Stormhollow was a large city.  Unlike Raikos, it was populated at all times rather than only serving as a meeting place for any Tribe’s constituent Clans.  The massive lake in the center of Kataigida, which the Central Empires called the Lake of the Feathered Demon, yet which the Ten Tribes called Lake Ontarii, was of extremely significant strategic importance to all the Ten Tribes, and Stormhollow completely dominated it.  As a result, while the site of the city had once been Jaguar territory, the Jaguars had ceded the land to the city itself as it was settled by representatives from all Ten Tribes.  It was self-governing day-to-day, but it was still subject to the Elder Council.

‘And, therefore, the Thunderer,’ Hector thought as he stared out over the city from the hill upon which the Elder Hall had been built.

The Elder Hall was a massive gathering hall built reminiscent of the Tribal style, yet instead of a long hall with two rows of terraced benches along its longer sides and a raised dais at the far end for the Lawspeaker or whoever presided over the tribal councils, the Elder Hall was a circular building capped with a magnificent silver dome.  The top of the walls and base of the dome had been trimmed with lapis lazuli, and the ceiling of the dome was adorned with a massive fresco depicting the glories of past eras, most of which did not belong to the Ten Tribes.

Instead, most of what was depicted on the ceiling fresco that would stand above all meetings of the Elder Council were scenes of conquest under the Thunderbird, few of which, if any, the Ten Tribes could recognize these days.  In the center of the fresco was the Thunderbird itself, surrounded by deep black clouds that radiated silver-blue lightning outward, drawing the eye to the most important scenes, only one of which Hector himself could identify as the first Elder Council that ratified the confederation of their Ten Tribes so long ago.

The rest of the Elder Hall was taken up by the seating for ten thousand people arranged in an ascending circle around a massive speaker’s platform.  There were no seats on the platform, for it was not for Kings or any other monarch.

Behind the seats were huge trees brought from the Nexus, fed with nature magic.  The trees were of two different, but complementary species; the first had dark, nearly pitch-black bark and some of the brightest and most brilliantly green leaves that Hector had ever seen; the second type was stranger, with pale white bark and deep, twilight blue leaves.

The entire chamber was given an almost ethereal feel with floating lights, arranged in an alternating pattern of silver and blue.  The natural light that was fed into the room through arched windows along the base of the dome and the chamber’s door-less entrances did little to dampen that feel.

Rarely was the chamber filled, with the Elder Council meeting perhaps once or twice a year at the most, once every two or three years more commonly.  All Tribes had the right to call the Elder Council to assemble, but although two Tribes’ elders were present, that wasn’t why they’d come to Stormhollow.

Sitting in one of the ten seating sections were a large handful of tall, thin, and pale men, all clean-shaven and with sharp, defined features and dark hair.  Their eyes, pupil and sclera both, were pitch-black, the divide between the two barely visible even in the best light.  They might’ve been mistaken for vampires save for the lack of fangs and demonic auras.  They were all clad in either black or brown, and none of their clothing had any additional adornment.

The other group of elders were practically their complete opposites: about twenty powerful mages, all built like they’d been carved from marble and all sporting long braided red hair.  The men of this group had thick, bushy beards and wore golden arm rings.  The women, meanwhile, wore golden torcs, but both sexes wore fur-trimmed armor that looked more fashionable than functional as the elders showed off large tracts of skin, putting their heavily-muscled physiques on full display.

The former were the elders of the Ji Spiders, while the latter were of the Booming Brown Bears.  Both Tribes’ full complement of elders hadn’t come, but those who had were their most powerful and influential.

Standing in the center of the chamber was the Thunderer himself wearing the black and gold uniform he’d had designed and a carefully constructed neutral expression, which he maintained as both groups of elders argued vociferously against the Jaguars and their puppet.

The debate about how to handle the situation had started fairly peacefully.  The elders had arrived not long after the Thunderer returned from Raikos, with each having decided to come of their own accord after hearing the news of the Jaguars’ discovery.  Each also advocated for similar strategies, from storming the Jaguars’ territory to arrest and execute the pretender, or to put on such a grand display of their force of arms that the Jaguars would have no option but to capitulate and surrender.

Hector was personally in favor of the former, with the thought of driving into the perennially-recalcitrant Jaguars’ land and making them see that their traditions wouldn’t stop progress bringing a smile to his lips.  The Thunderer, however, was noncommittal on that topic.

The debate, which had gone on for several days already, didn’t get truly heated until word came from Raikos that the Eagles had declared for the pretender, as well.  Hector could hardly believe that a second Tribe had fallen for the scheme, so he’d wracked his brain trying to think of what the Jaguars might’ve promised the Eagles in return for their support.  Given what they were going up against—namely, the Thunderer’s new army and his strong alliance among the eastern Tribes—he couldn’t see what could make that declaration worth it that the Jaguars had the power to give.

And yet, despite this news, the Thunderer remained soft-spoken and moderate in speech.

