Surrounded by the burning wreckage of hundreds of arks, Leon finally allowed himself to start relaxing. Lana and Graniton were with him, along with several dozen Tempest Knights, though by the time they had fought through the crumbling lines of Antipatra’s fleet to reach him, the battle had essentially already been won.
There were a few pockets of resistance left, but Leon could see that Anshu had set Xanthippe and the Lions, along with Red-Knuckle and the other survivors of Menander’s fleet, upon them. Driven by vengeance and the powerful desire to regain their honor and pride, Leon knew that the warriors finishing the battle were not going to take prisoners—nor was he particularly inclined to force them to after Eirenaios bombarded an entire plane into lifelessness.
Makarios’ fleet was largely unscathed, due in no small part to the bombs that Leon had given him. They had practically disabled all of Antipatra’s arks around Makarios, along with Aristarchos’ arks, leaving them so vulnerable to Makarios that they were destroyed almost without a fight. One hundred and fifty arks or so, and they killed nearly a quarter of Antipatra’s fleet with their well-timed move.
But Leon paid little attention to any of that; instead, it was the far distance, where Eirenaios’ ark had almost broken through to escape, that held his attention. At least two hundred Void-colored arks had arrived just in time to cut Eirenaios off and obliterate his ark in a withering salvo of lightning. That alone told Leon that it was a Storm Lord who had come, but he didn’t recognize the arks.
Fortunately, they were maintaining a safe distance from his fleet and made no hostile moves. Given how Anshu was behaving with the fleet, Leon guessed that the leader of that fleet had already contacted Storm Herald and explained themselves; that was the only explanation for Anshu only wheeling a portion of the fleet around to face the newcomers.
As he watched this fleet, Leon tracked several transport arks, small and imperceptible to mortal eyes, leaving the leading black ark and heading for Storm Herald. Leon began flying in the same direction, his part in this battle over.
‘Let the Lions and Red-Knuckle’s arks handle the rest…’
---
Leon practically marched through Storm Herald’s halls, his Paladins, several Tempest Knights, and some of his officers in tow. When Leon reached the meeting room where his guest had been taken, he pushed the door open without waiting to be announced. Within, he found a man, tall and dark-haired, and looking much healthier than the last time Leon had seen him. A measure of color had returned to his formerly pale skin, and he had no fangs, which he happily displayed in a broad smile.
“Leon!” Theron shouted.
“Theron!” Leon responded, his face lighting up. “By the Ancestors, what are you doing here?”
As he spoke, he crossed the room and clasped wrists with the former vampire.
“Had a bunch of Burning Lords cross by close to my territory,” Theron replied. “They cut their way through the Great Strand of Rhea, leaving some rather talkative garrisons behind. It was easy enough to figure out where they were going, and since they destroyed some of my enemies on their way through the Great Strand, I was able to follow.”
Theron’s smile faded slightly, and he added, “I’m sorry I got here so late. I couldn’t take too many of my arks and leave my planes defenseless, and avoiding their garrisons to not reveal our pursuit cost us time.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Leon said, his face under threat of being split in half by his smile. “You arrived just in time! Despot Eirenaios was about to escape!”
“Was that who commanded that dreadnought? I’m glad I arrived when I did, then; I hadn’t heard anything pleasant about that man.”
Leon was mildly curious about those stories, but Theron stiffened, then glanced around the room. He had his own followers present, including several tenth-tier mages. Leon had many of his own people with him, making for a fairly powerful audience—one that might demand a certain degree of formality.
A moment before Leon asked what was wrong, Theron dropped to a knee. “King Leon, you saved my life twice over some years ago: once from being executed by those Khosrow fanatics, and again by returning my humanity to me. I promised you my fealty in return, and today, I hope to formalize that offer. King Leon: will you accept me as your Strategos?”
A simple question, but one seriously—and formally—asked. Unlike the last time Theron brought up his fealty, Leon didn’t hesitate.
“Yes,” he said, holding out a hand for Theron. The eleventh-tier mage grinned, clasped Leon’s wrist, and Leon pulled him up. There would be discussions of details later, not to mention Theron would have his title changed from Strategos to Stellarch, not to mention another formal investiture ceremony at Artorion—assuming the city yet existed—but for the moment, this quick exchange was all that Leon needed.
“Come,” Leon said welcomingly. “This victory was hard fought and weeks in the making. We can’t celebrate it for too long as my Kingdom is under threat from other sides, but we can spare a short while, especially for a reunion with a friend.”
“Other sides?” Theron asked as Leon led everyone out of the conference room.
“Basileus Triton,” Leon stated through clenched teeth. “He attacked my Nexus holdings. Communication has been cut off. We’re going to stay here for only as long as needed, then we’re moving back toward the Nexus. This war isn’t over yet…”
“Hmm. Were it not so dire, I would almost be grateful for the opportunity to make up for my tardiness. Leon, I can spare more time away from my territory; please, allow me and my fleet to fight alongside you!”
