There were few motivators quite as powerful as revenge. This wasn’t something that Leon needed any great reminder of, but he still found it remarkable as he stared out over Artorion just how much his people had been affected by Menander’s defeat. It was, quite simply, a cataclysmic shift in his people’s collective psyche—especially among his people descended from the Ten Tribes.
The news had been broken not long after Leon returned to his city. Given how many people had been lost, the scale that the response would necessitate, and how dire the situation out in that direction was, keeping Menander’s loss secret for long wasn’t going to fly. They had to announce it, and Leon personally went down into the city’s largest forum to announce the loss.
The city had gone into mourning almost immediately. But even then, there was a charge running through the streets, an energy that was impossible to deny. For centuries, Leon’s Kingdom had faced challenges, but they’d always achieved victory in the end. A defeat like this hadn’t been seen since the war with the Sunlit Empire, but that had been more limited simply due to the size of the Kingdom at the time.
‘How many of my warriors even remember that war?’ Leon idly wondered. The vast majority of the men and women in his armed forces were relatively young, having been born after the migrations to the Nexus had begun. His mid and high-level officers were largely old salts, but the rank-and-file was the domain of the young. Few of them personally remembered a time when his Kingdom had suffered any loss at all.
In their grief, whether by design or not, his people’s energies were directed. Recruitment for the fleets and legions, especially among the Tribes, had skyrocketed. The Lions had mobilized their entire Tribal army for the retaliatory expedition. Veterans from previous conflicts came out of retirement to avenge the honor of the Kingdom and make offerings of blood to the dead.
But Leon knew that he was going to need more, more of everything. But at least with this wave of recruitment, meat was relatively abundant; now, he just needed the metal.
The garrison fleet that would’ve reinforced Menander had been greatly strengthened. Arks from the home and frontier fleets were pulled and folded into a new task force. In a month, when new arks were due to come out of the arkyards, Leon would command a fleet more than double the size of Menander’s task force, and he would lead it out into the planes and avenge the Lion’s death. To do otherwise would be to lose far more than just one battle; he would lose much of his support within the otherwise rock-solid Tribal base.
Even if he disregarded the politics of the matter, though, Leon wouldn’t have responded any differently. Thankfully, he had time to spare, as while the remnants of Task Force Torfinn had been routed from Makarios’ planar cluster, neither Makarios nor his mysterious Burning Lord ally had pursued beyond those borders. They were either waiting for reinforcements of their own, or…
“This is likely to be a trap,” Cassandra said. Leon had noticed his wives join him on the terrace, all of them making a statement by dressing in all black, even though there wasn’t anyone around who could see them, aside from him.
Leon bitterly smiled as a low growl of agreement rumbled in his throat.
“Should we ask anyone for help?” Elise asked, her voice nervous and strained as if she feared his response.
Calmly, Leon replied, “No. We don’t need it. Not yet.”
“That ‘yet’ doesn’t fill me with confidence,” Elise stated.
He turned to face them, meeting Elise’s worried gaze first before turning to less worried but still concerned Cassandra and Maia. “We have the strength to answer, so we should. I’d rather not ask anyone else for help in something that is our business alone. On the offense, we do all that we can ourselves. Reserve calls for aid for defensive fights.”
Elise didn’t look particularly comforted, but she dropped the matter, choosing instead to walk over and press herself against Leon’s side. “Cassie and I will keep Artorion safe. Go and kill our enemy.”
Leon cocked an eyebrow, his golden eyes turning again to Maia.
“I’m going with you,” she declared, her tone brooking no argument.
Leon didn’t need to verbally respond. Their connection was enough for her to feel his joy at her presence.
“This is all well and good,” Cassandra said as she walked over to the terrace’s stone railing, “but this is still likely a trap. And you’re taking the bait.”
“There’re other possibilities,” Leon said. “But I’m keeping potential traps in mind.”
“Archelaus has been raising quite the fuss,” Cassandra continued.
“Those other Despots continue to ignore him,” Leon stated. “He’s just anxious about me leaving right now.”
“It is a singularly terrible time for this.”
“It has to be done.”
“That doesn’t change what I said.”
“It doesn’t.”
Cassandra sighed. She turned to lean against the railing and leveled her ruby eyes onto Leon, her golden blond hair billowing softly in the wind. “Get this done quickly, Leon. Then get back here. I can’t help but think that Alderion is going to learn of Ramin’s death and make his move while you’re gone. And without you, where would we be?”
Leon remained silent. He knew how campaigns could take longer than was wanted or estimated. Instead, he just smiled confidently and took his wives inside to give them a proper goodbye.
