As Archelaus made his introductions, Damini’s dark, midnight eyes never left Leon, nor did her sultry smile fade. Leon could feel Elise and Cassandra’s irritation at being ignored after Damini insisted on the introduction, though before Archelaus had even finished, Leon wondered if that wasn’t just a power move against Morui.
Either way, he was glad the man wasn’t close enough to obviously leer at his wives.
“I find it interesting,” Damini said once Archelaus finished the introductions, “that all of your women have achieved Apotheosis. Many don’t bother wasting resources on consorts.”
“Are you saying we don’t deserve investment?” Cassandra asked, her tone dangerous.
“My husbands and concubines are hardly worth the effort,” the Basilissa responded.
“Raise your standards,” Cassandra bluntly replied, and Leon felt a brief spike in killing intent from his family’s conversation partner.
“The standards of a Basilissa are that I get whatever I want,” Damini stated.
“And what is it that you want?” Elise asked, drawing the woman’s dark glare.
“I want… to know what your relationship is with Princess Miuna.”
Leon cocked an eyebrow. “She’s a friend,” he said simply.
“The storied defender of the Storm Lands,” Damini whispered with a mocking smile. “Many speak your name with pride, Leon Raime. But I can’t help but wonder why, when it seems like the Ocean King has merely exchanged a buffer zone for a tributary… What are the Storm Lords to think when their newest hero gets so close to an enemy?”
As she spoke, Leon became more and more aware of how many other Lords were watching and listening, the general silence of the room in the wake of Damini’s spat with Morui never quite returning to pre-spat levels. For the moment, they were only watching and listening, though he supposed magic would make it easier to not let any gossiping whispers be heard…
“Princess Miun—” Elise began, a sharp edge to her voice, but Leon cut her off, not wanting to dance around this issue.
“We owe no one any explanations,” Leon firmly declared. “If you have a problem with my actions, then declare them to me. Playing games is beneath you.”
“Nothing is beneath me,” Damini said, her sultry grin returning. “Everything is beneath me.” She leaned in, though given the glimmer in her midnight eyes, Leon didn’t think it was to give him a look down her low-cut dress. “Answer my question, Despot.”
Without missing a beat, Leon growled, “You have no power over me.”
“The power I hold over you is my power,” she countered, her aura rising with her words, and the Lords around them began moving back, giving them room. Leon was amused to note that only now were some of them starting to whisper amongst themselves after having silently listened in on the exchange so far.
Leon extricated his arms from Cassandra and Elise and let his aura grow to match Damini. He could feel Cassandra, Maia, and Valeria ready to assist him, while Anzu darted in to subtly shuffle Elise back.
Before any magic could be exchanged, however, Archelaus strolled between them. “This is no time for hostilities, is it?”
Damini didn’t back down, but she looked less sure with Archelaus now between her and Leon. “If a man claims descent from the Thunderbird but jumps into bed with a fish, is that not a time for hostility, Despot Archelaus?”
“No one’s in bed with Miuna,” Leon said as Maia shifted beside him, her aura rising a bit more.
“Whatever the contention, blood need not be shed,” Archelaus said definitively.
To Leon’s surprise, Damini glared at Archelaus for a long moment, then relaxed.
“Who says any blood was going to be shed?” she asked with an innocent smile. “This is a party, isn’t it? Leon, why don’t we—”
Loud, indistinct shouting from outside interrupted the Basilissa, drawing attention to the door. Moments later, the Triyr’s familiar figure darkened the hall’s threshold.
“… from whoever owns those golems!” Triyr glared around the room, the Basileus seemingly not expecting to be the center of attention yet reveling in it. He wore golden robes with an elaborate golden headdress, and jewelry adorned every finger and both wrists. Like a peacock, he strutted further into the hall and thundered, “Who owns the golems outside?”
Leon suppressed a grin and immediately shouted back, “What golems?”
The question earned him a cold glare, though Triyr’s arrogant smile remained fixed. “I wanted to commission a few for myself,” he continued, addressing the room rather than acknowledging Leon. “Does no one want the favor of a Basileus?”
“A favor is only worth something when backed by someone of worth,” Damini venomously responded.
Triyr’s smile finally thinned and he stalked over. “Damini, what a pleasant surprise,” he said in a tone as false as a projected sky. “And what a magnificent dress you’re wearing! Though I hear it takes nothing more than a wink and a smile to see it crumpled on the floor…”
“Such rumors are always believed by those whose winks and smiles will never let them see a crumpled dress,” Damini shot back.
Triyr mirthlessly chuckled before his eyes slid to Leon. “Already found a new boy to strangle amidst your sheets?”
“Leon Raime was about to show me a good time,” Damini said. “Good Archelaus here, however, saved him from a most pleasurable death.”
Triyr smiled as transparently as glass. “Have you given further thought to my offer, Leon Raime?”
“I recall no offer,” Leon said. “Only demands. And I do not traffic in demands.”