Leon smiled as he led their group to a more comfortable place to catch up and wind down from the battle. “I would be remiss if I denied such a request. I’d be glad to have you along, Theron.”
With that settled, Leon relaxed as much as he could with Theron. Given everything that needed his attention, however, that time amounted to less than three hours. Still, as they parted, Theron reiterated his support, which Leon was grateful for. Two hundred additional arks would be a terrific boon for both his return to the Nexus and for his Kingdom afterward.
‘Assuming there is a Kingdom afterward…’
A morose thought, but now that Antipatra and her fleet were finished, Leon found it harder to push aside his worry for everyone he’d left behind in the Nexus. Elise, Cassandra, and too many others to count. He’d heard from none of them since the Lion’s Portal fell to Triton’s forces.
‘They’re fine.’ The thought came forced, and relieved none of the dread that had settled into Leon’s stomach weeks ago, and which could no longer be ignored.
However, Artorion and the rest of his people in the Nexus were doing, he’d soon find out; he was returning as soon as was feasible…
---
In the largest formal hall within Storm Herald—which, given the size constraints, was still relatively small, only allowing about five hundred people to comfortably stand within—Leon sat on a thunder wood chair. It was a simple thing, hardly much of a throne, but it suited him just fine.
On his right sat Maia, almost fully healed by now. To his left stood Zhang and Daryun, both also fully healed. On Maia’s right stood Lana and Graniton. In front of them all stood Anna, acting almost as Leon’s herald. Her aura was still shaky, but physically at least, she had recovered from her own wounds. He wanted her to take it easy until her soul realm fully healed, but she insisted on performing at least this small duty.
About two hundred other officers, led by Anshu, had assembled in the room to watch what was about to happen. Theron and several of his entourage were also present, eager to watch someone else bow to Leon mere hours after Theron had.
They didn’t wait longer than a minute before the doors on the far side of the hall opened and Makarios and several dozen of his officers strode confidently down the hall, almost marching like they were in a parade. The officers stopped some ways back, but Makarios didn’t stop until Anna held out her hand, halting him several paces from Leon.
“You stand before Leon of House Raime,” Anna stated, her voice so steady that one could almost forget the injury that still echoed in her aura. “Name yourself and state your business.”
Leon’s lips twitched upward as he imagined Elise or Gaius’ reactions to Anna’s short and to-the-point words. But given what was about to happen, he maintained a serious demeanor.
“I am Makarios, Emperor of the Halorian Cluster. I have come to lay my crown at your feet, Leon, and offer you my sword in war and my friendship and fidelity in peace.” He then slowly, but showing only a modicum of reluctance, dropped to both of his knees, conjured an elaborate golden crown, and tossed it on the floor before Leon. He then leaned forward, his head curling down until the back of his neck was exposed.
“If I were to accept,” Leon said, “you would lose your Imperial title. You would no longer be an Emperor, nor would you become my Strategos. Do you find that acceptable?”
With only a second of hesitation, Makarios answered, “Yes.”
“Then I accept your fealty, Makarios. Rise, and hear your first command.”
Makarios rose slowly, his movements measured, the quiver in his eye the only sign of his anxiety.
Once he was back on his feet, Leon said, “I am appointing you to the position of Stellarch of the Halorian Cluster. You will rule in my name, as a regional governor, subject to removal if you fail in your duties.”
Makarios didn’t so much as blink, though Leon noted a minute lessening of tension in his brow.
“It will be your responsibility to help assimilate the cluster into my Kingdom. Your armies will be integrated into the central command structure. Your fleets will be brought up to the new Thunderbird standard. You will defend the Kingdom from both external and internal threats, and follow all laws and regulations passed from my throne to the planes, and all orders given by me to you. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Makarios answered.
“Good. You won’t be expected to do this all on your own; you’ll be supported from Artorion—once we’ve solved this current… unpleasantness… Until then, you are dismissed. Return to the Halorian Cluster, and begin setting it to rights.”
Makarios bowed, stated, “By your leave,” and walked out of the hall, his officers following close behind. Leon could tell that they weren’t particularly happy, but given what he’d given them—both integration and autonomy—then they ought to consider themselves lucky. If Makarios hadn’t defected to Leon, then he and all of his followers would’ve been left to the tender mercies of the Lion Tribe and Red-Knuckle’s survivors.
‘Speaking of…’
Once Makarios was gone, another group entered, led by Red-Knuckle. The Bear walked with more grace and confidence than Leon had seen since he’d been deployed as Menander’s second-in-command. ‘Few things straighten backs quite like victory…’
Red-Knuckle and his attending officers halted before Leon and immediately genuflected, but didn’t rise until Leon said, “Rise.” Even when they followed his command, they all remained quiet, a nervous energy visible within them even though they were all motionless. Leon even spotted a few beads of sweat.
