Like a baleful gale blasting its way through a valley, a long, soulful sigh hissed past Leon’s lips. An hour of consideration, and he was no closer to an answer than he was before.
It had been a long day, starting first with the ecstasy of leading his fleet home, with the word ‘victory’ falling from every tongue in the city. Then, his mother woke up with a transformation enchantment tailored for her bloodline. Even now, she, still in dragon form, was sharing it with the other dragons who had followed Leon back to Artorion.
And then his elation was dealt a massive blow with the news that the Jaguar was dead. Iron-Striker was still alive, and that was worth celebrating, but to have the Jaguar’s death confirmed was crushing. The rest of Leon’s day had been consumed by thoughts of who would become his next Marshal.
The list was relatively short—the serious list, at least, as he could make anyone he wanted his Marshal, after all. But that short list of qualified and trusted individuals wasn’t any easier for its brevity. Three profiles were on his desk, their contents already memorized yet still open, his eyes occasionally passing over them as he contemplated the problem.
A knock at his door almost startled him; he’d been so consumed by his considerations that he hadn’t even been paying attention to what was outside his office door.
“Enter,” he growled, his voice low but still traveling to those outside his door without trouble.
The door opened, revealing Elise, a concerned look carved into her noble features. She waited until the door closed behind her before she spoke.
“The entire city is celebrating, but I find you here.”
“Surprised?” Leon asked with a tired smile.
“No,” she replied. “I didn’t even need magic senses to know where you were. You seek solitude even at the best of times, let alone when mourning.”
Leon frowned slightly, wanting to protest and say that he was fine, that he wasn’t tired or affected by recent events at all, that he was strong. His vocal cords refused to even begin forming the words. If he couldn’t speak honestly with Elise, then he couldn’t speak honestly with anyone.
“You don’t have to be alone right now,” she said as she circled his large thunder wood desk. Her hands found his shoulders as she stopped behind him. Leon found himself melting into her touch. “The Jaguar’s replacement?” she asked, noticing the profiles open on his desk. “You don’t have to pick right now.”
“A King’s job doesn’t wait for grief.”
“The King’s job is whatever he wants it to be,” she countered. “Leon, you’re allowed to wait a few days to mourn. And wouldn’t it be insulting to the Jaguar Tribe if someone else were appointed as your new Marshal so soon after the Jaguar of the West was found?”
Scowling slightly, he said, “You have a point.”
“I usually do,” she replied with a wry grin that he could hear in her voice. “You haven’t made a decision.”
He hummed in acknowledgment.
“Interesting choices…” she continued, her fingers kneading into months-old knots, and he had to almost bite his own tongue to keep from moaning in pleasure. “Marcus is one of the most qualified men to hold the position.”
“Former Chief Praetor, current Paladin, trusted friend of many decades. Well-entrenched in my Kingdom. Many friends in high places. Affable, effective, respected. An easy choice for me to make,” Leon responded. “Harder, maybe, for him.”
“He won’t take it even if offered,” Elise said.
“He would if I insisted.”
“Would you insist? If he refused?”
“Hm. No.”
“Then Marcus won’t be your next Marshal. Being a Paladin is more to his tastes, currently. He returned to your service as a Paladin because he was sick of being stuck behind a desk. He wants to do, not tell others to do.”
“He would’ve been a fine Marshal,” Leon said as he reached out and closed Marcus’ profile. “But I am more than happy with him as my Paladin, instead.”
Elise’s fingers went up to the back of his neck, and his head drooped to give her a better angle. Over the top of his head, her eyes fell upon the second profile.
“Anshu is certainly another choice.”
He smiled thinly. “Your tone inspires such confidence.”
“Those whom you appoint to such a high position should get along with your family, shouldn’t they?”
Leon turned his head slightly, glancing at Elise from the corner of his eye. “You’d rather Anshu not take this position?”
“Do you want him to take it?”
Leon’s eyes turned back to the profiles. “I wouldn’t be staring at his record otherwise. He’s served me as my Fleet Admiral since our first true ark fleet was built, and as the Captain of my flag ark before then. His capabilities are proven, and at this point, his loyalty is unquestionable.”
“But…”
His grin turned somewhat bitter. “But. But he’s not as affable as Marcus. He doesn’t command the same respect. He has fewer friends. He’s known throughout my court as being humorless and blunt. Useful qualities, at times, especially for a Marshal, but he’d be expected to play nicer with the Tribes than he currently is. Nicer with everyone, actually.”
“But you’re more concerned with the Tribes? Appointing someone else might be seen as a snub?”
“That’s what most concerns me, yes. The Jaguar held the position for so long, and despite being zealous, he was highly respected by the Tribes, and having one of their own in that post assured them that they would never be forgotten.”
“You could let them be satisfied with Chancellor and Steward; Ipatameni and Iron-Striker aren’t going anywhere, are they?”
