Cold dread settled in Leon’s stomach as Archelaus ran through everything he knew about Alderion’s approach. A glance around the room told him that while he was doing a fine enough job of concealing that dread, few others matched him.
Anshu was stoic, his face practically made of stone, but he was clenching and unclenching his hands on his chair’s armrest. Several other generals and admirals were noticeably sweating. Anzu was shifting beside Leon, while he could hear Zhang and Daryun’s heartbeats from where they were standing by the doors.
His highest officers and ministers had assembled in Flash Fortress to hear the new situation. All of the leaders in his city who weren’t helping with the reconstruction were present, along with his most important vassals. Tribal elders, Theron, Illum, and Ingrid, along with a few of the latter two’s Strategoi who had followed them to war, all sat or stood beside Leon’s officers, ministers, and Paladins. They had been called away from whatever else they’d been doing to hear this new challenge and to present him with options for dealing with it. But as Archelaus went on, what few options they had only dwindled.
Archelaus had projected a running estimate of the forces that Alderion had assembled and was leading westward. The man was an Anax, a fourteenth-tier mage, and possessed far greater might by every metric than Triton or Antipatra. Leon had beaten both of the Basileis, but had only done so at great cost, and now, barely a week after Triton’s defeat, he was facing down someone considerably more dangerous.
‘At least Miuna made good on her promise,’ he thought. Though her promised war reparations weren’t going to arrive for a while, Triton’s fleet had cleared the Storm Lands and had dived back beneath the waves of the King’s Ocean. ‘Small mercy that all of my available forces can now look east…’
Those forces had been ravaged, plain and simple. From a prewar fleet of nearly fifteen thousand war arks, and thousands more logistics arks on top of that, to a force that had only about five thousand war arks in any state of readiness for battle—and two thousand of those were commanded by Ingrid, Illum, and Archelaus. Other arks were still intact and being repaired, but Leon doubted how many of them would be ready in time. Some reinforcements were coming from Aeterna, but the plane wasn’t nearly as militarized as others had been or were planned to be; a state of affairs that Leon insisted on out of respect for Ambrose. He couldn’t count on much from Kataigida, save for a safe and wealthy harbor in case everything else went to the hells.
Alderion, on the other hand, had assembled a fleet of ten thousand arks, counting only those built for direct combat—a massive fleet, but only a relatively small portion compared to the fleets he possessed out in the planes. This, Archelaus had told them, was but a small force that he was able to call up on short notice, as the order to assemble had only been given less than two weeks ago.
This was the strength of an Anax, one of the strongest mages in the universe. Less than a thousand fourteenth-tier mages were Lords in the Nexus, and their domains out in the planes were vast. They counted their realms not in planes, but in entire strands, sometimes even Great Strands. The resources they could call upon utterly dwarfed what Leon possessed, and in only a week, there was simply no way for him to make up that difference.
The dark silence that fell over the chamber as Archelaus finished his estimate of Alderion’s force told Leon that their severe position was not lost on anyone.
“He’ll enter my territory in five days at his current speed,” Archelaus continued when it became clear that no one was going to speak up. “He’ll come from the southeast, flying over the Drum Desert. His current trajectory will take him to Archelion rather than Artorion, but… Despot Mani told me that he was publicly furious and ranting about King Leon when he ordered the muster. I imagine he’ll be turning to follow the coast once he’s past the desert.”
Another silence fell, and Leon felt eyes turn to him, looking for any guidance whatsoever.
He allowed himself a moment to indulge in the indignity of the situation, silently roaring in the privacy of his own mind, ‘Can’t deal with a single fucking crisis before another one shows up! Can’t even wait for us to recover before this fucking Ancestors damnit!’ Then, he disciplined himself and forced himself to consider the situation as objectively as he could, searching for anything at all that they could use to win.
“Has he contacted anyone at this time?” He glanced at Anshu, acting as de facto Marshal while the Jaguar was still missing, and Clear, who was in charge of his Diplomatic Corps. His eyes then slid to Ingrid and Illum before returning to Archelaus. Illum, at least, had been sworn to Basileus Ramin, but his Nexus territory lay east of Archelaus’, and it seemed like Alderion was going to pass him by entirely.
Ingrid just shook her head, while Illum firmly stated, “No.”
Clear and Anshu indicated the same.
“I’ve received no word of communication from Archelion,” Archelaus stated. “The only warning I had about Alderion’s move was because I still have some friends within his ranks.”
“Thank the Ancestors for that,” someone murmured. Leon didn’t bother to see who.
“That doesn’t bode well for his intentions,” Clear said.
“He was clear about ‘disciplining the upstart Lord in the west’ before setting out,” Archelaus explained. “He’s finally learned of Ramin’s death, it seems, and he’s furious that two of his Despots swore themselves to Leon.” Archelaus exchanged a pointed look with Illum, but Leon was gratified to see that neither looked like they wanted to run away or to turn away from him.