But still, Cassandra’s words didn’t leave his mind; this intervention of Burning Lords in his campaign reeked, and he couldn’t help but wonder what else might be waiting for him in the black…
---
Despite being smaller than the five task forces put together, there was a different feeling when Leon stood before his assembled armies and fleets now than when he’d done so almost a year ago, when the campaign began. There had been anticipation and excitement back then, a sense of standing on the verge of greatness, of having the restoration of something long lost close at hand.
Now, there was anger. It was focused, given deadly form, but it could be tasted on the air, seen in the eyes of every warrior on the field, and heard in the shouted orders of every officer. Leon could feel it ripple across his skin with every magical pulse from every ark in the skies above.
‘They’re ready,’ he thought as his eyes flitted across the field of assembled legion soldiers. He was only bringing ten legions with him, fewer than the number of legions who’d been assigned to Task Force Torfinn to begin with. However, those legions had largely been untouched in the battle, having hung back while the fleets were meant to do the main job. So, once he linked up with the survivors, he’d have more than enough ground power to deal with whatever threat presented itself.
Still, if he needed more warriors, the recruitment drive had gone so well that they’d almost had to turn many potential recruits away. The anger his army felt in the wake of this defeat was reflected in the rest of his Kingdom—the core of it, at any rate, as recruitment numbers had been lower in the cities of the Far West and lower still out in the planes. Regardless, there was still an enormous strategic reserve he could call upon, if needed.
Beside him stood Xanthippe, the Lioness now the strongest member of her Tribe. She’d trained hard in these past weeks, and Leon had given her Tribe no small amount of ambrosia, allowing her to just barely achieve Apotheosis not even a week ago. Though she was still settling into her power, she assured him that she was ready for war.
On his other side stood Anshu. He would be in command of the fleet, being placed in charge of the largest force that Leon’s Kingdom had ever assembled. It was a heavy responsibility, but Leon was confident in his abilities.
Aside from them, he was bringing his most trusted and powerful followers with him. All of his Paladins were joining him—Anna, Lana, Zhang, Daryun, and their newest member, the tenth-tier giant Graniton, standing with them in a twelve-foot-tall shell that shone with Aurichalcum plating and Lumenite gleaming in the seams. Anna, Zhang, and Daryun had all achieved Apotheosis by this point, so their strength was without question. Lana was still only ninth-tier, while Graniton had done what no stone giant had ever done and ascended to the tenth-tier.
In the past, giants were typically guaranteed to reach the fifth-tier, but growing stronger than that was much harder for them—in this, they were much like magical beasts, having considerable innate strength, but limited capacity for growth. Since exchanging their stone bodies for metal frames made by Nestor, however, their innate strength had grown, leaving the average giant now at the seventh-tier rather than the fifth.
Nestor theorized that since their bodies were made entirely out of magic, the shell they chose to inhabit had a much greater effect on their overall power than anyone had previously thought. Leon fully believed that theory, as most giants who ascended only did so after transferring into new bodies. The theory had also reminded him that the most prominent stone giants of the Border Mountains tended to have notable physical features as well—such as Lapis, with its prominent blue lapis lazuli within its stone body.
Leon put those thoughts out of his mind for the time being; he was sure that Graniton would serve him well, so he focused on the war to come. He stepped up to the edge of the rostrum so that all could see him, and with his voice backed up by his power, he spoke for all to hear.
“We lost a great man recently, and with him, many thousands of great men and women. In our campaign to restore what we lost so long ago, a Burning Lord intervened, preventing us from completing our righteous task. This will not go unanswered! We go now into the dark, and when we return, victory shall fill our hearts!”
Short and to the point, but it struck the right chords within the warriors, who raised their weapons and began shouting in support. Leon reveled in the display for a moment before ordering his task force to begin moving out. It was time to show their Ancestors that they can rest easy, knowing that they would be avenged…
---
Communication with the planes was always difficult. The sheer vast distances involved could hardly be understood even by the most powerful of mages. Many ways had been devised to get around that limitation, but few and far between were the communication systems that could allow two people to communicate instantly when on opposite sides of the universe.
One such method available to Storm Lords was the Thunder Beacons, scattered throughout the universe by old Storm Kings. The other six Elemental Lands had similar communication infrastructure, too, though all of it was immensely expensive to operate, leaving communication with them unfettered only for the Elemental Kings. Everyone else had to pay for the privilege of using that infrastructure.
What Basileus Triton beheld before him, however, was not any communication system that was in common use. It was a simple glass orb, within which hovered dozens of different drops of blood. He didn’t know to whom all of those drops of blood belonged, but he suspected that they were Lordly allies, and that it was their blood that allowed them to communicate. He recalled having some of his blood taken when first inducted into their small community, though Anax Tsunaros had not given him any answers at the time.
