The Voidspace over Urnos belonged to him, but Leon could hardly appreciate it with his fallen Paladin in his arms. She was unconscious, but just barely on this side of death. Lana and Graniton had done much to stabilize her, but she’d suffered horrific damage to her heart, which, even after emergency healing, was on the verge of failure.
Leon couldn’t even imagine the damage done to her soul realm. Still, he had Clear Day’s pearl wrapped within the Adamant of his armor, protected from damage but still in a place where it could help him. Now, however, he practically tore it from its hidden compartment in his breastplate and stuffed it into Anna’s wound. While the pearl had something of a mind of its own, Leon was sure it would help.
He shot back to Storm Herald as fast as his power could bear him. Lana, Graniton, Maia, and Red all fell behind, but none of them held any grudges over the fact. All around them, rescue operations were already underway, seeing to burning arks and broken Ulta suits.
Losses had been sustained, but for the moment, Leon couldn’t say how much he’d lost.
He called ahead, and when he landed in the hangar, there was a healer team at the ready. They took Anna from his arms and began rushing her back to the healer’s bay. Leon followed a short distance but halted as he sensed Anshu’s magic senses ripple across his body. He sighed, then began the journey to the ark’s bridge instead of the healer’s bay. There was nothing he could do for Anna, but the fleet was still in need of his attention.
As he trooped up there, Maia and Red were the first to catch up, though several squads of Tempest Knights also met Leon on the way. They were silent, neither reveling in their victory. Whether that was due to their inhuman natures or Leon’s baleful mood, he couldn’t say.
When Leon arrived on the expansive bridge, Anshu was already off the command throne and moving between various stations, keeping the fleet organized. The door guards called out his presence, but by protocol, Anshu was the only one to acknowledge him; everyone else stuck to their duties.
“King Leon,” Anshu said professionally, the sole crack in his demeanor coming from his brief, though relieved, glance at Red. “The battle is won.”
“I noticed,” Leon drily said as he took a seat on the command throne. “How bad is it?”
Anshu took a moment to catch up to his thoughts, and when he did, he smiled and said, “We had some difficulties—I will need to confer with you later about the actions of Admiral Red-Knuckle—but ultimately, we came out far ahead of our enemy. About ten percent of the fleet suffered significant damage, but few of our arks, on the whole, were destroyed. It’ll take us a week once we move up the mobile yards to repair what can be repaired.”
“And the cost in blood?” Leon asked as he closed his eyes and leaned back, his head briefly brushing against the throne’s retrofitted cloud glass. The darkness magic in it touched his mind, and Leon almost reeled from it, as if he were a mortal man who’d accidentally brushed his hand against a hot pan—the cleanup was a cacophony that he didn’t want to hear at the moment.
“We’re still running the numbers,” Anshu said, “but our casualties were light. Whatever happened between you and Antipatra at the beginning—that lightshow—aided us greatly.” More quietly, he asked, “What… was that?”
A frown graced Leon’s lips, beginning with Anshu’s detached, even proud, tone when speaking of their casualties, and only growing longer when he asked his final question.
‘Those other lives matter, too,’ Leon thought to himself as he forced himself not to focus entirely on Anna and her potentially mortal injuries. He had to remain objective. He was the King.
So, he straightened up and honestly answered, “I’m unsure. Metal Lance bolts made it through, I noticed, but not magical attacks.”
A slight smile flitted across Anshu’s face. “A trap, maybe? Something akin to the storm wall that protects Artorion?”
“I’ve never seen auras act like that before,” Leon admitted. “We’ll look into it later. For now, ensure that we have proper security as we recover.”
Anshu bowed before returning to his task as Fleet Admiral. Leon remained on the bridge, directing their strategy and listening to the updates even when he didn’t contribute much. His officers were competent, though, and they didn’t necessarily need much from him—not as much, at least, as he needed to be there to see it.
