The city stretched out beneath him, gleaming as any city at the center of such a Kingdom should. But for Prios, the majesty and glory were almost lost on him; he felt like he was looking back in time, Artorion appearing to him as a ghost of a bygone age. Architecture and city planning both were familiar to him, yet changed enough to only elicit a feeling of déjà vu, rather than appearing as something he truly knew.
In the weeks since his submission to the Paladin Anzu, he’d learned much of the Kingdom he was now joining—of its King, certainly, but also of those he ruled. Names he’d thought long dead and forgotten were again spoken in his presence, the mere utterances nearly sending him reeling back to his younger days.
And now, before his eyes, lay the proof. The arenas and isolated compounds of the Lion-of-the-Plains Clan; the titanic longhouses of the Heart-Stabbing Hawk Clan; the cave palaces of the Ji Spider Clan; and more, besides… He knew these vassals, ten of them by his reckoning, all of them having been fairly prominent in the days of Jason Keraunos. The last Storm King had demanded they support his secretive campaign with the finest warriors they could bring to bear, and these Clans, having been raised and supported by the Thunderbird Clan, responded loyally and without question. Their best and brightest joined Jason Keraunos, and like Jason, they vanished, never to be seen again.
Prios didn’t know if the Clans still existed out in the universe somewhere, greatly diminished or strengthened, but he knew that around his League, there had been no sign of any of them in eighty thousand years.
Seeing them now banished any last trace of doubt he had about the identity of the King that his League was now subordinated to. This was the Thunderbird Clan, if so many of its old vassals were here.
“Quite the sight, isn’t it?” asked his minder, the man named Clear Day, who had met them at the Lion’s Portal leading into the Nexus alongside several of the diplomats that Prios had already met in the past decade.
“I feel like I haven’t set foot in the Nexus,” Prios said, “but instead have somehow gone back in time. In my days of service to the Thunderbird Clan of old, one of my first friends was a particularly eccentric man named Lim. He was one of the Ravens-of-Hail-Hall, and one of the finest magical engineers I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. He became one of the leading engineers working on the Storm King’s personal flag ark. Seeing all of this… I knew men and women from each of these Clans, though some only in passing. I visited the planes they ruled, if but briefly, at the height of the Thunderbird Clan’s power.” He went silent for a moment, just long enough to lend his next statement all due gravity. “I had thought all these Clans lost.”
Clear smirked, the expression seeming grandfatherly on the man’s strangely-aged appearance. “King Leon is looking forward to meeting you, Prios. It’s not often that those who knew his Clan in those elder days are found.”
Prios hummed in acknowledgment, but didn’t otherwise respond.
“Now that I think about it,” Clear said as he stepped up to the projected window alongside him, “if you look down there, near the top of Black Feather Mountain, you’ll see the Hailstorm Aerie, the center of power for the Raven Tribe. In front of it is a Tribal totem. I recall speaking with a Raven some time ago that one of their founding Chiefs was a man named Lim; if it’s the same as your friend, you might see him immortalized on the totem.”
Prios followed the visual direction, but the angle was poor, and the courtyard in front of the icy halls of Hailstorm Aerie was heavily warded, so he couldn’t get a good look at the totem.
“I’ll have to see it when I get—” His breath hitched in his throat as he spied a familiar shape, one that had been burned into his mind despite how short a time he spent with it compared to the length of time he’d been alive.
Storm Herald, the ark he’d served aboard for centuries before being moved into a planar administrative role. The gleaming beast had been beneath a covered arkpad when he arrived, but now she lazily drifted out of the mouth of that arkpad and began performing slow maneuvers that he guessed were some kind of drill or shakedown process.
“Recognize that one, too, don’t you?” Clear asked.
For a charged moment, Prios considered revealing his history with the ark, something he hadn’t done for anyone else associated with this revival of the Thunderbird Clan yet. But he simply said, “Yes,” as any other words seemed too inadequate to truly capture what he felt both when thinking about that ark and what he felt seeing it now.
“King Leon managed to get his hands on many legacy arks from the ancient Thunderbird Clan,” Clear explained. “Nearly all of them were scavenged for parts and materials to bring that one back into working order.”
“Good,” Prios whispered. “Between an expeditionary fleet from the old Clan and Storm Herald, I’d choose Storm Herald every time. She is one-of-a-kind.”
As they spoke, the ark that bore them into the city had neared its destination, and now began landing procedures. They had come to an arkpad south of the city proper, but close to the large fortress that would lead them up to the mountain palace where Leon Raime awaited him and the rest of his delegation. There, he would bow, and the Asuwiyan League would formally become part of a Kingdom ruled by the Thunderbird Clan. Though he was nervous, Prios also felt something close to relief. The part of himself that had always venerated the Thunderbird Clan had only grown in these past few weeks, and now being brought back into that Clan’s fold was… relieving, in its own way, even if it cost him a portion of the autonomy and power that he’d fought so hard to make.
