous, but now he was actively drawing attention, for behind him grew a great storm cloud.  It wasn’t that big by any means, but it was far more than just about any mage outside of the Four Empires might be able to create—and it only grew bigger as he descended upon the Samar Kingdom’s Royal Palace.

By the time he reached less than five hundred feet from the ground, he switched back to wind magic, using it to break his dive and to send many Samar guardsmen down below scattering.  They’d noticed his blatant announcement of arrival and had started scrambling to assemble, but the gale-force winds that his wings created practically cleared the courtyard just inside the main gate of the Sultan’s palace of all living souls.  People screamed in shock and fear, and he justified their reactions by letting his killing intent spike and radiate throughout the palace as his talons touched the smooth white marble of the courtyard, his back to the main gate, ignoring the slam of its massive doors of enchanted oak slammed shut behind him.

Then, to complete the picture, he conjured a powerful cyclone around him, kicking up so much dust that he was completely obscured from non-magical view, which let him transform back into his human body and dress himself in just a moment.  In his human form, his wind magic lost much of its potency and the storm cloud above started to dissipate, but he used one last pulse of magic to cause a bolt of golden lightning to gather in the cloud, then strike the top of the courtyard’s main gatehouse that guarded the only bridge to the Royal Palace from the city.  It was much louder than it was dangerous, having about as much damage potential within it as a lightning bolt he might’ve thrown when he was in the fifth-tier, but it was quite eye-catching, and that’s what he wanted right now.

Leon smiled as the cyclone around him dissipated and the dust began to settle.  He kicked up quite the ruckus, but he was confident that no one had been even moderately injured, though the gatehouse had taken some damage from his lightning bolt.

Still, the Royal Palace’s guardsmen didn’t seem to appreciate his restraint, as hundreds of them then spilled out into the courtyard, all heavily armed and armored.  Most wielded spears, and all had gilded sabers attached at their waists.  Their armor was beautiful golden scaled plate over a suit of mail that even covered their faces, while their heads were protected by heavily decorated and gilded conical helmets.

Then three warriors appeared; the first, appearing in a blaze of fire as he landed in the courtyard directly in front of Leon, having jumped over from somewhere else in the palace; the second leaped over the walls behind him using the water from the canal-moat separating the palace from the city, landing on Leon’s right and glaring at Leon with dispassionate warning in her eyes; the third appeared from a great pillar of stone that erupted from the ground to Leon’s left, her skin mottled and gray from having hardened into stone.  All three were warriors of the seventh-tier, and they and the rest of the relatively high-tiered guardsmen—numbering at least a thousand in the courtyard, and at least several thousand more mobilizing in other areas of the palace—surrounded Leon on three sides, while the fortified gatehouse blocked him from behind.

Despite this, as Leon looked around at these people, he smiled with the ease of a man in complete control of the situation and said, “I’d like to request an audience with your Sultan, if possible.”

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