As he sat on the throne, Maia rested her hand on his shoulder—a strangely intimate gesture given how many other people could see them, but Leon didn’t mind. He leaned into her touch as her love pulsed in his soul realm. He returned it twice over, grateful for her presence. He noticed in this time, Lana and Graniton had also made it back, though he ordered them to stay with Anna. If something happened, they were to inform him immediately.
As minutes stretched to hours, the mobile arkyards arrived, having been stationed not too far away. Scout corvettes were dispatched in the direction Antipatra and Makarios had fled in—the next nearest plane in the Halorian Cluster. Their combined fleet—as much as it could be described that way instead of simply ‘Antipatra’s fleet’—had suffered worse than Leon’s had, but when they retreated, about ten or fifteen percent of their arks remained behind. More had been damaged, of course, but most of those had still been able to limp away.
Several of those arks were crippled but still relatively intact, and as legion transports followed the mobile yards, soldiers were dispatched to seize those arks. More, however, went to Urnos, ensuring that the situation on the ground reflected what it was in the Void.
‘But that might change,’ Leon thought with a brief, though sour, grimace. The reason he’d begun the attack was that Antipatra was due to receive reinforcements from her Despots. This battle hadn’t been decisive enough to stop that, or to render it moot.
When next they met, he knew that it might just be Antipatra that held the numerical and magical advantage, and not him…
---
With a sigh, Leon rose from his throne in his Mind Palace. What greeted him wasn’t too far from what he expected: the Thunderbird in her avian form on her stone perch, while the Great Black Dragon stood by the table he’d placed both the spear and the scale that he’d taken from Antipatra on.
It wasn’t hard for him to guess as to which of those objects had captured the dragon’s attention more—he was in human form, which was small enough to be almost lost in the shining brilliance of the White Dragon scale before him.
He was quiet as Leon approached. “Not the first time someone has had a dragon scale,” Leon said as he stared down at the thing in question, lying on the wooden table. “Despot Terris had a blue one.”
The Great Black Dragon had been staring at the scale impassively, though intensely, but once Leon had spoken, he scowled. “And you let him live?” he growled lowly.
Leon fought the urge to roll his eyes. “If you were around more often, you might’ve noticed that killing him was out of my capability at the time. And after the war was over, I was allied with the Ocean King’s daughter. Going after Terris then wasn’t an option.”
“No human hands should ever touch the shed scale of a dragon,” the dragon hotly responded.
Scratching his cheek, Leon asked, “Is that what this is? A ‘shed’ scale? Dragons shed? Like snakes?” He brushed his fingers against the white scale; the cracks he’d put into it had curiously faded after several hours…
“No,” the Great Black Dragon answered. “This is the scale of one of my brothers’ descendants. Most likely lost in battle. They can be dislodged if struck hard enough, and lost if negligent enough.”
Leon wondered what might have happened to put a White Dragon scale in Antipatra’s hands. Then again, he supposed that she was both supporting and being supported by a group that followed Khosrow, or was at least a vassal of Kamran. Either of them could’ve given her that scale, supposed that she didn’t buy it from someone or retrieve it herself.
“Kill her,” the Great Black Dragon commanded. “She profaned a scale. Splay her blood across the stars; let all who know her learn the consequences of despoiling even a fragment of a dragon.” He spoke calmly, but his authoritative tone told Leon all he needed to know about the depth of the dragon’s anger.
It was an anger he understood, if only because he felt it, too.
“She’ll meet her end,” Leon wrathfully rasped. “She’s done more than just take a scale from a brother Clan.”
A rustle of feathers, and Leon felt another presence beside him. “As have you.”
Anger was rapidly replaced with bewilderment as he turned to look at his favored Ancestor, now in human form, as she stared back at him.
“What does that mean?” he demanded.
“You have invaded and suffered losses,” she replied, her tone simple and matter-of-fact. “She, ostensibly at least, defends these planes. Would there have been such death and destruction if you had never come?”