He and Clear didn’t speak much as they disembarked the ark and then boarded one of a small fleet of smaller, hovering, self-propelled ark-like carriages. The interior was luxurious, as was to be expected, but Prios found himself again staring out of the windows projected onto the interior rather than focusing on the plush décor within.
Something that struck him as odd was just how wild the valley that Artorion had been built in remained. Of course, he knew that the Thunderbirds had always liked wilder decorative styles, but a city as large as Artorion required a certain degree of logistical support to maintain. Huge barges plied the river from north and south, ensuring the city remained fed and supplied, but most other Kings would’ve turned the huge ring-shaped valley into productive fields to ease some of that burden. And sure, he could see some fields here and there, even some in the otherwise-undeveloped western half of the valley, but far less than he would’ve established.
The next thing that he focused on was the palace itself, and the floating mountain it had been built on. Floating mountains were hardly something new to him, but this one was particularly large and eye-catching. The magic power required to keep it aloft seemed almost wasteful, though for a King, he knew it served as an effective display of power.
“Of course anyone would bow to this King,” he could almost hear an imaginary sycophant say. “Look at his power! He has so much that he can casually build his palace atop a massive floating mountain!”
As his and Clear’s ark was borne higher by the central lift in Perch Fortress, he began examining the palace itself, appreciating the nods to classic Thunderbird architecture while occasionally marveling at the life-like golems and soldiers clad in things that were more vehicle than suits of armor, who stood guard. His thoughts were immediately and almost violently thrown off when they reached the top of the fortress, a bridge of light was extended to the counterpart fortress at the base of the floating mountain, and his ark began the journey across the gap.
Down below, he saw the mist that filled the crater that the mountain had left behind when it rose from the earth, and he shivered in instinctive terror. Below the new palace of the Thunderbirds was a literal pit of death, a gateway to the beyond that no sane man would ever want to approach, let alone build the core of his Kingdom atop of.
Prios turned away from the window, his hands shaking, his heart racing, and found Clear smiling in amusement, as if his reaction to seeing the jaws of the underworld gaping in anticipation of his soul plummeting in was the strange thing, and not Clear’s complete nonchalance.
Never had Prios been so thankful to find his boots on solid ground as when his carriage landed on the floating mountain. His legs felt weak, but he remained steady as he exited the vehicle and resolutely did not look behind or below. He saw that most of the rest of his delegation were in similar states as they disembarked after him—a common condition, it seemed, if the similar levels of amusement he could see in the guards, attendants, and diplomats were any indication.
‘Another statement by the Thunderbird King,’ he thought. ‘One loudly heard…’
He took the ascent up the long Stairs of Morning as a good opportunity to compose himself. The stairs were, undoubtedly, meant to force any visitors to show humility before the King, to ascend on foot rather than using lifts or just flying if they were capable. But, Prios noted, it was also a blessing in disguise, a way to help those affected by the sight of the death mists filling the crater below to get their legs back under them before coming before the King.
Naturally, the stairs were long and wound up the mountain slopes, but they were suitably grand and imposing. Not a match for the titanic triumphal roads that led to the ancient Thunderbird palace on Minos, but it was suitably impressive.
The throne room, as much as it was a room, was much more awe-inspiring than the rest of the palace. A grand half-moon-shaped courtyard made of smoky gray crystal, open to the sky, and a marble colonnade at the south end looking out onto the valley with intricately decorated columns and arches. Thunderbird motifs featured heavily, as was only right, and the lightning flashing through the cloud-shaped capitals was a nice touch, if a bit uninspired. The palace on Minos was far more impressive back in his youth, though he wondered if it was home to anything more than bats and rats now.
Prios, thanks to his power, was able to take a more relaxed, though still rigidly formal, view of the palace. The rest of his delegation, however, appeared somewhat overwhelmed by the power present in the ‘room’. Hundreds of men, women, and beasts filled the courtyard, along with some oddly lifelike golems and even three tree-ish creatures with few facial features but skin like bark. Most responsible for the oppressive aura, however, was the throne of dark wood that emanated a dense aura of lightning magic, and the man who sat upon it, who could only be Leon Raime.
And upon seeing the King for the first time, once again, Prios found himself thrown almost ass-first into the past. Leon, to his eyes at least, looked much like Jason Keraunos: reasonably tall and handsome, with a powerful physique, and rich brown hair. Unlike Jason Keraunos, however, Leon Raime had eyes of shimmering gold, like the dark-haired woman standing beside him whose aura was just as oppressive and dreadful as Leon’s was. Also unlike Jason Keraunos, Leon was wearing clothing rather than armor—in this case, a fairly luxurious ensemble of blue and silver with a faint avian outline shining on his chest when the light caught him just right.
Leon Raime looked every bit a King, and his power was undeniable. Contrary to the rest of his delegation, Prios relaxed at the sight of him, finally knowing in his heart that the Thunderbird Clan was rising again.
