Stormhollow was a rather different city compared to what Leon had seen so far on Kataigida.  It was most like the Raimondas, the capital of the Screaming Eagles in that it was dense and always populated, as opposed to the more open and sprawling Raichaiti or the only transiently occupied Raikos.  The architecture of its largest buildings reflected the cosmopolitan heart of the Ten Tribes with influences from all Tribes present, but the Jaguars’ style was clearly dominant.  It made sense, however, for the city had once belonged to the Jaguars before it had been given autonomy by the Elder Council.

The land around the city was largely flat with the massive Lake Ontarii on its northeast and a river feeding the lake cutting through the city, separating the wealthier western suburbs from the urban core in the east.  That river separated the western third of Jaguar territory from the rest and stretched all the way south to the mountains of the Heart-Stabbing Hawks.

The only hill of any size in the city was a relatively large one close to the center where a massive dome stood, with white marble walls, a silver roof, and all trimmed in lapis lazuli.

‘The Elder Hall,’ Leon grimly thought.  It would be there in just a few days’ time that the future of the Ten Tribes would be decided.

He stood upon a hill about twenty miles west of Stormhollow’s outskirts.  Thirteen of the eighteen days before the Elder Council would meet had elapsed.  It had taken him most of that time to assemble all of the Hart elders and all their attendants and get moving from Raithellion, move south down the large river that nearly all rivers in the north of the island merged into, and reach Raichaiti in Lion territory.  There, he and his people waited for a couple days as Menander, Xanthippe, and the other Lions assembled and joined his party, and together, he and these two Tribes continued south.

The Jaguars, being closest to Stormhollow, had beaten him there, though none had entered the city proper yet.  Instead, they’d encamped to the west on the hill that Leon now stood upon and waited for his arrival.  Leon had been in close contact with his allies the entire way, and he and Nikolaos had agreed that when his faction finally entered Stormhollow, it wouldn’t do for anyone but him to be in the lead.

And so, he and his party joined the Jaguars on that hill and stared at Stormhollow.

That had been only a few hours before, and while he was giving his people time to get settled in to wait only a few days more, Leon had taken the opportunity to observe Stormhollow from a distance.

And he was impressed.  It outshone the Bull Kingdom’s capital in every metric.  It lacked the massive golden towers or palace-trees of Ilion and Evergold, but it was still a beautiful city, one that Leon found aesthetically pleasing.  It was built on an extremely rational grid with most apartments and building complexes integrating public parks into their design.  The people looked happy and wealthy, and while it stood to reason that most people in the city belonged to the Jaguar Tribe given the city’s location and history, it wasn’t visually apparent what Tribe any given citizen had been born into.

More eye-catching were the Tribes who had already made it to the city.  The Ji Spiders and Booming Brown Bears had been there almost since the moment Leon reached Kataigida several months ago.  The Tigers had arrived not long after Leon won the support of the Hawks, and the Bison Tribe followed the Thunderer to the city after the man had won their allegiance while Leon was back in Occulara.

In addition to them, to the east of the city were massive mustering grounds, barracks complexes, and arkyards.  There weren’t any arks under construction in those yards, but they were still servicing more than fifty arks of varying size—only six of which were large or armed enough to be war arks.  By his estimation, Leon thought that the army the Thunderer had in the Ten Tribes’ central capital to be no less than a hundred thousand, quite likely more.

Leon’s total party amounted to less than ten thousand, though those were elders and Chiefs, the strongest and oldest of all the tribesmen, and numerous warriors sent primarily from the Jaguars and Lions to ensure their safety.  The number gaps might even out more if the people of Stormhollow were on his side, though that couldn’t be counted on.

Not that he wasn’t trying to change that—he had plans for how to enter the city with as great of an impact as possible, while ever since his arrival, the hill he stood upon had been surrounded by black storm clouds, tempestuous winds, and eye-catching silver-blue lightning.  The thunder his lightning brought could be easily heard in the city, which was enjoying an otherwise clear and beautiful day.

“Your Majesty!” the Jaguar called out, pulling Leon right out of his thoughts.  Though the wind was strong and the thunder stronger, his voice was still clearly audible.  “We are ready!”

