The Storm King

Chapter 1171: Artorion's Consolidation

Leon’s return to Artorion was rather subdued. His fleet was much smaller since many arks were chasing down the survivors in Krizos’ hinterlands, and others were at Lancefoot aiding the clearing and reconstruction effort. With them gone, Artorion was quiet and lonely. Thousands were still present, guarding the walls, repairing the damage from the war with Terris, and otherwise settling into Leon’s new capital, but their relief at his return was hardly a grand triumph, though no less genuine for its lack of scale.

For his part, Leon was ready to lie down and sleep for a decade. His brow had been furrowed with stress so long that he worried it was going to stick like that, while the muscles around his shoulders were tight as rocks. No small part of him longed for home, for beds that he may never sleep in again, for the comforts of positions he’d held with fewer responsibilities.

He missed his palace in Stormhollow. While it was expansive and way too big for his personal use, he’d grown quite used to it, having lived in it for longer than he’d lived anywhere else. His blood sang for his estate in Occulara, too, but he had even less reason to return there than anywhere else. Though he’d only lived in it for a couple years, his home in the Bull Kingdom’s capital, too, called his name.

And, of course, there was his small shack in the Forest of Black and White. He missed hanging his bow over the door after returning from a hunt. He missed the hard wooden bed, covered only with furs that he’d skinned from his prey. He missed the cold ground, upon which he’d so often meditated.

He missed many of the people in these places, too. As Leon landed in the gardens outside of his portable villa, a single thought crossed his mind as he breathed in the welcoming scent of Elise’s favorite blooming flowers. ‘You’d better be ready to have all of my duties foisted onto you when you get here, Iron-Striker. I need a damn vacation.’

He wouldn’t actually throw all of his responsibilities onto his ministers, but he smiled at the thought. He smiled even wider when Elise came running over, disregarding her Queenly dignity to fall into his arms.

“You’re back!” Elise gasped.

Leon tightened his embrace with Elise. “I have other ideas to repay you for your patience,” he said with a lascivious smile, taking advantage of their relative privacy given most of the rest of his followers were settling back into their own homes for a few well-earned days off. Those few who’d accompanied him back to his palace were already inside, leaving him with his ladies—including Maia, Cassandra, and Valeria, who silently stood at Leon’s shoulders. He glanced at them and added, “All of you. No one’s going the night without the night without satisfying attention…”

“That… is a promise that I expect you to fulfill!” Cassandra growled.

Leon glanced at his other two wives. Neither wore any expression, but Leon could feel Maia’s lust. Valeria, meanwhile, might not be so willing to participate in group activities, but he’d make sure she was satisfied however she wanted.

With all of them together, Leon made his way inside to back up his promise with action. It took more than a day for any of them to emerge from their rooms.

---

The weeks following the end of Leon’s conquests went by quickly and blessedly quietly. Leon kept waiting for something else to come in, feeling like a sword hung over him at all times just waiting to drop at some specified time…

… But all was quiet. Representatives from Alhamachim arrived, though not Tauri himself. The city’s leader had more important administrative tasks to handle, and these representatives were just temporary courtiers to update Leon on the city’s reconstruction, deliver some Lumenite as tribute, and remain in his court for several years to advocate for their city. In the first two matters, Leon was pleased to hear that Alhamachim was almost completely repaired—only a few outlying villages still bore the scars of the raid they’d suffered—while the Lumenite shipment certainly lifted Nestor, Mari, and the Ravens’ spirits. Craftsmen can’t craft when they have no materials, after all.

As it so happened, arrivals characterized the next few weeks, Alhamachim’s delegation heralding the major business that Leon now had to handle. Prince Numa sent a similar delegation with food and building materials, both of which were needed to help feed and settle those brought south from Krizos’ former lands. They were largely going to be settled further east, along a major tributary of the Blue Feather River. There was another lake of considerable size close to the Bolt Mountains, though it was, by all accounts, just a lake, and not a cursed portal to a demonic realm.

Less exciting, perhaps, but certainly more conducive to long-term habitation.

Leon could’ve settled them closer to Artorion, but he’d decided that choicier plots of land in this fertile region would be reserved for the Ten Tribes. The southern end of the Blue Feather River leading into the King’s Ocean, in fact, was going to be of considerable importance given that it was going to be his largest and quite possibly most important port—certainly it would be on the southern coast. Who to give it to, if anyone, was going to be a tough decision.

Representatives from other cities arrived, too, including representatives from the Azadan of Sentudon, Hosragan, and Elegan. They lavished Leon with about as much praise as he could tolerate, and perhaps a little more—likely to try and protect what autonomy they had, he cynically figured. Regardless, their staggered arrivals made it clear that Artorion needed to grow quickly to accommodate everyone, and that he’d need a larger palace to host his court.