Leon grimaced. “Iron-Striker might. I want him to recover and resume his duties. We’ll see how he fares in a few weeks.”
“Any thoughts on a new Chancellor?”
Leon groaned and almost collapsed face-first onto his desk. “This is hard enough; don’t go throwing that on me, too!”
Elise smirked. “I like Iron-Striker. I’d prefer him to stay.”
“So would I. So would the Tribes—especially the Bears. Everyone wants their guy in any given position.”
“You’re not looking to replace the Jaguar with another Jaguar,” she pointed out, referencing the third and final profile.
“No,” Leon admitted. “There are plenty of skilled Jaguars I could pick from, but I don’t know any of them well enough to give them that position.”
“How many problems does Solomon solve?” Elise asked clinically, even as her fingers lightened from digging into his shoulders into a tenderer, more loving rub. “Does he solve more than Anshu?”
“I hesitate to say that he’d be better than Anshu in commanding fleets. But he doesn’t have to be; we have admirals for that, and generals for legions. I hesitate to say that Anshu is better than Solomon at the bureaucracy of the position, or better at solving the logistical challenges. I’m confident in saying that Solomon has the better eye for talent…”
“Solomon would also be seen as something of an olive branch to the Tribes,” Elise continued for him. “Even if he’s not a Jaguar, they respect him.”
“He was married to the Jaguar’s sister. He held the same position that the Jaguar held on Kataigida, only for the eastern coast. He’s known, he’s competent, he’s respected.”
Elise leaned in, her breath hot on his ear. “But…?”
Leon grimaced again. “Solomon would be perfect for the role, if I can convince him to take it. I think that he’s married to the idea of ‘only’ being an elder for his Tribe.”
“And…?” Elise prodded. “You wouldn’t be having this much trouble if that were all; you’d just offer the position to Solomon even if the decision isn’t announced publicly for a while. Why are you hesitating when it sounds like Solomon is perfect? Perhaps less competent in war than Anshu, but not incompetent, and arguably better at organization…”
“Would you prefer him?” Leon asked.
Elise’s hands paused, and he knew without asking that she was choosing whether or not she should lie. After a few seconds, her hands began moving again, and she admitted, “Yes. I think we all would.”
‘All as in the family, or all as in everyone?’ The question didn’t make it past his lips. He knew that she meant both.
Finally, he directly said, “I think Anshu expects to be offered the position. I know that he wants it.”
“Being your Fleet Admiral isn’t enough?”
“I’m sure he’s happy where he was, so long as the Jaguar remained as my Marshal. But few would argue that my Fleet Admiral is the highest-ranking officer in my Kingdom after the Marshal.”
“It sounds like you should make this clearer to people.”
“That doesn’t solve this problem.”
“Would he get over it?”
Scowling lightly, Leon said, “I’d rather not give him any reason to need to get over anything.”
“We can’t make everyone happy, love. We can try, but sometimes we have to choose.”
“I know my duty,” Leon growled. “I just don’t want it to affect a friend and loyal supporter.”
“Then… Solomon will be your next Marshal?”
Leon softly snorted, unsurprised at this point that she was prioritizing that. He supposed on further reflection that he also wasn’t surprised that his wife preferred Solomon over Anshu. He suspected she’d prefer quite a few people over Anshu if she were to speak honestly.
“I’ll ask him first. And figure out something else for Anshu. Title? Some great reward? Something will come to me.”
“I’m sure he’ll understand. He won’t jeopardize everything he has for this.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I am right.” Elise punctuated her statement with a proud nod of her head.
Leon smiled and rose from his seat, taking Elise’s hand and pulling her over to the sofas. He all but fell into one, pulling her into his lap.
“Where are the others?” he asked. “I figured you would’ve called for some unity to drag me out of here.”
“I wanted to,” she admitted, “but the river nymphs need Maia right now—they were hit fairly hard in Triton’s initial attacks, but after retreating up the Blue Feather River’s watershed, they reached some measure of safety. But no one wants them to go wild now that we’re staring down peace.”
“Makes sense,” Leon said as he stroked his chin. He could feel a bit of stubble and knew that Elise would start complaining about it if he didn’t shave it off soon.
Elise continued, “Valeria’s father called. Apparently, Kamran is being pushed hard out in the planes. Anassa Auset has declared herself for Halbast and started directly striking against Kamran. Justin is hoping that an opportunity to make a play for his wife will present itself soon.”
“We’ll be ready if it does,” Leon stated.
“I’d have it no other way,” Elise added. “Anything for Val. Maybe she’ll finally join us properly once we spring her mother?”
“I doubt it. But you never know.”
Elise pouted for a moment before pressing on. “Cassandra is glad-handing a bit. Handling our official visitors coming to the palace.”