Leon glanced at the man over his shoulder and nodded once.  His admiration of the city could wait until later, when he wasn’t plagued by darker thoughts about what might happen within it.  After all, as confident as he was, he couldn’t predict what may or may not happen with certainty.  But he did know that the Booming Brown Bears had an army on Jaguar territory—two, if the Thunderer’s central army could be counted.

Still, he forced himself away from the slope of the hill and accompanied the Jaguar to the simple stone pavilion that had been hurriedly constructed to give Leon and the elders a place to meet and discuss matters before entering the city.  The time it had taken to build and properly ward was the main reason he hadn’t exchanged much more than pleasantries with his supporters since arriving on the hill.

Most of his Tribal allies had beaten him to the pavilion, with nearly all of the Jaguar, Hart, and Lion elders present—at least, those who weren’t still on the Sword.

“What’s our headcount so far?” Leon asked without any preamble upon entering the pavilion.

“The Jaguars have brought one hundred and thirty-three elders,” Nikolaos immediately reported.

“The Harts have ninety-one,” Sar declared.

“The Lions have twenty-two,” Menander announced.

Leon quietly sighed.  The Lions were still holding the Sword, and they had the largest presence there, too.  Thirty-seven amounted to all the elders they had on Kataigida, unfortunately, and getting those on the Sword back to the island in time for the vote was impossible.

And the Hawks were likely in a similar situation, too.

“So, if all goes well and we’re able to bring all elders on the island to Stormhollow,” Leon began, already preparing to fail to accomplish even that, “then our total count would stand at four hundred and eighty-nine, is that right?”

“One hundred and one from the Eagles, forty-four from the Hawks, and ninety-eight from the Ravens,” Nikolaos listed.

“Four hundred and eighty-nine,” Leon said. “How many can the Thunderer bring to bear?”

“We can’t say for certain,” the Jaguar said.  “The Bears haven’t brought their full complement of elders in a long while, but when the Thunderer was elected they brought seventy-nine elders to throw behind him.”

“The Bison Tribe is also still at the Sword,” Menander said.  “Though they win much glory for themselves and their Tribe, they won’t be appearing at the vote in five days.”

“How many might they have, then?” Leon asked.

“Fifty, give or take one or two,” Menander replied.

Leon nodded as he kept count.  “The Spiders and Tigers, then?”

“The Spiders have a good many elders,” Sar explained.  “They aren’t the most populous Tribe, but they aren’t that violent, either, which means their elders tend to live a little longer than some other Tribes I could mention…”

“If they wish to die ingloriously, then that’s their decision,” Xanthippe growled.  “What cowards they must be to take the safe path…  What use are claws if they rend no flesh?”

She received no answer, but Leon doubted she expected one.

“They will have one hundred and sixteen,” Sar finished.

Leon frowned in surprise as he kept track.

“The Tigers will have the most of any Tribe,” the Jaguar gravely intoned.  “More even than the Jaguars.  One hundred and forty-two.”

Leon clicked his tongue, but simply added up the total.

“Three hundred and eighty-eight, including the Thunderer,” he said.  “That’s quite the difference…”

“Indeed it is,” the Jaguar replied.  “Assuming our numbers are right.”

“The entire Eagle Tribe could stay home and we’d still tie,” Menander observed.

“Can we even tie?” Leon asked.  “What’s the protocol for that?”

“There aren’t any set rules for tie-breaking,” Nikolaos said.  “However, by tradition, we’d hold another vote.  Whether that was immediately after the first or after taking a break.  Any break taken would last no longer than a day, however.”

Leon nodded and went silent for a moment.  “The chances we have all elders available to us is slim,” he said.  “That’s the whole point of calling the Elder Council early, wasn’t it?”

He glanced around and saw only agreement.

“We are ahead of the Thunderer by one hundred and one, but that’s only on paper.  I don’t mean to insult, but I also want to float the idea of individual elders being poached.  How likely is this?”

“Ha!” Menander immediately boomed.

Almost in unison with the Lion, Nikolaos chuckled.

The Jaguar said, “Not a single Jaguar will break ranks.”

“Not one?” Leon asked.

“Not one,” the Jaguar emphasized.

“Same with my Lions,” Menander added with a vicious smirk.  “If any did, I would beat them back into line, have no doubt about that.”

Leon gave the Lion a thin-lipped smile before turning to Sar.