His bewilderment growing, Leon asked in a tone that was now far more confused than it was angry, “What… what do you mean? I would’ve thought you’d be all in on the ‘kill Antipatra’ boat… You’ve many times said to me that power is all that matters, and now you’re trying to remind me of the cost of war?” Leon could feel a soreness in his neck as if he’d suffered actual whiplash, and he pinched the bridge of his nose in consternation.
The exchange drew the Great Black Dragon’s attention, and he said, “You make a weakling’s point. I hadn’t thought my opinion of you could fall any further.”
The Thunderbird dismissively snorted. “I say this because someone must, not because I believe it. Leon, my boy, my brave boy…” She took his face in her hands and forced him into eye contact. “I have always said that power comes first, not that power is everything. I do not believe you should grow complacent or abandon your conquests—far from it, I want you to restore my Clan to preeminence in this universe, and woe to all who would stand between you and that goal. But I also don’t want you to become too disconnected with what you’re doing here. All conquerors are hated in their time. You had to know that your conquests would bring some level of powerful response. The powerful cannot do anything without some other power moving to curb them. And my Clan has more enemies than most…”
Leon sighed and summoned a chair to collapse into. “Nothing changes,” he said as he closed his eyes and leaned back so that the back of his head met the table. “Antipatra wasn’t here to defend this cluster. She came here to kill me. There is no other explanation; Makarios was here for millennia, and before him, there was no one. These planes were left to their own devices in the aftermath of the Clan’s fall, with no one from the Nexus caring enough about them to conquer them before me. That doesn’t change just as I venture out into the planes. Coincidences happen, but this is… too coincidental.”
“Hm. I agree.” The Thunderbird circled the table until she stood opposite the Great Black Dragon. “So long as you remember that power is the key to victory, but power will always be challenged. That is the nature of the universe.”
Leon clenched his jaw and sighed through his nose. “Will the scale help in any way?”
The Great Black Dragon said, “Though it is but the scale of a descendant, my brother’s powers over life still run through it. It will more readily respond to you than it did to the arrogant wench.”
Leon leaned back up and spun around to examine the scale. “It can defend against my black lightning.”
Both the Great Black Dragon and the Thunderbird were silent, until the dragon said, “It doesn’t surprise me that life repels death. They are natural opposites.”
“What else can it do?”
The Great Black Dragon’s answer this time was as short in the coming as his previous answer was long. “It will heal. It is life given form. Other uses exist, but all would involve the scale’s destruction. I will not allow that.”
Life. A powerful word, and one that Leon filed away for later.
“I should place it in my armor, then?”
“Yes.”
Leon set about doing just that. Powerful though Clear Day was, he had to assume that a White Dragon scale was going to be stronger than his pearl…
---
“You are called before your King,” Anshu said from where he stood beside Leon, “to answer for your reckless disregard for the chain of command.”
Leon was sitting in a high-backed chair in a private room. Few others were with them, amounting only to Maia, Red, and his Paladins, sans Lana, who remained with the still-unconscious Anna. Kneeling before him was the Booming Brown Bear, Red-Knuckle, who had so skillfully commanded a fleet during the conquest of the Demetrion and Yun Clusters that Leon had seen fit to make him the second-in-command of Menander’s fleet. And in the battle over Urnos, the section of the fleet he’d commanded had gone rogue, accelerating beyond what Anshu had ordered it to, leaving not only itself but the entire fleet vulnerable to a potential counterattack. Only the aggressiveness of the rest of the fleet saved Red-Knuckle’s high group.
“I can only beg for your forgiveness, my King,” Red-Knuckle said, the shame in his voice audible to everyone. “I did what I could, but I lost control of the arks you entrusted to me.”
“How?” Anshu harshly demanded.
Leon momentarily glanced at his Fleet Admiral. Anshu had pressed hard for immediate and severe punishments for every Captain and Commodore in Red-Knuckle’s fleet, up to and including Red-Knuckle himself. He’d also all but demanded that this judgment take place in a more public setting so that all the fleet’s officers could bear witness.
