Deep in Leon’s palace, he sat in a room with only the scratch of his quill to be heard. It glided across paper, leaving in its wake ink in the runic patterns of the Nexus common language. Long practiced as he was in inscribing runes and sketching enchantment designs, his handwriting was perfect, each letter coming with little flair and great consistency. He could’ve been using an enchanted notary machine, something that had recently been invented out in the Burning Lands and that could even use wisps to increase accuracy and speed; he could’ve even had Lucianus bring in a scribe to write out his thoughts, but he preferred the tactile sensation of writing to such means.
Besides, he’d gone to the trouble of plucking out one of his smaller feathers when in Thunderbird form to make this quill, and he wasn’t going to let that bit of pain go to waste.
After all, he was writing his own story, as he’d been often urged to do over the past decade. His story was for himself and his family, not necessarily for anyone else. A more curated version might be made publicly available if he ever cared for it, but the thoughts and musings he left in these pages weren’t for the common eye to see.
With a groan, he crossed out nearly an entire page and set the quill down. He doubted anyone would care overmuch about the specific layout of the Knight Academy, nor what his Snow Lions were doing on a minute-by-minute basis—a level of detail that he was straying into. He nearly did the same thing to some of his reflections on his distant and aloof behavior, torn between letting his actions speak for themselves and trying to pass on what he’d learned in the centuries since.
In the end, he decided to give his thoughts, not wanting his disinterest in the Bull Kingdom to be taken as a virtue.
To no small degree, he found writing about himself difficult. Nearly three centuries of life were hard to simply summarize, and that caused his work to balloon in scope. Long tangents that disrupted the flow of the ‘story’ were frequent—though, he’d defend himself with saying that most of those tangents, especially those that delved into the history of House Raime, were necessary context and even useful completely on its own—which was a significant part of the reason why he’d only reached his experience with the Bull Kingdom’s Knight Academy after so long writing.
But as frustrating as his own writing style could be, losing himself in this work was wonderful, as it took his mind off of everything else that was happening around him. Conquest out in the planes that he wasn’t taking part in, the death of Ramin, murmurings of arks gathering in the King’s Ocean west of Queenfall… Much of his time was spent dealing with these issues, nearly all of which had the same simple answer: he needed to be stronger, and his Kingdom needed to be stronger.
But for a few hours at a time, he could ignore those issues and simply work on this little project.
‘Who knows if anyone will ever read it…’ Leon thought to himself. Training with the Great Black Dragon hadn’t helped him with his fertility issues, and Serana and the Great Black Dragon Clan didn’t have anything ‘strong enough’ to help.
Yet.
Serana promised that she’d find something.
Leon vowed to master the Great Black Dragon’s power, believing that would help.
At this point, he’d set aside any expectation of a quick answer. An answer would come, he was sure, but it would come in its own time. Until then, he had other problems to deal with.
Problems that were brought back to the forefront of his mind as Elise entered the room and slid her arms around his shoulders. She pressed her soft lips to his cheek as her fingers kneaded away some of the knots in his shoulders.
“Making progress?” she whispered breathily.
“Less than I’d like,” Leon answered as he melted into his wife’s arms.
“Writing your memoirs can’t be easy,” she commiserated, but that only drew a groan from him.
“Can we not call them that?” he asked. “It sounds so pretentious.”
“You’re a King, my love. You’re allowed to be a little pretentious.”
“Whether or not I’m allowed to do something doesn’t mean I want to do it. I’d rather this be something I look back on fondly, not something that I curse myself for writing.’
Elise smiled, the expression illuminating her face like the Origin Spark above. “Have you tried writing it in verse? Make it poetry, call it an Epic! Anyone who calls that pretentious would be laughed out of good society before they can draw another breath!”
A thin smile flashed across Leon’s face. “Maybe. Was there something going on?”
“Need there be something for me to want to spend time with my husband?”