“The Harts know who has given them their new power,” Sar said as he flexed his aura minutely in what Leon recognized as channeling power into the transformation enchantment for less than a second.  “We have sworn ourselves to the Thunderbird—and to you, personally.”

Leon sighed.  “Keep an eye on everyone, all the same.  If I were in the Thunderer’s position, targeting anyone who seemed willing to defect for any reason would be a priority.”

Menander scoffed but Nikolaos diplomatically stated, “We will keep an eye out, Leon.  Have no fear.”

Before Leon could respond, a seventh-tier Jaguar Chief entered the pavilion and announced, “A party is heading this way from Stormhollow!  The Thunderer looks to be leading it!”

“Ha!” the Jaguar roared.  “I hope he’s come to surrender, though I doubt that’s the case!”

“More likely he’s here asking us to surrender,” Nikolaos calmly stated.  “As if a Jaguar would ever retract his claws in the face of his enemy.”

“Should we let him enter?” the Jaguar Chief asked Leon.

“Yes,” Leon said without hesitation.

He and the elders with him had been sitting in a circle, but as the Thunderer drew closer, they quickly rearranged their chairs so that they sat to Leon’s right and left.  Nikolaos even retrieved a larger, more opulent armchair from his soul realm and offered it to Leon, but Leon refused it.

When the Thunderer was shown in, he was accompanied by several eighth and ninth-tier mages that Leon took to be elders from other Tribes.  There were two red-haired Bears, three pale-skinned black-eyed Spiders, one fierce Tiger, and two burly Bison.  The Tiger, he noted, was not only wearing the same uniform that the Thunderer was, he was also staring daggers at the Jaguar.

“It’s good to see all of you here,” the Thunderer said pleasantly, though the smile he wore didn’t reach his eyes.  “A meeting of the Elder Council is always an event worth celebrating!”

Leon could sense the impatience in his elders, but as Nikolaos, Menander, and the Jaguar all made to retort, he silently whispered for them to hold back.

“It’s good to see you, too,” Leon neutrally stated.  “In truth, I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon—not before the Elder Council met, at any rate.”

The Tiger at the Thunderer’s side sneered as he briefly turned his gaze toward Leon before his eyes flitted back to the Jaguar, his aura pulsing with a few thin strands of killing intent.

“Given the circumstances, I felt it would be best to welcome you on your first visit to Stormhollow.  I assume you will be staying in the Jaguar’s district while you are here?”

“I hadn’t given much thought to my accommodations,” Leon admitted.  “More important things on my mind, you understand.”

The Thunderer grinned and nodded.  “Leon, I was hoping we could speak privately.”

Leon looked around the pavilion.  There weren’t many people within it, only his most important supporters who were present along with the Thunderer’s party.  Half of his Tempest Knights were guarding the pavilion with Tribal warriors, while the other half were with his family and retainers where his portable villa had been set up.

“We’re in private now, aren’t we?” he said, intentionally misunderstanding what the Thunderer wanted.  He wanted the Thunderer to directly state what he wanted.

“Arrogant bastard,” the Tiger whispered, though not so quietly that anyone in the pavilion failed to hear.

“You dare!” the Jaguar roared as he shot to his feet.

Before the Tiger could respond, the Thunderer’s spectacularly heavy aura descended upon him, while Leon reached out with his own aura to halt the Jaguar.  Both went quiet, but continued glaring at each other.

“Apologies for Hector,” the Thunderer said, to Leon’s somewhat muted surprise.  He’d heard of Hector but had never met the man before.  “He can be a bit impatient.  But I would prefer if we could speak just the two of us.”

He didn’t elaborate, but he kept his eyes trained unwaveringly on Leon.  Leon didn’t sense any maliciousness, however, so after turning the Thunderer’s request over in his head a few times, he silently ordered his people to exit the pavilion–but to stay close by.

He got a few questioning looks, but a confirming order had them all rising from their seats and leaving the range of the pavilion’s privacy wards.

At the same time, Leon nodded briefly to the Thunderer’s followers, and without a word, they followed suit, though the two Bison went to either side of Hector and practically escorted him beyond the wards.

The Thunderer and Leon were thusly left alone, though still visible to all.

“Not quite what I had in mind, but fine,” the Thunderer said.

