A roar thundered across the Drum Desert, thundering so powerfully that dunes collapsed and the dust storm in the distance flexed and curled further south. Leon hovered in the middle of it all, having returned to human form, and held Alderion’s mangled head in his hands. He basked in the roar, which came from no expression of power, but was simply his people in their arks shouting their elation at seeing their King victorious.
He resisted the urge to smile, set a stern, quietly threatening expression on his face, and then turned to face Alderion’s fleet. With the booming joy of his people behind him, he raised Alderion’s head for all to see, and the roaring only grew louder.
In mere seconds, Leon watched Alderion’s fleet disintegrate. A third of his assembled arks immediately turned and flew back into the dust storm, racing homeward—whether out of lack of desire to stay when their Anax was dead or fear of Leon, he couldn’t say. Another third began breaking apart into smaller fleets and spreading out, looking almost like they were preparing for hostilities between themselves and Leon’s fleet. But given how divided they were, it would’ve been child’s play for Leon’s fleet to handle them. They were no longer facing ten thousand arks and a fourteenth-tier mage, but a disunited horde of dozens of other mages, none likely even approaching the power needed to take on Leon directly.
Whatever they were planning didn’t come to pass, however, and these smaller detachments began retreating, too. Leon noted Joramhal, the thirteenth-tier mage who’d acted as Alderion’s second in the duel, spared him a profoundly dissatisfied look, then turned away. He and a ‘small’ fleet of five hundred arks were among those that eventually retreated.
The final third remained, hovering at the edge of the dust storm in a manner that Leon could only describe as ‘uncertain’.
“Congratulations,” Triyr said as he approached Leon from behind. “That was a spectacular duel. I don’t think anyone was expecting it to end nearly as quickly as it did.”
Leon smirked. “You put up a greater fight against me than Alderion did.”
Triyr both averted his gaze out of embarrassment while also donning a proud smile.
“Thank you,” Leon continued, drawing Triyr’s surprised gaze back to him. “For standing with me. That could have gone very badly for you, but you took the risk for me anyway. I will remember that.”
“I was indebted,” Triyr stated simply. “I could do no less.”
“You could have done much less,” Leon countered. “Return with me to Artorion, if you have the time. You could join our celebration.”
A long silence stretched between them, and Leon could see Triyr visibly contemplate the offer. When he made his decision, an almost guilty look flashed across his face, and he said, “I appreciate the offer, but I ought to return to my lands. But… if you’re willing, I might return in a few years. I’m still interested in much of what your lands produce, and I’d like to acquire some of it. By more honorable means, this time.”
“You’re welcome in Artorion any time,” Leon stated. “Whether for business or not.”
Triyr bowed his head slightly, then cast his gaze out at the remaining third of Alderion’s fleet. “You have much work ahead of you, now. I will impose upon you no longer. Congratulations again, King Leon. I will see you soon.”
He held out his arm, and Leon clasped his wrist. Without another word, Triyr began flying back to his fleet, and Leon found himself almost sad to see the man go. It was a strange thing to feel so welcoming toward someone he’d quite disliked mere days ago, but he supposed that was what risking so much for someone could do.
As Triyr flew away, Leon turned back to Alderion’s fleet to see that mages were pouring from the arks. His heart seized for a moment as he thought that they might be getting attacked, and Triyr was running, but after a moment, his brain caught up to what his eyes were seeing. He wasn’t seeing warriors pouring outside to make war, but rather diplomatic parties coming out to treat with him.
He called his people forward, particularly wanting Clear and Archelaus to take charge of this part, while he held onto Alderion’s head for the sole reason that he wanted to present it to his wives. It was because Alderion had spoken so poorly toward them that he’d done all of this, after all.
However, as he held it out and began speaking, Maia took the head and threw it like a ball of trash to the ground far below. Then she threw herself into his arms and pressed her lips against his, assaulting him through their connection with love, among other, more amorous emotions. Leon was barely able to kiss her back because of how much he was smiling.
Finally, though, she pulled back, and Valeria and Cassandra gave him more muted, but still loving, congratulations.
And then the dragons spoke.
“Well done, my everdark grandnephew,” Ouros said with a proud smile. “You may not have used the power of the dragon, but you have still proven your power to the world. There is nothing greater in life than a victory over a powerful foe!”
“Really?” Jennifyr asked with a sly grin beside him. “Nothing at all, Father?”
Ouros took a moment to make a show of thinking, and then said, “Save, perhaps, for loving your family.” He gave Leon’s wives a quick nod of his head, and Jennifyr snorted in amusement.