“The ark,” Triyr enunciated intensely.
“Forget it,” Leon responded.
“What ark?” Damini asked, shifting slightly so that Leon stood directly between her and Triyr.
“Storm Herald,” Triyr said. “A fine machine that does not belong in the hands of a mere Despot.”
“Storm Herald…?” Damini whispered. Leon felt her magic senses pulse, and then her midnight eyes widened slightly and flickered in Storm Herald’s direction.
“Did you miss it?” Triyr asked. “It’s a good thing a Basilissa doesn’t need the power of sight, isn’t it? No, why would she? Such a redundant sense…”
“Your glibness does you no credit.”
“Neither does yours.”
Leon moved to put a bit of distance between himself and the Basileis, already regretting his decision to come to this party—or rather, regretting more than he already had been.
As the two traded several more barbs, Morui came sauntering back over, giving Leon an almost dismissive glower. “Such a lack of decorum,” he growled. “The two of you shame all Basileis of the Storm Lands. What example do you set for our fellow Storm Lords?”
As the other two responded, Archelaus slithered around Morui and hurried Leon and his family away, steering them toward the area of the hall where the other Despots had congregated. “That… was not how I’d hoped this would go,” he admitted as the voices of the Basileis grew behind them.
Focusing entirely on Archelaus, Leon replied, “How often do these shindigs get violent?”
“Shindig? Ah, what a colorful turn of phrase! To answer you: rarely,” Archelaus replied.
“This was nearly an exception,” Elise said as she took Leon’s arm again. He noticed her hands shaking slightly, and he comfortingly lay his aura around her, bringing out a grateful smile.
“What was her problem?” Cassandra whispered as she took Leon’s other arm, her fingers curling around his forearm like it was a neck she wanted to wring. “Her attitude is awful!”
“I have not met Basilissa Damini many times,” Archelaus responded. “She has always been… unique, as far as my experience with her tells me.”
“She’s a bitch,” Valeria stated with quiet strength, her sapphire eyes narrowed in anger.
“One who deserves to walk through the Ashen Fields barefoot!” Cassandra vehemently added.
“Many people deserve much, and receive little,” Archelaus bemoaned. “For now, how about we put all of that behind us and try to—”
“Leon Raime!” Triyr shouted. By this point, they had reached where Gwarim, Illum, and Nuertis were waiting, but Illum, Nuertis, and the other Despots around the table slowly backed up as Triyr came storming over, a rictus grin baring his teeth. Behind him, Morui watched with the look of a disappointed father while Damini almost bounced with delighted energy.
“That is my name,” Leon replied.
Triyr stopped right in front of him, invading Leon’s personal space, and jabbed a finger into his chest. “You are nothing before me! By what right do you presume to deny me?! Such a flagrant denial of Khosrow’s Law cannot stand!”
“If Khosrow’s Law were enforced fully,” Leon replied as his body filled with magic power and he prepared his armor and Iron Pride within his soul realm, “then my Clan wouldn’t have ruled the Storm Lands for nearly so long. Did you believe the Great Lord’s Law to be violated back then?”
“You are nothing before the glories of the Thunderbird Clan!” Triyr insisted. “No pretender who has done nothing but dig up old relics has earned the right to keep them!”
“By what metric are you measuring ‘earn’?”
“By strength!” Triyr loudly declared. “No Despot shall hold such ancient things over me! Leon Raime, before all of these Storm Lords, these stalwart defenders of the Storm Lands and the paragons of lightning, I challenge you to a duel! Bare your steel or forfeit all claims to your ill-gotten relics!”
Leon’s family closed ranks around him, and he could sense that should he order it, Anzu and his ladies would immediately attack Triyr. Even Elise, despite her usual aversion to violence, radiated a furious aura.
“Basileus Triyr…” Archelaus attempted to interject, but the thirteenth-tier mage silenced him with a wrathful glare.
“Well, Leon Raime?” Triyr pressed. “Are you a Thunderbird? Or will you tuck and run to cry into the silks of that salty wench who truly saved you from Despot Terris?”
Leon glared at Triyr for a long moment, barely able to hold himself back. He quickly mentally connected with Anzu and his ladies, and the sentiments they shared were generally similar.
[Kill him kill him kill him kill him kill him,] Maia repeated ad nauseum.
[Cut his tongue out, brother,] Anzu said.
[Butcher this squealing pig,] Cassandra all but ordered.
Only when Leon checked with Valeria and Elise did he find some measure of caution.
[A Basileus…] Valeria whispered. [His power is likely earned. No one would begrudge you if you denied him, but… if you are confident you can take him, I will support you.]
[Can you…?] Elise asked. [It would be better not to chance this…]
Leon gave the Basileus a quick once-over, analyzing the mage to the best of his ability. Triyr’s power was beyond his ability to parse, but his body was well-built and strong. His hands were rough and callused, though not quite to the same degree as Leon’s, and even standing there, his stance was sturdy and well-suited to violence suddenly breaking out.