Leon, however, had insisted on the more private setting. The rest of the fleet’s officers were furious, and it would take some time for their anger to cool and for objectivity to return. He refused to be influenced unduly by them, even in their silence.
“Those under my command…” Red-Knuckle began hesitantly, “… are mostly composed of survivors from the battle that claimed the honorable Menander’s life, and so many others. Brothers were lost in fire to Makarios and Antipatra. Vengeance was desired above all else. I attempted to maintain control, but… I failed.”
“At best, you failed,” Anshu corrected, his tone nearly making the lower-ranked Admiral flinch. “At worst, you encouraged, or even ordered, this insubordination, and are only backtracking on it to save your hide.”
“Every officer on my bridge can confirm my orders!” Red-Knuckle insisted. “My arks disobeyed me!”
“Your defense is to plead incompetence?” Anshu pressed, taking a few threatening steps toward Red-Knuckle. “I do not find it convincing.”
“Anshu,” Leon whispered, and the Fleet Admiral went silent and halted in place. “I understand your anger. But restrain yourself.”
Anshu took a deep breath, then returned to Leon’s side.
Leon then addressed Red-Knuckle. “You admit this was your failure?”
“I do,” Red-Knuckle stated, raising his head as high as he dared in Leon’s presence. “Were I a better leader, my Captains wouldn’t have ignored me in favor of seeking their vengeance.”
“Their zeal to defeat the enemy should be commended,” Leon said, drawing looks of surprise not just from Anshu and Red-Knuckle but also from everyone in the room. “However,” he continued before Anshu could interject with a protest, “such failures… such lapses in discipline, cannot go unpunished. And as the leader of the undisciplined, you must also be punished.”
Red-Knuckle closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, determination could be seen behind his thick red beard. “I will not shirk from my duty, even if it is to pay for my failure.”
“Your attitude is appreciated,” Leon said. “I do not need to question your ark’s lower officers; I know that you are not so incompetent or insubordinate that you would let this happen. But there must be a punishment. Given the circumstances, it must be harsh, else discipline might slip throughout the entire fleet. What would you suggest?”
He already had something in mind, but he still wanted to know what Red-Knuckle thought his punishment ought to be. However, before he could respond, Anshu cut back in.
“A hundred lashes for all ark commanders, with a standing order to only allow their wounds to heal naturally once the bleeding has stopped. For the commander of the group… two hundred.”
Red-Knuckle visibly flinched. The lashes would certainly be meted out by someone who could make it hurt, even for a tenth-tier mage like him. Red, if she cared enough. Leon knew that Anshu might just use the lash himself if he had to.
“One hundred all around,” Leon ordered. “The Captains will watch you before receiving theirs. Be strong, Red-Knuckle. I take no pleasure in this. Show them that you are a leader worth following.”
Red-Knuckle had been on a single knee during this exchange, but with that, he fell to both knees and lowered his head to Leon. “I will, my King. Your leniency… will never be forgotten.”
“Afterward,” he continued, “your arks will be kept in reserve. They’ll have to prove that they have found their discipline again before I trust them with battle.”
‘However much is possible, at any rate,’ he thought. Holding even some forces back when he was outnumbered in a place like the Void was a recipe for disaster. Still, the point had to be made.
Red-Knuckle again acknowledged his decision before returning to Storm Herald’s brig. He and the rest of the ark commanders would receive their lashes the following day. Anshu made it known that he would’ve preferred if they had also punished some of the lower-ranked officers on those arks along with their Captains, and to have at least some of the Captains replaced, but Leon refused to go that far. It was the first time they’d shown that level of insubordination before, and he was willing to give them another chance to prove themselves.
If they repeated their mistake, however…
Whatever the outcome, he knew that he’d find it soon. He was aware that his next engagement with Antipatra would come soon.
—-
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