Leon glanced at the door, still slightly ajar. In the hall beyond, he could see a dozen of Elise’s handmaidens, as well as Cristina and Asiya, who had been spending more and more time in the palace of late. He didn’t mind, though. They were family friends, and after the passing of the Bull King, they needed to be around friends.
“You’d be keeping people waiting.”
His eyes slid past his wife’s handmaidens to Lucianus beyond, with a handful of his other secretaries, all looking quite business-like. Something was going on.
Elise sighed, her breath warm against his ear. “Archelaus is here. He brought Illum with him.”
“So soon?” Leon rose from his seat, though he did so carefully, so as not to break Elise’s hold over him. Consequently, he lifted her slightly as he rose to his full height.
“I don’t think Archelaus is wasting any time,” Elise stated, not seeming like she was going to move from where she hung around Leon’s shoulders. His hands soon found themselves around her waist, supporting her as she clung to him. “Nor should he.”
Leon nodded as he enjoyed the scent of her body, her hair tickling his nose. “Ramin’s death was… unexpected.”
“And now his Despots scurry about, looking for a new Lord to serve. You should be eager to accept them.”
“They’ll lead to more trouble.”
“Of course they will. But they’ll help with trouble. Archelaus has sworn himself to you, and you accepted him. If the Ocean Lords to the west make a move, then Archelaus will move against them alongside us. Their strength will be added to ours.”
Leon caught himself as he was about to say, ‘I know.’ He did know that, but… these Despots were strong, powerful enough to dither on sending any requested support. And if they waited, not fulfilling their obligations to him in time…
“I don’t want to rely on them for that,” he said bluntly.
“Are we strong enough to handle the entire Nexus by ourselves?”
“No. And that’s not what I was saying. I know that it’s necessary. I just don’t like it.”
Elise’s smile softened a bit as she released her hold over him, dropping back to the floor. Her hands then went to his face and made sure that he was looking her in the eye. “Was it shameful that I relied on you?” she asked. “That I still rely on you?”
“No,” Leon replied immediately. “I… get your point. You’re family, it’s different, but I still get it.”
Over the past ten years, along with a bit of extra pressure from Valeria, Cristina, and Asiya, she’d committed to her combat training. She hadn’t grown much in raw power, but she was much more competent with a blade in hand than she used to be. Not enough for Leon to be truly comfortable with her in battle as he was with Valeria, Maia, or Cassandra, but enough that he wasn’t quite as worried about her as he had been in years past.
“If they’re friends, then accept their support,” Elise said. “If they’re not friends, then make them friends.”
“That simple?” Leon asked sardonically.
“That simple,” Elise replied. “Now, come on. Archelaus and Illum should be close.”
With Elise on his arm, Leon left his small writing room, and everyone outside bowed at his appearance.
“Anything to report?” Leon asked Lucianus as the Grand Secretary rose.
“Sir Anzu sent a report,” Roland’s son replied. “He sent word of victory.”
“Ah, good,” Leon said, his mood immediately improving. “I’d worried that that League would bog him down. Did he say anything more?”
“His report was a single word,” Lucianus said. “‘Victory’.”
Leon chuckled. “He’ll send more details soon. But it’s good to hear that he won something, at least.”
“Despotissa Ingrid has also sent word,” Lucianus continued as Leon began walking toward one of the relatively small but comfortable sitting rooms in the palace where he entertained guests. That, he decided, would be the place that he’d welcome Archelaus and Illum.
“More than one?” Leon asked.
Lucianus nodded and smiled with muted amusement. “She’s accepted your invitation and will arrive in Artorion within two months. She’ll be bringing her daughter, too, I believe. She didn’t say as much but implied she would.”
“We’ll make sure they’re welcomed warmly.”
Lucianus nodded again. “We also received a reply from Despot Gwarim. He’s eager to accept your invitation, though given his greater distance from Artorion’s borders, will need several months to arrive.”