Planning the future of Artorion was a far more entertaining use of his time than dealing with dignitaries, as Leon was unsurprised to find, but he far preferred the time he spent with Nestor, Mari, and the researchers and engineers under their respective commands. Learning about what they were doing was the best he could do for the moment—he needed more settlers to build out his bureaucracy in the Nexus. Only once it was robust enough that he could regain some hours in the day would be able to properly return to his enchantment and smithing studies—and devote more time to forging his new suit of armor.

A month after his return, all of the business he had to deal with paled in comparison to the new visitor he had, however.

In a flash of light, a curious metallic slate appeared just south of the southern Talon. The Lances on the fortress, atop rapidly repaired towers, nearly fired on it, and the man who stood alone atop it, until a devastatingly powerful aura crashed down upon them.

Leon sensed it, and given its strength, thought for a panicked moment that Terris had returned to finish his war, regardless of Miuna’s deal. He shot from his palace so quickly that he nearly destroyed the room he’d been sitting in, and left several of his secretaries looking confused, flustered, and rather terrified at the force of his exit. Only when he projected his magic senses did he realize his reaction was, perhaps, just a little unwarranted.

It wasn’t Terris who’d arrived, but Archelaus. Not a particularly welcome sight, but hardly unwelcome either, given his relative cordiality the last time they’d spoken.

Leon shot towards the man, curiosity practically burning a hole through his brain at just what he was doing here. As he approached, however, much of that curiosity was redirected toward the slate he stood upon.

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It was kind of octagonal, though the eight sides were bent inward into shallow half-moons, and the two sides to Archelaus’ right and left were longer than the other six. This oblong octagon was twice as thick as Leon was tall, made of shiny dark gray metal, and covered with gold trim in geometric patterns. The face of the slate that Archelaus stood upon, however, had no such decoration; it was made of a clear, glassy material, allowing an unfettered view of what lay beneath.

Hundreds of gears and other mechanisms, all spinning and moving about in a display of mechanical complexity that had Leon’s lips irresistibly turning upward. Each moving piece was inscribed with dozens, if not hundreds, of runes, and as they spun and moved, new enchantments were constantly made and unmade. It looked remarkably like a magic engine, or a more mechanical version of the enchantment control rooms that Leon had seen in his Clan’s facilities back on Aeterna, with their domes covered in moving glyphs and runes.

“King Leon!” Archelaus boomed as Leon approached. The Despot amicably waved him over, and Leon alighted on the flying octagon with only a little bit of trepidation. After Archelaus’ display with the southern Talon, he hadn’t made any other hostile moves, so Leon was willing to trust him at least this far.

“Despot Archelaus,” Leon replied.

“If we’re using those titles, then I ought to call you ‘Strategos’,” Archelaus said with a smile.

“Do you have any other titles that you’d prefer?”

Archelaus thought for a moment, then shrugged. “‘Archelaus’ is fine. Or ‘Archie’, if you’re feeling friendly.”

Leon awkwardly coughed. “I’m… flattered that you would be so informal.”

“You didn’t strike me as particularly formal when last we met,” Archelaus responded. His expression turned serious, but the rest of his body remained where he stood, motionless. “But… this isn’t a social call. I’d have not left Archelion otherwise. Basileus Ramin has heard of you and has questions. He wanted to come here himself, but I convinced him not to.”

Leon cocked an eyebrow even as his blood ran cold. Of all the things that Archelaus could’ve told him, that was one of the worst. He didn’t need the attention of those stronger than him just yet, even if he knew that such attention was inevitable given his long-term goals. “I can think of many reasons why he might take an interest in me, but could you narrow it down a little?”

“You have settled a former buffer zone between the Storm Lands and the King’s Ocean. You then fought off the Ocean Lords’ resulting reprisal. Such matters demand attention, especially given your recent actions to the north.”

“… Do you protest against those actions?” Leon tentatively asked. “Does the Basileus?”

“I don’t care about you expanding to the north,” Archelaus said dismissively. “The disappearance of Krizos is intriguing—I’ve never seen such a thing before. And the taking of Shatufan has given my logistics officers conniptions. But so long as you stay to the west of the Bolt Mountains, I have no problem with you taking this region as your own. Especially if you trade your ‘storm crystal’ with me.”

“Easy enough…” Leon said.

“Consider this a warning, then, Leon Raime,” Archelaus continued. “Tell me in no uncertain terms that you do not wish to expand to the east. That you are not considering actions against me, my Strategoi, or my Basileus.”

Leon didn’t need even a second before answering. “I have no intentions of expanding past the Bolt Mountains. I desire no quarrel with you, your Strategoi, or Basileus Ramin.”

“Mm.” Archelaus nodded. “Basileus Ramin is interested in normalizing relations with the Ocean Lords and hopes that you may help with that. Fewer wars and raids here in the west means more resources can be sent east.”

“Makes sense,” Leon stated. “I can be… a relatively neutral third party in that respect, I suppose. Assuming Ramin doesn’t want to vassalize me, in which case we’d have a problem…”

“No, he doesn’t want that,” Archelaus responded almost dismissively. “However… you claim descent from the Thunderbird.”