He sighed at the thought. Anax Tsunaros had been a fifteenth-tier water mage and one of the greatest champions of the cause of humanity in living memory. When Ocean King Icharidon brought an end to his own life the day before his ten millionth birthday, Tsunaros had made a play for the open throne. In a cataclysmic duel, he was killed by Ahndhas Gargan in single combat, giving Gargan nominal control over the Ocean Lords and of Triton himself.
Since he was based in the King’s Ocean, Triton at least had to pretend to obey, but he remembered Tsunaros’ nobility, his commitment to the betterment of mankind. He would never forget it, and in his estimation, if he were even half as great a champion as Tsunaros had been, he would still be a shining paragon of humanity, a shield against the impurities that threaten their rightful position in the universe.
His ruminations came to an end as runes, otherwise invisible, illuminated on the surface of the glass orb. Within, an ancient rune also illuminated, one that connected all of the drops of blood to a core of power at the center of the orb.
In a moment, Triton knew that his image was being broadcast to all other holders of similar orbs, though only a dozen were projected for him. He noted the absence of the Sun King, though others that he both did and did not recognize appeared before him. He saw noble Akeron, taking a break from aiding great Sasan, listening in on his update. He saw Lord Kamran’s usual place shining, indicating that the cunning hero was listening even though he wasn’t bothering to project his image. A handful of others were also present, though Triton didn’t recognize them on sight. Instead, he had eyes only for Antipatra, who wore such a wide grin of anticipation that it was a wonder that the top half of her head hadn’t fallen off yet.
“Triton,” Antipatra said, her voice ringing as clearly as it would if she were standing right next to him instead of speaking through their orb. Despite other, more important and powerful mages being present, no one interrupted her or appeared insulted that she was speaking first. “Has the bait been taken?”
“Yes,” Triton answered. “Leon Raime departed Artorion not even an hour ago. He leads a large fleet to ‘avenge’ the loss you inflicted upon him.”
Antipatra laughed. “He would be insulted by that, wouldn’t he be? Storm Lords are always predictable.” She cast her gaze in Lord Kamran’s direction, and Triton’s heart seized for a beat. Kamran, however, remained silent.
“The Thunderbird Clan has ever been hypocritical,” Triton stated. “They launch their own conquests, but cry foul when their victims fight back. It saddens me greatly to see their last chance at betterment succumb to their bloody legacy.”
“Don’t be sad,” Antipatra stated. “He is an animal, and only following his instincts. Still, I will put him down, ensuring the Storm Lands remain in the hands of humanity.”
Triton sighed, his worst fear coming to pass as Kamran finally spoke.
“Slaughter this young fool,” he growled, his gravelly voice laced with hatred. “The Thunderbirds are a blight upon the universe. Burn it, and give no quarter. Not for him, not for his mulish followers.”
“I wi—” Antipatra began, but Kamran cut her off.
“Spare him no measure, give him no opportunity to reverse his fortune. In all my years, I have seen the Thunderbirds seize victory even when victory seemed out of reach. It is no coincidence that they ruled the Storm Lands for so long.”
“There is no—” Antipatra again started, but once more, Kamran cut her off in a manner that suggested to Triton was deliberate.
“And when you’re done, send me his head, if it is yet intact. The Lady of All-Fortune watched over his line, keeping it from me. I want to see with my own eyes that she has abandoned this foul bloodline.”
“See to your own war,” Akeron growled, his patience clearly stressed. “I would’ve thought that you’d have defeated Halbast by now. Do you need help?”
Kamran audibly scoffed. “Do not press me, Akeron. You are not as important to our plans as you may believe yourself to be.”
Triton stifled a gasp. He was old enough to know that all organizations were prone to some level of factionalism, but in this great endeavor, he had hoped that their members would set aside such petty conflicts. Hearing Kamran and Akeron bicker, however, was greatly disheartening.
“I will speak with you later, Kamran,” Akeron hissed. “See to your duties, Antipatra. And you, Triton. See the last taint of the Thunderbirds scoured from the universe.”
Without another word, his projection vanished, as did all but the formless light in Kamran’s place.
“We are under attack,” the man said without preamble, taking both Triton and Antipatra off guard. “Other forces move out in the universe. I have been countering them as best as I can without compromising my position against Halbast. End this festering wound, this pus-filled boil. And then turn your attention to the universe. We must be ready by the Nexus’ next Reconstitution, and the universe must be as sterilized as possible by then.”
He spoke no more, and after a second, his light flickered out. Triton only shared a look with Antipatra before they mutually ended the call. She would kill Leon Raime out in the planes, and he would invade Leon’s territory in the Nexus. He just had to wait until Leon Raime was committed out in the Great Strand of Rhea, and then he could make his move…
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