“… are the ones demanding violence!” one of the Bear elders roared, living up to the name of his Tribe, for if it weren’t for the chamber’s powerful enchantments protecting it, Hector would’ve expected it to shake down to its foundations.  “We must be ready!  No one brings a claimant to a throne that has gone vacant for so long and doesn’t mean violence!”

“Good cousin,” one of the other Bears—this one ninth-tier and about seven hundred years old if Hector recalled correctly—said directly to the Thunderer instead of the other elders, “This is an existential crisis that we face!  The Jaguars are already gaining in strength!  This is nothing less than treason against the order that has existed now for tens of thousands of years!  We must act!”

“And we will,” the Thunderer softly insisted, though his aura pulsed outward in a display that was decidedly less than soft and showcased his slowly-growing anger and frustration.

Hector could understand it intellectually, but if he weren’t barred from the chamber and forced to remain just outside the entrance where he could barely listen in, he would’ve—and had in private multiple times in the past few days—been in there arguing with the Bears.

“It’s clear to me,” the Thunderer continued, “that the alliances which we’ve built are not sufficient.  In truth, this has been clear to me for many years, now, with the complaints coming from the Jaguars being echoed both loudly and quietly in other corners of our fair island.  The Spiders, Bears, and our friends in the Tigers, have done much to help raise the Ten Tribes out of their curse of factionalism, but this isn’t enough!

“I will go to the other Tribes personally to ensure that all we’ve built Is not undone!”  The Thunderer paused and glared around the room, though Hector noticed his eyes lingering on his own kith and kin.  “But before I depart, I will warn all of you of the dangers of keeping ourselves divided!  We are all different Tribes, yes, and we bear different powers, yes, but we are all one people!”

“Clearly, we aren’t,” a ninth-tier Spider angrily responded, his high-pitched voice coming out quickly and with a rather jerky cadence.  “The Jaguars would keep us all separate!  They will never stop opposing your ideals, and the time is coming when they will have to be convinced by means other than words!”

“I will hear no words of civil war!” the Thunderer thundered, his voice doing what the other Bear elder’s could not and shaking the Elder Hall slightly.  “If there is to be war, then they will have to strike first!  I have given my word to keep this disagreement political and to convince the other Tribes of the merits of our work with the merits of our work!  To attack the Jaguars and Leon Raime right now would only convince the other Tribes that we have nothing of value to argue with, save for our strength of arms!”

“Force is argument enough!” an eighth-tier Bear elder declared, and many of the elders stomped their feet in approval.

“I will show you differently,” the Thunderer growled, and the elder paled as the Thunderer’s tenth-tier aura settled around him, exerting pressure.  “When the other Tribes declare for our side, you will all see.  This meeting is adjourned.”

With that, the Thunderer stalked out of the chamber, his neutral expression shifting into one more wrathful than serene.

Hector was about to follow him when he heard one of the Spider elders say once the Thunderer had left, “We must prepare anyway.  War is coming, but our Tribe, at least, will not be caught with webs half-spun just because our Thunderer is unwilling to strike a decisive blow against our clear enemy!”

“We have already begun mobilization,” one of the ninth-tier Bears responded.  “When the Jaguars make their move, we will be ready.”

“We don’t have much time,” another Spider said.  “There are reports that the pretender is already planning to head to the Hawks to solicit their support for his coup.  Two treasonous Tribes are enough!  Three would demand a more active response!”

“We will not return to monarchy!” another Bear elder added, all the other elders making sounds of support that grew louder the farther away the Thunderer moved.

Hector smiled in anticipation.  He and Lysander had dreamed big when they were kids, and though his one-time friend had set those dreams aside along with his name, Hector never had.  He would aid the Thunderer in bringing the Ten Tribes back to glory, and he would enjoy seeing ‘the Jaguar of the West’s’ reaction when all of it was done, even if that reaction had to come after stomping his damned Tribe down into the dirt.

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The mountains to the south of the Jaguar Tribe were extensive, running along the entire southern coast of Kataigida.  They were thick and almost impenetrable, but far from inhospitable.  Much like the Frozen Mountains and the Northern Vales within, the mountains that the Central Empires called the Devil’s Spine had wide valleys carved into them by the hands of nature and powerful mages alike.

It was deep within those snow-capped peaks, forested valleys, idyllic mountain lakes and streams, that Leon found the Tribe descended from the Heart-Stabbing Hawks.  The Hawks dominated almost the entire mountain range, making their territory long and narrow, but filled with great natural resources from minerals to animal hides.  They were a proud people, Leon had been told, great hunters and aloof around outsiders.  He shouldn’t expect much welcome among them.

Neither the Jaguar of the West nor Nikolaos could accompany him south, but it was a short journey and he still had a relatively large escort of one hundred powerful Jaguar mages and a couple Eagle elders acting as his escort, along with his retinue.  As they flew southward, Leon had Red and Anzu transform into their beastly forms to make their entourage that much more impressive.