“Then we prepare for another war,” Leon said. “How quickly can we move? I’d rather not meet him over Artorion if there is better ground.”
“This valley is our most defensible position,” one of his admirals said.
“It would also cede the entire east to our foe,” Anshu countered.
Leon nodded. Archelaus had sworn himself to Leon, and if Leon wouldn’t even try to protect his territory, then what sort of Lord was he? What sort of King could he hope to be if he abandoned everyone in the Ancestor Grassland? If he left Alhamachim in the Bolt Mountains to the mercies of a furious Anax? If he simply hid in Artorion, hoping that the mountains that had been repeatedly penetrated by Triton could stand against someone even stronger than him?
“The Bolt Mountains might be our best shot,” Marcus said, accepting Leon’s desire to keep this fight away from areas already ravaged by war. “Our defenses here are breached and still in need of significant repairs. But Triton didn’t make it that far east, and the defenses along that border, while relatively sparse, are at least completely intact.”
Leon considered the area as the projection dominating the center of the room, shifted from Archelaus’ estimate of Alderion’s strength to a map of his Nexus holdings. Since he and Archelaus had been on reasonably good terms for a long while, the Bolt Mountains hadn’t been all that fortified. The buffer zone established between them after Leon’s initial Nexus conquests, ruled by the city of Genesos, had held, at least until Archelaus had sworn himself to Leon, and there never seemed to be much need for heavy defenses in that area.
The city of Alhamachim, however, had come to Leon under rather violent circumstances, and given that the city had been raided by pirates he hadn’t been able to kill in time, and their proven loyalty in sticking with him over Strategos Djoser, they’d been granted certain privileges, including the right to fortify their hinterland—at least, to an extent. The mountains around Alhamachim were not comparable to those around Artorion, but they would at least level the playing field, and hopefully protect the more vulnerable Ancestor Grassland from further depredations from an external foe.
“Resisting him there might give us more time to prepare,” Archelaus conceded, “but the territory of three of my Strategoi lie along Alderion’s path to the Bolt Mountains, none of whom participated in the war against Triton. If we moved within the day, we could reach the edge of the Drum Desert in time to meet Alderion there. There are fewer static defenses along that frontier even than the relatively light defenses around Alhamachim, but I could mobilize those Strategoi and add… hmm… a thousand, perhaps fifteen hundred arks to our force.”
Leon frowned in thought. They’d have to leave within the day if they wanted to reach the Drum Desert in time, so fewer of his arks might be repaired in time for any potential battle. But Alderion would reach that frontier in less than a week and would reach the Bolt Mountains only a day or two later. Not even ten days—hardly much time for serious repair work to be done. A few hundred arks could be made battle-ready in that time, if he were lucky.
‘And the cost would only be three Strategoi in Alderion’s way…’
Leon shook his head. It was his duty as a King to protect all of his subjects that he feasibly could. He foresaw a better battle at the Drum Desert with a larger fleet and fewer static defenses than at the Bolt Mountains with a smaller fleet and more, though still meager, static defenses.
“We’ll meet Alderion at the desert’s edge,” Leon decided. “Fleet Admiral Anshu, have the fleet on the move before the day is done.”
“That will be… difficult, but not impossible,” Anshu stated. “It will be done.”
Leon nodded gratefully. He looked around the room, seeing no small amount of fatigue tinged with despair among those there for the meeting. However, at worst, those in the chamber looked resigned, while more than a few wore looks of dreadful determination. No one wanted this fight, but all were willing to fight. Even Theron, Ingrid, Illum, and Archelaus, all of whom had the fewest reasons to fight, were with him.
Leon felt pressure build behind his face as his eyes began to sting. For a moment, he was nearly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of faith that all of these people had in him and his Kingdom, and he nearly broke down in front of all of them.
But after a few rapid blinks and sheer grit, he suppressed that flood of emotion, steadied his voice, and ordered everyone to move out. He, meanwhile, had to visit his wives. They were the highest-ranking people in his Kingdom who were not present at this meeting since they were largely coordinating the reconstruction, reclamation, and resettlement process.
‘Miuna’s also here,’ he thought with a quick frown. ‘I’ll have to tell her. Not like I’ll be able to keep this secret. Maybe she’ll be able to help?’
As the meeting chamber emptied, Leon, accompanied by Tempest Knights and all of his Paladins, returned to Westmount, intending to visit the Diluvian Princess to inform her of what was happening and, as subtly as he could, see what help she could render. However, as he landed, he noticed that Veles was still in the same courtyard that he’d been left in, quietly speaking with Sar. The Hart had several of his Chiefs with him, all of whom were engaging Veles in conversation, while the pallid man looked overjoyed to be speaking with so many people.