And he had the opportunity to be a large part of that, if he wished. He’d come to be invested as a ‘Stellarch,’ an apparently new position that Leon Raime had implemented recently to be the ruler of an entire planar cluster. The Asuwiyan League would continue as normal, generally speaking, but the title given to him, as its leader, legitimized them, ensuring that they were formally integrated into Leon’s Kingdom.
In the end, Prios had no trouble bowing to Leon, just as he’d had no problem bowing to Jason Keraunos. And his heart raced at the possibilities that now lay ahead.
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With a smile on his face and in his heart, Leon approached Prios, the first Stellarch of his Kingdom. It had been several hours since the ceremony, and since then, the man and the Princes—most of them monarchs until they kneeled before Leon and swore themselves to him—Lords, and other high officials had been moving about, introducing themselves to the many other men and women of power and means of his Kingdom—or at least, those in his Artorion at the moment.
“Prios,” Leon said, everyone else around him seemingly melting away at his approach.
“King Leon,” the other man said, smiling warmly.
“I was hoping to get the chance to speak with you,” Leon said, trying to hide his eagerness, though he doubted it was working.
“About what?” the man asked with a knowing smile.
Doubtful that he was going to surprise Prios, Leon responded, “Well, anything, really. I’m curious about your Asuwiyan League and all the people that call it home. But right now, I simply can’t contain my curiosity; I would like to talk about you, and about your interesting history.”
“As you wish,” Prios said as Leon started steering them towards a more secluded terrace off the palace ballroom.
“You’re not the first person I’ve met who remembers the time of my ancient Clan,” Leon said.
“Given your position, I would never have thought I was,” Prios replied.
Leon smiled at Gwarim as they passed, the man having arrived only a few days before Prios. Leon hadn’t quite gotten around to broaching more serious topics with him, but was grateful that his friend had come so quickly and without any fuss. Gwarim nodded back and didn’t say anything, more interested as he was in watching several Princes of the Asuwiyan League having a friendly—at least, Leon hoped it was friendly—spar with several Tribal Chiefs.
“I find your history fascinating,” Leon said. “Someone who grew up in my ancient Clan, who went on to form his own interplanar Empire-that-isn’t-an-Empire. You achieved Apotheosis, but stayed at the eleventh-tier. You could’ve gone to the Nexus and used your power and experience to become a powerful Strategos at least, and possibly more. Can you blame me for being curious?”
“I… suppose not. Though, if we’re going to be candid…”
“Please.”
Prios bowed his head slightly at Leon’s assent. “Then I’ll express some surprise that you’re curious about me rather than about what I can reveal from those old days.”
“A man can be curious about both, can’t he?”
Again, Prios lowered his head in acknowledgment. “Then… where would you wish to start?”
“You were made a governor under my Ancestor, Jason Keraunos. I’m given to understand that your specific position was fairly influential?”
“Relatively. A prominent governor of a single province on one plane. I hadn’t achieved Apotheosis yet, but it was the highest position that I could expect given my power.”
“That’s interesting,” Leon said, arching an eyebrow. “I imagine such positions are hard to come by.”
Prios froze for a moment before relaxing. “I…” He sighed, Leon noting tinges of reluctance and acceptance in it. However, before he could truly respond, someone came running into the ballroom: a messenger whose magic senses locked onto Leon so blatantly that he couldn’t fail to notice.
Leon turned as the man came sprinting over, drawing no small amount of attention, a written message in hand. Leon took the message and read it quickly, recognizing the formal-yet-familiar way that Valeria composed her messages when they were relayed to him rather than spoken face-to-face.
His face set in hard lines, he stowed the message as Iron-Striker came walking over.
With a frown, Leon told his Chancellor, “Something’s come up. I’ll leave this in your… no, you’ll come with me, I’ll want your advice.” He turned to Prios and said, “I’ll make some time to finish this conversation later. Please, enjoy my hospitality for as long as you wish.”
Prios politely bowed again as Leon and Iron-Striker then left the ballroom, Leon making eye contact with Elise and Cassandra and silently telling them to handle things from this moment on. Despite their concern, they did as he asked.
“How ‘important’ is this thing?” Iron-Striker asked as they entered the adjacent hallway, with Zhang and Daryun falling in beside them, along with half a dozen Tempest Knights. Anna and Lana stayed behind to keep an eye on the party since Elise and Cassandra were still there.
“Valeria found something out in the planes,” Leon said. “Something we need to talk about. Hmm.” He paused and seemingly glanced at the wall, though in truth, he was seeing if his mother was busy. A quick message had her getting up and heading to the same place he and Iron-Striker were. Then, he and Iron-Striker proceeded down to the city, and to Nestor’s lab, where the remains of the Wailing Dirge and the chimeric creature on Kavad’s Lance were kept…
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