“There certainly won’t be a shortage of love tonight,” Cassandra said with a sultry look at Leon. “Though, Elise might be a little upset that you took such a risk when it didn’t seem necessary…”
“Necessary?” Fargrim growled, the world itself seeming to vibrate as his booming tones rippled across the desert. “There is nothing more necessary than killing your enemies!”
Leon’s smile faded slightly. He’d heard more than enough about his grandfather from his mother that this seemed a rather new perspective for the man to have. But he didn’t call him on this seeming change, not when delegations were forming across the sands.
“You fought brilliantly,” Rayos added. “I hope that your example has set a good model for my daughter to follow. How has she fared, by the way? I hope she hasn’t been too great a burden?”
“Nyra has been…” Leon said hesitantly. In the first few years, she’d been a little unrestrained and had given his palace attendants no small amount of grief for not doing things exactly as she wanted them to do, but Serana and his wives had tempered much of that attitude over the past decade. “She is a dragon, through and through,” Leon finally said, eliciting a glowing smile from Nyra’s father. “I believe she’s been channeling much of that energy and attitude that she came to us with into more productive exercises, now.”
Rayos nodded sagely. “No greater news can a father hear than of the growth of his children. I would like to visit your city, if you would allow it.”
“There’s no need to ask,” Leon said. “My home is open to all friends and family who may come.”
His eyes flickered in Fargrim’s direction. He wondered if his grandfather would take him up on that offer. ‘He probably should, given how indisposed Mother has been…’
“In fact,” Leon continued as that little fact ran through his mind, “I would like to invite all of you to Artorion. My mother… would love to see all of you there.”
“Wonderful!” Jennifyr exclaimed. “How has she been faring these past few years? I confess that I miss her, especially after seeing her for so brief a time at Belicenion.”
“I’m sure my daughter has turned many of her enemies to ash since this war began,” Fargrim stated confidently. Then he gave Leon a more uncertain look and asked, “Hasn’t she?”
Leon’s smile faltered slightly, and he didn’t give them a verbal answer. But that, in and of itself, was answer enough. He would’ve explained more, but he could see the delegations beginning to move in his direction, now.
“We will join you at Artorion,” Rayos stated definitively, speaking for all of the dragons.
“We will be delighted to host you,” Leon replied, and that was all that they could say for the moment without risking being overheard by those now flying toward them.
As difficult as it was, Leon focused on this new challenge and put everything else out of mind, for the moment. As ‘over’ as everything seemed, it wasn’t truly over until the last of Alderion’s fleet was flying away…
---
Leon sat upon the thunder wood throne in the largest hall in Storm Herald. Before him stretched as many of his most powerful supporters as could be packed into the room. Storm Herald was an enormous ark, of course, but space was still at a premium, which meant that this room, large though it was, was still considerably smaller than his throne terrace back at Westmount.
Many of the delegates who had come from the remains of Alderion’s fleet were arrayed before him. Three Despots, a dozen Strategoi, and dozens more tenth-tier mages, representing no small amount of diplomatic power within Alderion’s realm.
And they were all kneeling before him, swearing themselves into his service. He’d been tempted to make them acknowledge him as their King, as he never claimed any title within Khosrow’s Law. However, as they gave him their fealty, they referred to him as their new Anax, not their new Basileus.
[How does it feel?] the Thunderbird asked him, having flown out into his soul realm just in time to catch them swearing their fealty.
[Unsure,] Leon replied. [An Anax should be fourteenth-tier, shouldn’t he?]
[We’ve been over this before, my boy: though there is a strong correlation between power and titles, power comes first, and then the title. If you have the power of an Anax, then you can become one, regardless of tier. It just so happens that you are of my blood, and that makes you stronger than most. Seizing this title a tier early should only be expected.]
Leon’s lips twitched, and he suppressed the smile to preserve the dignity of this ceremony.
[But,] the Thunderbird continued, [expected or not, I’m still proud of you.]
[Thank you. But… This is going to invite challenge, isn’t it? I’m not fourteenth-tier…]
‘And may never be fourteenth-tier…’ She hadn’t been there to hear his talk with Veles. He was going to have to catch her up on that at some point, but not now.
[And with Alderion dead,] he continued, [that’ll leave a power vacuum.]