“That long? Is there something holding him up?” Leon knew that Lumenite bands could facilitate travel, though they were expensive, but even with arks, Gwarim should’ve been able to reach Artorion in a matter of weeks, not months.
“He is a Despot, love,” Elise reminded him with a brief squeeze on his arm. “He has his own duties to see to, his own people to keep fat and happy.”
Annoyed, though more at the situation than at anyone in particular, Leon replied, “I know that. I just worried that there’s something more active. Like he’s fighting off an invader, or dealing with rebellious Strategoi.”
“He didn’t give any indication of such,” Lucianus said.
“Be sure, then, to pass on my well wishes, and if he needs anything, he needs only to ask,” Leon said.
Lucianus bowed in acknowledgment as they stopped at the door of the sitting room.
“Show our guests in when they arrive,” Leon ordered. He was about to head in when Elise released his arm.
“I have a new strain of orchid to inspect, so I’ll leave you boys to your work,” the fire-haired beauty said.
Wondering if she was just making an excuse to leave, Leon said, “If you’re sure, you can stay if you please.”
Elise just smiled and said, “You don’t need me, my love, but those orchids do. I’ll see you when you have a new Despot sworn to you.” With that, she gave him a sultry smile and left, her handmaids and friends close behind her. Cristina and Asiya paused just long enough to smile at Leon, and he smiled back before he entered the room and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
The longer he waited, the more in his own head he became. He remembered Archelaus promising that, since Illum was acquainted with him, the Despot would immediately swear his fealty. But now, with nothing else to occupy his mind, Leon wondered about that. He wondered if Illum wouldn’t be more comfortable swearing himself to another Lord—N’chezzar was relatively close, and he and Ramin were friends. N’chezzar wasn’t sworn to Alderion, however, and Illum might not consider that choice any more stable than swearing to Leon.
‘But he’s coming here,’ he reminded himself. ‘In person.’
Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long. Archelaus was in something of a hurry, more determined than even Leon was not to be left to the whims of Anax Alderion. The two entered not even an hour after Leon started waiting—long enough for Leon’s thoughts to turn back to his writings, but not long enough for him to actually start writing again. Archelaus entered first, looking harried and a little worse for wear. Illum, meanwhile, looked more put together, but his eyes were wider than Leon remembered, giving him an almost desperate look.
“Basileus Leon,” Archelaus formally said, bowing as a Tempest Knight closed the door behind him, securing the room from potential eavesdroppers.
“There’s no need for that,” Leon said. “We’re all friends here, aren’t we? And are there any other people around to scold anyone for propriety?”
“This situation demands a certain decorum,” Archelaus stated tensely. He straightened up and glanced at Illum, who needed no further prodding.
“Basileus Ramin is dead,” the Despot said almost matter-of-factly. “He was a proud man, and loyal. But now he’s gone. Alderion… I do not trust. Leon—Basileus Leon—I offer you my fealty. I swear myself to you, to provide you with my armies and fleets in times of war, and to follow your commands in accordance with the strictures laid out in Khosrow’s Law.”
Leon fought the urge to cringe, an urge that only grew stronger when Illum mentioned Khosrow’s Law. Leon had read the entire code written by Khosrow and his sons—or so it was said—so he knew what Illum was saying.
He was offering his loyalty, a tithe of money or material, depending on Leon’s choice, and his support in war. In return, he was asking for Leon’s protection and a degree of autonomy, a guarantee that he would remain the Lord of the lands he currently ruled. Leon would not get much of a say in how Illum’s land was administered, though from what Leon knew, he didn’t have much of a problem with it anyway. Illum didn’t have slaves, nor did he persecute those with Inherited Bloodlines—something which was readily apparent given how quickly he’d offered his fealty to Leon.
Leon fought against himself, suppressing his usual instinct to quibble about various technicalities in the oath of fealty, such as it was. He simply said, “I accept.” There would be a time for such quibbles later. For now, it was better to establish his dominance over further lands in the Far West before consolidating it. Trade, tribute, integration of military units, would all come in their own time.