Leon rolled his eyes. “The entire city is celebrating, and people are coming to the palace?”
“Gift-giving and seeking assurances that their cities aren’t forgotten,” Elise said. “Or their territory. Depends. Queenfall was practically wiped out. Same with the Seventh Iron Order. Culain was sacked. Lancefoot heavily damaged. Tribal territories were ransacked all around Artorion and the western mountains. Nearly all the settlements directly north of us along the Blue Feather River for hundreds of miles were destroyed. The giants had to retreat below the ground to survive Triton’s onslaught. Now, all the survivors are pouring into the city to celebrate and seek aid as subtly as they can. Cassie’s handling them for now.”
“I love that woman.”
“So do I.”
Leon sighed again. The scale of destruction that Triton left in his lands was almost unfathomable. Miuna had promised that Triton’s former territories would pay for reconstruction, but until those resources were in hand, he wasn’t going to count on them. And besides, funds and material wouldn’t populate these devastated lands.
“The Tribes managed to largely escape,” Leon said. “The Eagles to our west, Bison and Lions around us, Hawks further north… Triton warred with us because we bear Inherited Bloodlines, and yet the vast majority of his victims weren’t even part of Tribes, let alone bore any bloodlines at all…”
“It might be comedic if it weren’t so tragic,” Elise agreed.
Leon took a long, steadying breath, exhaling through his nose. “A silver lining might be that we at least now have significant territories and population centers to draw new colonists from. One of Antipatra’s Despots destroyed an entire plane during my war with her and devastated a second. The survivors can be settled here. Others can be brought in, or encouraged to immigrate.”
“Are those conquests going to remain stable enough for that once they hear of this war?” Elise speculated, and Leon felt a new furrow carve its way across his forehead.
“It’ll be hard. We won’t be conquering anything new for a while. Probably a century.”
“Jericho might be upset.”
“Jericho can wait. He’s waited this long. Given what we’ve just fought off, he can feel however damned well he likes.”
Elise giggled, the sound as pleasant and musical as wind chimes to Leon. “I do like it when you tell people that they just have to deal with it…”
“It may be a bit harder in this case,” Leon said. “We don’t just have our Nexus holdings to rebuild; we also have a massive chunk of our military. Our fleets are about a quarter of what they were, and that’s counting those that are salvageable that are now at the bottom of mountain valleys. Our legions were less impacted, so we can still deploy ground forces, but they would deploy without much Ulta suit support. The MALL variants can fill in for some roles, but the Ultas and giants and fighters all had their places on the battlefield, and without them, our legions might suffer.”
“We’ll rebuild,” Elise said definitively. “It may take decades, but we’ll rebuild.”
“Of course,” Leon agreed. “But a century at least until we can get back out there. And… now that I’m thinking of it… Antipatra conquered quite a bit in the Great Strand of Rhea, too. Now that she’s dead, I can’t help but wonder what her conquests might be doing. We didn’t just kill her, too; we devastated her Lordly vassals, and there likely isn’t anyone remaining in her territory who can take over for her cleanly.”
“That sounds like opportunity,” Elise said.
“It would be, if we had the fleets to capitalize. A century of reconstruction might leave us unable to do anything except vainly try to defend our borders. Those corridors that we conquered into Rhea were meant to be staging grounds for further pushes. Trying to hold five thin, snaking lines through a Great Strand, even if we still had the forces we used to conquer them, will be nigh impossible for long. Even if we’re not fully rebuilt after that century… we’re probably going to have to fight anyway…”
“Then we’ll deal with them, too,” Elise declared. “Anyone who challenges us. Anyone who tries to take advantage of our current… weakness…” She shuddered as she said the word, but not nearly as much as Leon did.
“Let’s hope we get some time, then,” Leon said. He let his hands start to wander across Elise’s body, gliding over smooth silkgrass and the fit-yet-soft flesh beneath. She moaned huskily as his hands found her backside and squeezed, and she adjusted herself in his lap until she was straddling him.
“We still… have to celebrate in our own way…” she breathed into his ear.
“Should we start now?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows as his hands crept upward.
Her emerald eyes narrowed with desire, and with her fiery hair framing her face, she looked about as perfect as anyone could possibly look. Leon’s hands lightly stroked upward, along her waist, causing her breath to hitch. His fingertips traced her ribs through her dress, her skin feeling warm through the silkgrass despite her dress being relatively thick and modest, and his touch being sensually light.
“We should… we should join the celebrations,” she hissed reluctantly, though she was in no hurry to climb out of his lap.
Leon grinned mischievously and let his hands climb higher. They found her substantial chest, and when he softly squeezed, she gasped with heat and desire.
“They can wait,” he said as he then took her by the waist and threw her down on the sofa.
His office was soundproof—he knew it was because he’d designed the enchantment scheme himself. But right then, he was determined to put those enchantments to the test.
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