“What did you want to talk about?” Leon asked as he rose from his seat and began to slowly pace about the pavilion.

The Thunderer, remaining stationary, said, “I want to urge you one last time to give up on your foolish endeavor.  The Ten Tribes don’t need a King, especially not one who would sell them out to the barbarians across the sea!”

“Are you referring to my wife?” Leon calmly asked.

With a bit more anger in his voice, the Thunderer said, “Too much blood has been spilled for us to forgive them!  We will reconquer this plane and end this fighting once and for all!”

Leon clicked his tongue in displeasure again.  “I would bring peace, an end to this conflict.  You would continue this forever war.  That I have an Imperial Princess for a wife ought to show that I’m actually capable of delivering on my promise for peace.”

“It serves as nothing more than to show you as the traitor you are.”

Leon grinned.  “Am I one of you?” he asked.

The Thunderer gave him a cold stare, his face remaining stony and expressionless, save for a slight tilting of his head.  “Some would argue ‘no’.”  His eyes briefly flickered in Hector’s direction.  “Some would even argue that you aren’t worthy to even stand in the Elder Hall.”

“So for any votes that would declare me King, you would have me wait around outside?” Leon asked.

“The matter of your Kingship is not why this council has been called,” the Thunderer stated.

“Don’t play coy with me.  Whatever happens in five days will decide whether or not it happens.  Whether the Ten Tribes makes its peace with the Empires and follows me to the Nexus or stays here with you and fights a bitter war that has lasted for nearly eighty thousand years.  I won’t be calmly perched outside preening my feathers while the votes that will determine what I am to the Ten Tribes take place!”

The Thunderer audibly sighed.  “I will not allow that.  I will not allow any of this.  You will lead the Tribes to ruin.  The barbarians cannot be trusted.  You cannot end this war.”

“My Clan started this war when we invaded this plane,” Leon growled.  “No one can end this war but me.  You can’t take the Empires.  They’re too big; too populous.  So I’ll ask you, Thunderer, to step aside.  You stand in the way of peace.”

“I am not the one demanding to be made King and provoking civil war,” the Thunderer replied.

“I would mock that statement if I were in the mood to do so,” Leon shot back.

“Letting mood dictate action is the sign of a terrible King.”

“Not letting my emotions get the better of me is a sign otherwise.”

The Thunderer went quiet and closed his eyes for a long moment.  When he opened them, any trace of warmth was gone.

While he was thinking, the Jaguar and Hector had nearly come to blows outside the pavilion, though the sound they made was blocked by the pavilion’s wards.  Fortunately, both Leon and the Thunderer’s side kept them from coming to physical or magical blows.

“I expected more from you,” Leon said.  “The company one keeps can often say more about one than their disposition.”

“Hector is a brilliant organizer.  What I hope to build would be impossible without him.  My army would be a shadow of what it is now without him.”

“I would’ve never guessed,” Leon said as he slowly sauntered in Hector’s direction.

The Thunderer quickly interposed himself between them, and their movements were clearly noticed outside as the Jaguar and Hector both went quiet and all of the elders regarded them apprehensively.

“Take these five days to think, Leon,” the Thunderer stated with muted fury plain to see on his face.  “If you put your name forward to be our King, you will show yourself to be an enemy of the Ten Tribes, one who would plunge us into civil war.”

“It is your side provoking that,” Leon countered.  “You need only pay more attention to the company you keep and the Tribe that claims you as its own.”

The Thunderer glared at him, and after a moment, said, “Then there is nothing more to say.”

“I’ll see you in five days,” Leon responded.

The Thunderer gave him nothing more than a sharp glare before turning and walking out of the pavilion, the elders he’d come with scrambling after him.

Only once he was gone did Leon finally let out the breath he’d been holding.  As confident as his position made him, the Thunderer was still a tenth-tier mage, and that made him incredibly anxious.  If things turned violent, the Thunderer was going to be beyond dangerous.

He even started questioning his first impression of the man.  He’d made it to tenth-tier so he couldn’t be free of personal ambition.

‘Maybe I’ve read him wrong and he really does want to be the King here, even if not in name…’

No matter what the Thunderer was planning, he supposed he’d find out in five days.  And then either a civil war would break out, or he’d be acclaimed King.

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