“After the defeat of Menander’s fleet,” Leon said, causing Red-Knuckle and several others to visibly flinch, “you men and women led the fleet in a retreat back to the Zer Cluster. Some may call this cowardice, and some may say that you dishonored yourselves with such an action.” He paused, noting that some of the other officers in the hall seemed to agree with that stated notion.
“I would disagree,” he continued, strangling that kind of thinking at its source. “You demonstrated incredible skill in keeping as many arks under your command intact as you did. For that, you are commended. Your subsequent actions over Urnos were, however, less than honorable. Haste and aggressiveness aren’t always bad, but blatantly ignoring your commanders cannot be tolerated. For that, you were punished, and though it was for a dishonorable act, every one of you withstood the punishment with grace and humility.
“Furthermore, since then, you have demonstrated nothing but the utmost professionalism. You have all fought magnificently, and though I do not believe that your first loss against Antipatra cost you your honor, I declare that, if it were ever tarnished, it is now restored!” Leon waved his hand and summoned his origin power; gold ribbons appeared on the shoulders of Red-Knuckle and his officers—marks of distinction and valor which, while not the most prestigious of awards in Leon’s Kingdom, were still more than enough to signify his renewed confidence in them.
“Your Majesty honors us,” Red-Knuckle said.
“I do nothing but respect displays of bravery and ability,” Leon responded. Red-Knuckle lowered his head in gratitude and, with that small ceremony over, led his officers out of the hall. Leon thought he sensed some of them beginning to weep with relief at their restoration to good standing, for though Leon made it known that they weren’t dishonored by defeat, the sentiment had still wound through the fleet—and only grew more entrenched after Red-Knuckle and his officers were punished for their insubordination. That sentiment demanded action, some way for Leon to show that in his eyes, Red-Knuckle’s fleet of survivors had been absolved of any dishonor still clinging to them.
This honor he’d given them should be enough, but he trusted in Red-Knuckle’s abilities, and he knew that future successes would wash away any lingering doubts.
Thankfully, that was the end of this formal meeting, and Leon and the rest of his people were able to relax slightly as they retired to a meeting room, and most of the officers returned to their duties. That left Leon with Maia, his Paladins, Anshu, and the rest of his personal adjutants, ready to hear the current state of affairs.
Anshu wasted no time, jumping right in the moment the door was shut behind them and the privacy wards were activated.
“We took only light casualties in this last battle,” Anshu declared. “Thanks to you, King Leon, the enemy was caught completely out of formation, and the defection of Stellarch Makarios further sent them into disarray. We lost only three corvettes, five frigates, two destroyers, and a light cruiser—and even then, most of their crews survived, and I’m told that most of the arks are salvageable, given enough time.”
“We don’t have much time, though,” Leon pointed out. “Every second we stay here is another that the enemy has to ravage Artorion…” He had intended to say more, but his throat tightened at the mention of his city. He wanted to believe that it still stood, but until he could see it with his own eyes, or hear the voices of his wives, then there would always be that ice-cold sliver of doubt…
“We will be ready to move within twelve hours,” Anshu reported. “Several of our arks still require some repair, and we’re still sweeping the debris field, ensuring that none of our enemies have escaped or survived within sealed ark compartments. Salvage and repairs to local infrastructure will have to be handled by our local garrison…”
Left unsaid was that the local garrison was not particularly large, nor did they have many arks. In fact, were it not for Leon needing every ark he could get his hands on, leaving the garrison in the state that it was currently in would’ve been almost insulting. Leon could only hope to resolve this crisis in the Nexus relatively quickly; otherwise, rebellions were going to break out in his newly-conquered territories with how thin he was being spread.
He was thankful that he didn’t have to spend years fighting Antipatra, but the campaign against Antipatra had only ended in its sixth week. That was more than enough time for a Basileus to do considerable damage to Artorion and Leon’s other Nexus holdings…
“What of the other fleets?” Leon asked.
“We will reach the rendezvous point in five days,” Anshu reported. “Once there, I do not believe we’ll have to wait for any longer than ten days for the other four Task Forces to join us. After that, we will only need another week to return to the Nexus, if we push the Nestorian Drives.”
Leon held his face in place. ‘More than three weeks…’ His heart sank at the thought. He was almost tempted to head back with only Storm Herald, as the ancient ark could easily return to the Nexus in at least ten days, perhaps as quickly as a week…
… but he restrained himself. The force that Triton had taken to the Far West demanded greater caution.
‘So be it,’ he thought reluctantly. He thought of everyone back in Artorion, from his family and friends to the people he ruled, who counted on him for their protection and prosperity. ‘Hold out. Hold out. We’re coming…’
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