[Most will look to you, Alderion’s killer, for protection,] the Thunderbird stated, sounding so confident that he almost expected her to claim to know the future. [You’ll find it easier to vassalize all those in this region, having proven your strength. And if some other mage tries to force himself into your territory, kill them as you killed Alderion. Use your power, show these Lords that you are strong enough to follow, that you are too strong for them to resist.]
The ceremony ended, and without missing a beat, Leon stated aloud, “Rise.”
All those kneeling pushed themselves back to their feet.
“There will be instability,” Leon stated. “There may be more war ahead of us. But we will deal with them in the manner expected of Storm Lords.”
Several of the Lords shouted in support, and that caused almost the entire hall to start stomping and shouting. It took two entire minutes for them to calm down enough for Leon to continue.
“With all of us together, the Far West will become the new locus of power in the Storm Lands! But before then, we will have to fight and prove ourselves to all who challenge us! Return to your lands and prepare for what comes next! For both the trials of war and the comforts of peace!” He conjured a comm slate. “All of you will receive one of these! If any threats arise, you need only sound the call, and I will answer!”
More shouting followed, and no shortage of those shouts were Storm Lords baying for war.
‘Going to have to rein that in a little,’ he thought. ‘Not now, though, but… at least they’ll be useful for conquests out in the planes. Or holding down the Nexus while my fleets and legions are out in the planes…’
Despite the uncertainties of the future, pride still swelled in his chest. He wasn’t yet a fourteenth-tier mage, but he’d break the universe itself until he was. He’d need to vassalize some Basileis to confirm it, but on paper at least, he was now an Anax… He was now, technically, only one step away from reclaiming for his Clan the title of Storm King…
---
‘Are there no competent people left in the Nexus anymore? Am I cursed to do everything myself?’
It wasn’t healthy to dwell on what couldn’t be changed. Khosrow’s wisdom, passed down in the commentaries on his Law written by several mages who’d known him personally. Kamran had a few original copies of those commentaries and treasured them deeply. That wisdom, however, was hard to fully accept even in the darkness of Kamran’s meditation chamber, a place specifically designed to help him relax and release all of the tension that could build up in one of the most powerful mages in the universe.
The news in recent weeks had been terrible—blow after blow seemingly without end. Though they were only Basileis, Antipatra and Triton had been two of his most powerful and important pieces on the great board of the Nexus. It was natural that they be sent to deal with a problem that he was too busy to see to himself, but Kamran couldn’t help but deeply resent both Akeron and Anushirawan for pushing them into the war, even though he’d given his assent later on.
Leon Raime was a problem that had to be dealt with, especially since he’d already quite proudly taken credit for ‘destroying’ the Thunderbird Clan. It was an embarrassment beyond measure to find out that he’d been wrong. He’d have rectified that mistake without delay if only Halbast hadn’t tried challenging his position.
‘Damned fool,’ Kamran thought about his fellow fifteenth-tier Anax. ‘That throne is mine. It was always supposed to be mine! I was promised!’
It took a titanic amount of effort, but with a few deep breaths, he managed to steady himself. Losing his cool wouldn’t help anyone with anything.
‘All a means to an end,’ he repeated several times. ‘Even the title…’
It had been almost an insult to hear that even the title of Storm King, which he had for so long coveted, was nothing more than a means to an end. The Great Endeavor came before everything else, of course, and he understood why, but he was a proud man. He’d wanted that damned title for so long, and he would have it, even if it was the last damned thing he would ever do…
He’d wanted that title for so long that he’d organized the fall of the Thunderbird Clan ahead of schedule. It had seemed like an opportune moment, getting rid of Jason Keraunos and his Clan’s elites right at the beginning of a Reconstitution cycle, giving him more than three hundred years to set himself up to succeed the Thunderbirds when the Nexus reformed. He’d seized their city-sized Adamant vault, secured several strategically important planes, including—at least, for a time—the enormously wealthy plane of Kypros. He’d built up his forces and personal power, and when he returned to the Nexus…
… the Thunderbird Clan was still present enough to rally support. Kamran hadn’t been able to make his move immediately, and the other fifteenth-tier Anakes refused to support him. Now, with his war with Halbast, that stalemate was coming to an end.
Or rather, it was supposed to be, but while he was out dealing with the arrogant cockroach, he was losing assets in other places!
‘Halbast…’ he thought venomously. ‘Leon Raime…’
When he was done with the former, he’d deal with the latter personally. And when he was done with the latter, he’d raze anything and everything that either man had ever touched, until there was no man left alive who would not curse their memories for having provoked the wrath of Kamran, the future Storm King…
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