‘He’d be no pushover even without taking his tier into consideration…’
Still, Leon could feel the weight of hundreds of eyes on him. What King turned down a duel? Who would follow him if he couldn’t protect his honor, and by extension, the honor of his Kingdom?
He was inclined to agree to the duel, dangerous though it was, but he needed some questions answered first…
“What are the terms of this duel?” he asked aloud.
“When I win, you hand over Storm Herald,” Triyr insisted. His eyes flickered in the direction of the doors, and he added, “And those golems I saw outside since they seem to be yours. You’ll hand those over, too. And you’ll swear yourself to me, as your Lord, under Khosrow’s Law!”
“None of that will be happening,” Leon said, his tone as cocky as his body was tense. As confident as he might be taking on someone only one tier higher than he was, he still had no idea what Triyr might be capable of. Leon continued, “When I win, you’ll drop this matter entirely and publicly apologize for your abhorrent behavior! Then you’ll remove yourself from my presence at least until the end of the Belicenian Games!”
“It is not for the likes of you to reprimand me,” Triyr growled. “We will fight as our forefathers did: no armor and only one weapon! Now choose a second.”
“I find those conditions acceptable, but… A second?” Leon asked.
Triyr rolled his eyes, but Archelaus helpfully explained, “A second is someone who will stand with you and fight on your behalf should you be unable to fight—which does not seem to be the case. It’s best to choose someone anyway, if only for the moral support.”
Leon nodded and glanced at his family. All of them would be a good pick so long as violence wasn’t expected of them. Elise was perhaps the only one among them who wouldn’t personally want to do anything of the sort, and would only accept if he were to ask it of her. But before he could say anything, Gwarim leaped forward.
“HAHA! LEON RAIME, IF YOU WOULD HAVE ME, I WOULD STAND AS YOUR SECOND! LET US WIPE THE SMILE OFF THIS SHAMEFUL MAN’S FACE!” The enormous man laid a hand on Leon’s shoulder, enthusiasm radiating from him like light from a star. Leon noted that he and Archelaus were the only Lords who had seemed to side with him, with nearly all of the others, including those he’d met earlier in the day, backing away from him, as if simply being near him would draw Triyr’s anger.
“Oh?” Triyr derisively snorted. “And what would you be getting out of this, Gwarim?”
“SEEING YOU BEATEN AND BLOODY WOULD SUFFICE!” Gwarim boomed, but after a moment, he visibly forced himself to calm down. “But… as a second, I would ask for something…” He looked at Leon, seriousness breaking through his eagerness for a moment. “Should you accept my offer, Leon Raime, I insist that you come visit me in my castle! Allow me to host you as a brother!”
“Gladly,” Leon replied, and Gwarim belted out a thunderous laugh.
Any lightness in the hall’s atmosphere was immediately quenched when another voice rang out.
“I will serve as second to Basileus Triyr.” Morui stepped forward, his eyes sweeping over Leon’s family.
“I would accept such an offer,” Triyr said. “What would you ask in return, my friend?”
“I would take Leon Raime’s concubines for myself,” Morui said, his lingering on each of Leon’s wives in turn.
All remaining levity in Leon’s head vanished, while any desire to show mercy in his heart went the same way.
“You are a pig staring at a goddess hoping for a taste,” Cassandra spat.
“You will never touch us,” Valeria added.
Maia said nothing, but Leon could feel her anger like the waves kicked up by a hurricane. Wrath boiled within her, as it did within him.
Elise alone didn’t respond with outright fury or defiance and instead huddled in closer to Leon, her hands on his arm tightening into a vise.
“I’ll have to teach you manners,” Morui said, “but if you perform well enough, I might even elevate you to the status of a favored consort.”
“Shall we have this duel here?” Leon asked, his tone frigid, his aura vibrating with deadly excitement.
“What manner of barbarian are you, to suggest desecrating Anax Indresis’ palace?” Triyr asked, sounding more scandalized by Leon’s suggestion than anything else that evening. “No, there are plenty of places in Voidshore where we might put you in your place. Sunscale Point, perhaps?”
“The place doesn’t matter,” Leon rumbled. “When our blades clash, your end will come.”
Triyr scoffed. “Sunscale Point, then. I will be there in twenty-four hours. Begin making peace with your inevitable loss now, boy. By this time tomorrow, you will understand just what happens when you offend your betters.”
Leon didn’t respond. Even if he had the words, his tongue was too gripped with anger of every shade that he never would’ve gotten them out. But he had control enough to hold Elise close and, after making sure the rest of his family was with him, made for the door. He paid no mind to the weight of so many stares, nor to the way that everyone hurried to get out of his way as if worried he might rope them into his mess through proximity alone. He was barely even aware of Archelaus and Gwarim hurrying after him.
He cast one last glare over his shoulder, his golden eyes dark and murderous, with a hint of red gathering within his pitch-black pupils…
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