Leon blinked, wondering if he’d missed the question in that statement. “I… do,” he slowly but firmly confirmed. “I bear the Thunderbird’s power. I can transform into the Thunderbird, too. What more proof would I need to provide anyone who might doubt me?”

Archelaus averted his gaze for a long moment even though his body barely moved.

To Leon’s surprise, the man whispered, “I am old enough to remember your Clan, Leon Raime. I held great respect for Jason Keraunos, and his father, Byzas Thundercock.”

Leon almost choked, and it took him several almost painful seconds for him to regain his composure. “I… what?”

“I am old, Leon Raime,” Archelaus stated again, as if that was the part that Leon had trouble with.

“No, no, I get that, but Byzas what?!”

Archelaus snickered. “An earned nickname, by all accounts. He ravished many a maiden, and few left his bed unfulfilled. Or perhaps that reputation was made by the bards who spread it. He had other epithets, but that one was the funniest.”

Leon closed his eyes and shook his head. “Right. Hmm. Right. Um. You have thoroughly knocked me off-course, Archelaus.”

Another snickering fit followed even though the man barely moved at all. But then, as if a switch had flipped, Archelaus became serious again. “Had I not believed you, I would’ve killed you the first time we met. Basileus Ramin has… similar thoughts to mine, though not exactly the same. Blood of the Thunderbird can be threatening to those now in power.”

“And… Basileus Ramin might act on that perceived threat?” Leon asked.

“If I tell him that you’re a threat,” Archelaus stated leadingly.

Picking up on it without trouble, Leon smiled and nodded. “So… I assume you have a solution to this unpleasantness if you’re here in person?”

Waving his hand like he was brushing away a bit of dust, Archelaus said, “Keep storm crystal flowing. Remain a good neighbor. Do these things, and we will have no problems. Do this, and I will recommend to my Basileus that you be left alone, to act as a proper buffer that we don’t have to waste resources on. Keep this land, make it yours. Do not threaten us, and we will not threaten you. Does all of that make sense?”

“Again, I have no plans to advance beyond the Bolt Mountains.”

“As you’ve said. But allow me to make a further addendum: Genesos will make for a nice buffer between us, won’t it?”

Leon had no designs upon the city, especially after Krizos’ disappearance and the utter ruin of the land within that pocket between the Bower Hills and Bolt Mountains, so he shrugged and said without hesitation, “It sure would. I’ll leave it be if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“It is,” Archelaus replied. “I’m happy to see you be reasonable, Leon Raime. One further thing, and I believe Basileus Ramin will soon turn his attention elsewhere.”

“What is it?”

“Do not grow too close with the Ocean Lords. However you convinced them to leave, we know that you met with Princess Miuna. Walk carefully, Strategos. Carefully.”

“You can rest assured that I won’t be siding with the Ocean Lords against the Storm Lords unless forced to by circumstance. And it’ll have to be serious circumstances.”

Archelaus frowned slightly. “Just tell me that you won’t, full stop.”

Leon opened his mouth to quibble a bit about exceptions and not wanting to bind himself by honor to a certain course of action, but when he saw the seriousness and lack of patience in Archelaus’ eyes, he paused. After a moment, he simply said, “I won’t.”

A grin broke out across Archelaus’ face. “Good. Do all of this, and you will have no problems from east of the Bolt Mountains.”

“Not even from Strategos Djoser?” Leon asked.

It was Archelaus’ turn to pause. “Has my Strategos done something hostile to you?” His voice was steady, but Leon could sense the killing intent within, though it was aimed he wasn’t quite sure.

“He… is the Captain of the Third Iron Order. The Order that should’ve come to my aid, no? That it didn’t, and that its Captain has personal antipathy towards me makes me… suspicious.”

“I will keep Djoser in line, you have nothing to worry about there. Now… if there is nothing else? I have a nap to get back to.”

Leon smiled and lifted off from the slate. “Good talking to you, Archie! Let’s talk again sometime!”

Archelaus waved, and then he and his octagonal slate vanished in a flash of light. Leon kept his eyes open and his magic senses trained on that area, hoping to get an idea of what was happening with it, but he wasn’t able to pick up anything useful other than the flash of light itself. Though there wasn’t any thunder, Leon was certain that Archelaus had used lightning magic to travel, not anything related to Lumenite or spatial magic.

Intriguing, but unfortunately, he didn’t have much time on his hands to further research it. He flew back to his palace, buzzing slightly at this unexpected negotiation, but happy at least that it seemed to go his way without any great concessions. All he had to agree to was some trade. That much he could do. That much he wanted.

He just wished that his next visitor was as straightforward as Archelaus was—as if to spite that desire, the morning of the next day, Miuna’s jellyfish emerged from the waves once again. The Princess, it seemed had business with Leon.

At least, he hoped it was business; it was by her word that Terris’ fleet retreated, and while his answer to her marriage request hadn’t changed, he didn’t want to upset her unduly.

Fortunately, what she wanted was soon to be explained; she sent a small delegation to request Leon meet with her once again, and this time, he was welcome to bring his family.