As they flew, he observed the landscape below him grow rougher and rougher as his party ventured further and further away from the relatively flat plains that dominated the center of Kataigida.  He couldn’t help but relax as the land below grew more and more mountainous and more and more forested.  He’d lived longer in cities than he’d had in the Forest of Black and White at this point, but nothing could make him feel like he was coming home than the fresh scent of wild mountains and wilder forests.

And the landscape below was quite wild, with only the occasional village he could see here and there.  For the most part, as his escorts explained to him during the journey, the Jaguars didn’t live in large cities, mostly scattering about and living alone or in fairly small villages, which was the biggest reason why Raikos was such a transient city.

However, even these small villages shrank as they moved into the mountains and Hawk territory.  The Hawks were much more communal than the Jaguars, living in larger kin groups, but they preferred to pack themselves into dense apartments and large longhouses, rarely needing more than two or three per village.

As they flew, Leon noticed that they drew plenty of attention.  The Hawks were short and stocky, but nearly all of their mages practiced wind magic, allowing them to fly much earlier than other mages might.  As a result, it wasn’t that rare of a sight for Leon’s group to be suddenly surrounded by a hundred Hawks as they flew over a village wondering who they were and where they were going.  Every time, Leon’s party would explain that they were on their way to Raikoraki, the capital of the Hawk Tribe, and whatever mages had flown up to greet them would accompany them for several miles before returning to their village.

The mountains were quite misty, scenically so, so it wasn’t until they were relatively right on top of Raikoraki that Leon laid his eyes upon the city—which was only when they drew to within a few hundred miles of the place.  It had first been built upon a series of rocky plateaus, with the largest and most important estates and public spaces built there, but the city had long since outgrown its more humble beginnings.  It sprawled out—as much as a Hawk city could sprawl given how close together they lived—across the valley floor.  A large mountain river passed through the center of the city, bringing more than enough water down into the wide valley’s many farms.

As they approached the city, another delegation was sent out to meet them, this time a group of eighth-tier mages and about a hundred seventh and sixth-tier mages.  The eighth-tier mages only numbered eight, but all were fairly aged, appearing about fifty or sixty years old by mortal standards at the youngest.

“Greetings!” the leading elder—for they were too old and strong to be anything but an elder—called out as he halted in mid-air and raised a hand.

Leon’s party halted as well several hundred feet away, but Leon continued onward, meeting the elder about two or three dozen feet in front of him.  “I am Leon Raime!” Leon loudly declared as a thick blanket of dark storm clouds appeared over him, his magic inundating the sky.  “I have come to speak with your Tribal council!”

He called upon the Thunderbird’s power and a bolt of bright silver-blue lightning fell from the sky between Leon and the elder before arcing back upwards and vanishing back into the clouds.

“By the winged grace…” Leon heard one of the sixth-tier mages mutter, the sentiment echoed throughout not only their group but also down in the startled city.

Taking a deep breath, Leon then roared, his voice backed up with his ninth-tier power, “THE THUNDERBIRD HAS RETURNED TO THE TEN TRIBES!”

The elders hardly seemed too surprised, but Leon could see surprise and awe on the faces of many of those accompanying them, and as his voice echoed around Raikoraki, that same shock rippled through the populace.

After a moment of silence, the leading Hawk elder said, “That was… unnecessary…”

Leon just smiled back at him.

After another uncomfortable moment of silence, the elder then lowered his head slightly and said, “Please, follow me.  Our Tribal council is eager to meet with you.”

“As am I to meet with them,” Leon responded as he gestured back at his waiting party.  “I come with Jaguars and Eagles.”

That news elicited a curious look from the Hawk elder, but he didn’t say anything he flew down toward the gathering hall on the highest plateau.

It was a magnificent building, if not overly large.  Made of enchanted timber and covered in hawkish art, the hall was surrounded by colorful gardens and insulated by large trees.  Many of those trees had been grown in such a way as to resemble perches, upon which platforms had been built for many other powerful Hawks had posted up.

The building itself was more open than the Jaguar’s, with only a few load-bearing walls and columns, leaving the seats and elders within them exposed, though not to the elements as the enchantments woven into the hall’s surroundings kept the entire plateau quite temperate.  Instead, it exposed the elders and whatever they might be discussing to whoever wanted to listen in from the nearby perches, and there was space for several thousand, at least.

Already, as Leon and his party descended upon the hall, thousands of people were rushing toward the hall, and Leon could already tell that this was going to be a much larger deal than his meetings with the Jaguars and Eagles had been.

He smiled as he neared the hall’s forecourt, pausing to circle about their Tribal Totem several times in a show of reverence, and landed.  Putting on a kingly mask, he then strode into the Hawks’ gathering hall projecting both his aura and his confidence, though the former he restrained it to not be uncomfortable to those weaker than him, and the latter he boosted to make an impression.

There were only a few elders present, perhaps only forty or fifty, but he still took a deep breath as he crossed the hall’s threshold and made for the dais at the hall’s far end.

‘All right,’ he thought to himself.  ‘Already got two Tribes on my side, let’s go three for three.’

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