Despite everything that was going on, Leon was sorely tempted to head down there first. However, that group seemed cordial enough, and he forced himself to focus on the current disaster. As he made his way toward Miuna’s guest chamber, he ran through a quick checklist of people to consult with. Miuna, followed by his wives, then Nestor, and then he’d be able to see what Sar and Veles—
“Your Majesty!” Alcander called out as he landed not far behind Leon. The commander of Leon’s Tempest Knights was not a man easily panicked, but Leon could still see that emotion cracking through him as he and several other Tempest Knights landed behind him. Then, even more concerning, came Clear, racing after him.
‘What fucking now?!’ Leon thought as he put in the most effort yet to keep his expression calm.
After racing over, Alcander said, “Arks have appeared around the Lion’s Portal!”
“They haven’t offered any identification!” Clear added.
Leon’s heart skipped a beat, and it took a titanic amount of self-control not to just shout in frustration at the sky. “How… how many?” he hissed.
“Our arks estimated a thousand war arks before they retreated to the Nexus side,” Alcander stated.
“Only a thousand?” Leon asked with a bitter smile. “At this point, that seems almost… tiny…”
Alcander cracked a nervous grin. “If they intend to only lock down their side of the portal…”
Leon lightly grimaced. The portal back to the Void wasn’t that wide when fleets were now measured in the thousands instead of dozens. It was a tight funnel that even a thousand arks could hold relatively easily. This was part of the reason why his defenses on the Void side were always relatively light—the defense doctrine was to simply retreat to the more easily-secured side if enemies ever appeared on that side of the portal, as the defenses on the Nexus-side would obliterate them as they came through.
Such was the plan before Triton destroyed his defenses on the Nexus-size, however…
“Get word to my wives,” Leon ordered Alcander. “Start with Elise. Have her meet with Princess Miuna on my behalf.”
“And you?” Alcander asked.
“I’ll go and see who leads these arks myself. If they’re with Alderion… I’ll make sure they regret coming to this Kingdom for the rest of their short lives…”
Strong words, but Leon hadn’t fought since the battle with Triton, and he wasn’t sure if he’d fare better or worse than he had against Triton and Antipatra. But at this point, he didn’t have the luxury of a more careful and systemic approach to evaluating his strength. He didn’t have the time to repair his armor and replace his helmet. He’d have to fight anyway…
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Upon arriving at the Lion’s Portal, much of Leon’s worry had bled away from him. On some level, just moving around to personally handle this business with Iron Pride ready was cathartic, but the release of his worry stemmed more from the fact that the newly arrived arks weren’t trying to force their way through the portal. Instead, they were apparently waiting patiently on the other side. Not promising, but at least they weren’t hurling themselves upon his war-ravaged Kingdom and causing even more damage.
Leon waited only a moment before plunging into the portal. Fleet elements were coming to help him, but he could feel his blood growing hot as he thought about what was beyond the portal. Even in his uncertain condition, he was confident he could at least bloody the nose of whoever was leading that fleet. His Paladins joined him, loyal to the last. Following them came a thousand Tempest Knights. The order had taken severe casualties during the war they’d just emerged from, but he still had a thousand knights at his back.
As Leon emerged from the portal on the Void-side, he expected his emergence to be immediately contested, or at least to be greeted by a dense blockade, a thousand arks ready to stop anyone from escaping as Alderion pushed into his Kingdom.
He wasn’t expecting the thousand arks to be standing off hundreds of miles away, nor a floating pavilion to have been set up close to, but not right in front of, the portal’s exit. One man stood on the pavilion, his arms crossed across his chest as he waited. He wore no armor, choosing instead to clad himself in a simple blue shirt and gray trousers. It was a humble picture, and one that didn’t fit at all with the man that Leon knew him to be.
And Leon did know this man; though their acquaintance was brief, it had been violent and left him with few, if any, good feelings toward the man. He was Basileus Triyr, whom Leon had last met on Voidshore on the way to Belicenion. Triyr had challenged Leon to a duel after demanding that he give him Storm Herald, among other things, and accepted Basileus Morui as his second. Morui had demanded that Leon turn over his wives to serve as Morui’s concubines, and Triyr had added that demand to his list.
Leon shuddered to think of what might have been if he’d lost the duel against Triyr. Despite losing to Leon, Triyr hadn’t even rendered the requested public apology that Leon had wanted. He’d locked himself away following his loss to Leon, and after he awoke, left Voidshore without a word.
That had been more than a decade ago, and Leon had heard nothing at all from Triyr since then.
Leon bathed the pavilion in his magic senses, his magic thick enough to disrupt any invisibility enchantments that might conceal anyone on it. No one appeared, though Triyr straightened up a bit as Leon essentially announced his presence.
Seeing that everything seemed safe-ish, Leon silently ordered his people to stay behind. If Triyr came here and presented himself alone despite their history, Leon felt like he could at least hear the man out. He wondered if there might even be a chance to avoid conflict, which would be the best-case scenario, but he didn’t entertain the thought for long. After all, he doubted that this was going to go well when everything else was metaphorically on fire, too…
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