Illum’s back straightened, some of the tension visible in the corners of his eyes gone—though not all of it.
“I am relieved,” he said. “Few Basileis would risk offending someone like Alderion.”
“My desire to raise my Clan to ancient heights and to protect my friends is greater than my desire to not get involved,” Leon responded with a grin. “But that still leaves the issue of how to respond to Alderion. Does he still not yet know that Ramin is dead?”
“Not that I know,” Archelaus said. “Given who killed him and how long it took Jors-kil to return, it may take some time before he learns of it. After thinking on it, I believe we have a year, but no longer. And perhaps less, if Jors-kil or any survivors from Ramin’s flag ark spread the word of what happened.”
“Then we should hurry,” Leon said. “I have many of my military assets deployed right now. I’m… somewhat reluctant to pull them back after launching this campaign. What forces can the two of you pull together, just in case?”
“Not many,” Illum immediately admitted. “My specialty has never lain in military affairs.”
That drew Leon’s attention, and not in a particularly positive way. “What do you specialize in?” he asked, doing his best to keep his tone steady and neutral.
“My military forces are geared towards counter-piracy operations,” Illum said. “My universal holdings are limited and don’t require much to patrol. They’re mostly located in the Great Strand of Andronike, which sees little war, given it’s where Anax Kamran has based himself.”
It took a degree of self-control that Leon hadn’t known he possessed not to react to that statement. It was both worrying and promising, giving Kamran potential leverage over his newest vassal, but also a potential way for Leon to access Kamran’s territory out in the universe…
Illum continued, “My people mostly handle material processing. We import raw goods and export finished goods. Here in the Far West, I produce a significant amount of Lumenite and Aurichalcum, among other useful materials.”
“We can use that,” Leon said, those two materials, in particular, being always in high demand. Having more meant that he might be able to run his arkyards a little hotter, though it wouldn’t benefit him much against Alderion if the Storm Lord moved against him in line with Archelaus’ time estimate.
“My armies and fleets are considerably larger,” Archelaus said proudly, but his pride quickly turned. “Though, perhaps not as large as yours. I have never launched a campaign of conquest, not even in the aftermath of your Clan’s fall, Leon. But my base lies in the Great Strand of Atreus, and that’s demanded more military might than Illum has required.”
“How available is that might?” Leon asked.
“My borders are secure,” Archelaus said. “I could pull a fleet of five hundred arks easily away. A thousand would be a risk, but doable. More than that would leave me dangerously vulnerable.”
Leon nodded. A thousand arks was relatively vague, but he could get specifics later. He imagined most of those arks were frigate and destroyer class, but he also expected some of greater tonnage and firepower.
Regardless, it seemed that his people would still form the largest part of any defensive force he could raise. He was just grateful that he made sure to build up those defensive forces before building out the fleets and armies that he’d need for the campaign. Even now, though, his people were motivated, even those from the conquered cities of the Far West. Those out in the planes were a little more dubious, but his recruitment efforts in Yun and Demetrion were ongoing. He imagined they’d be signing up for his armed forces in droves within the century.
“Ingrid will bring greater forces than both of us combined,” Archelaus said.
“I hope you’re right. We’ll need it if we’re angering Tyndareus, too.”
Archelaus smiled. “Such is the price of power. Others grow jealous. The trick is to grow too strong to fight before your enemies can respond.” Archelaus paused and took a deep breath, a look of ecstasy momentarily crossing his face. “I have missed this, you know. This politicking. Dangerous, but bracing. Makes a man feel alive!”
“I could do without the stress, personally,” Illum said. “No offense, Leon, but I’d never be here if Ramin were still around.”
“None taken,” Leon replied. “For now, let’s just make sure we’re ready. Who knows when Alderion, or Tyndareus, or whoever else will make their move?”
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