The Storm King

Chapter 1193: Daryun's Determination

No small feeling of triumph bloomed in Leon’s heart as he stood before the great stone doors of the largest of Imak’s mountain fortresses. Above him flew Storm Herald and the arks of five separate task forces, numbering more than fifty in total—and these were largely heavier task forces than Nicetas’ had been, including four dreadnaughts and two supercarriers.

Beside him, Imak and Daryun were kneeling in the dirt. Scarlet Star had been taken away, though Leon had given his assurance that nothing would happen to the horse, which Daryun had visibly doubted even if he thanked Leon aloud. Surrounding them were thousands of warriors from Leon’s central army. MALLs, giants, and Ulta suits abounded, filling the valley with ten thousand troops. This was easily the largest concentration of force that Leon’s expedition had assembled on Kesken since the beginning of the conquest. Most of the commanders of this force weren’t with Leon just in case their enemy tried anything, but Marcus and a dozen Tempest Knights stood with Leon, too, their glittering armor drawing the eye to the more humbly dressed Leon.

Imak was silent, as was Daryun. The former stared at the ground, a broken man; the latter glared at the doors as if willing them to stay closed with his baleful gaze. Even if they did, it wouldn’t matter; Leon had the giants, and their expertise in earth magic would rip those doors open if given enough time—which he wasn’t sure he would give them since concentrated destroyer fire could also open them. The only thing giving him pause were the prisoners that Imak’s vassals and commanders had taken.

A great groan escaped the doors. They were large, cumbersome things, resembling more faces of the mountain than actual doors, bearing less ornamentation than even civilian doors might. It made the doors far more concealable, but with Imak pointing them out all over the valley, all of the mountain fortresses were easily located.

The doors began to swing open slowly but sped up with every passing second. As they swung open, people began pouring out in orderly lines. Leon smiled, recognizing them as his own soldiers—one hundred and fifty of them, the largest concentration of prisoners taken during the disastrous battle just two days ago. Leon’s warriors greeted their released comrades warmly, and the leaders of the prisoners, two sixth-tier officers who were likely second-in-command in their respective companies, approached Leon.

“Your Majesty,” one of them, presumably the senior of the two by age if not in tier or rank, “One hundred and fifty men and women of the Forty-Third Legion, all accounted for.”

Both of the officers then bowed, and Leon quickly said, “Stand up straight. Welcome home.” Leon reached out and clasped their wrists in turn, the gesture alone nearly bringing them to tears. “Now, see to your people. See the healers, rest, and recover.”

Both commanders nodded and thanked him before heading back to their warriors. Their legion commander was with them already, coordinating their return to a transport ark where they could get that rest and recovery.

With that taken care of, Leon turned his attention back to the mouth of the fortress. It took several minutes, but more warriors began pouring from the maw of the mountain. Thousands in all, none wearing armor or bearing weapons. Still, there were strong mages among them, and they were watched particularly closely in case they tried to summon anything from their soul realms.

Leon watched them closely as they laid eyes on Daryun and Imak, dismay and grim acceptance the prevailing expression he could see, though the sixth-tier mage looked almost smug. The leader of this group approached slowly, and he declared for all to hear, “King Leon Raime, Cano’s First Fortress has cast aside its weapons and offers you our submission!” All seven of the garrison commanders then went to their knees as Leon’s army took control over their followers behind them.

Since they had spoken in their own language, few in Leon’s army understood what they had said. Fortunately for them, Leon was one of them, and with a gesture, he sent a pair of Tempest Knights with Stones of Many Tongues, as the replica Rumble Stones had been named, toward them.

“Keep them calm,” Leon ordered Imak, who like Daryun had already been given an understanding of the Nexus’ common tongue.

The eighth-tier King gritted his teeth, almost literally swallowed his pride, and shouted in his people’s language, “Do not resist! This is necessary for us to communicate!”

His words didn’t seem to have much effect on the wary nobles, but at least they followed their King’s order not to resist, and soon, all of them understood Nexus common, too.

“Your submission was wise!” Leon loudly said. “You’ll come to see that in a few years. For now, your safety is guaranteed, as befitting guests in my Court.”

Several of them visibly sagged with relief, but Leon still identified some defiance in others. Regardless, seventh-tier officers in his army stepped forward to take control of them and escort them away.

And like that, one of Imak’s fortresses surrendered, falling under his control. By his count, only forty-eight remained. Thankfully, nearly all of them had already agreed to surrender since Leon had their King, but three remained stubborn. They would be dealt with in turn, but Leon prioritized freeing his people over punishing the stubborn, and thankfully, those particular fortresses were small, on the other side of the valley, and held none of his people.

The surrendering warriors within the fortress were led to the southwestern side of the valley, where they would be processed and returned to their homes. Leon wouldn’t hold them as prisoners of war long-term since he didn’t have the troops for that, but taking their weapons, demobilizing their armies, and sparing their leaders would be enough to keep everyone compliant. If not…

‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it…’ he thought with a momentary flicker of killing intent that had Imak and Daryun flinching in response.

In this vein, the capitulation of the fortresses proceeded throughout the day. The nobles and commanders in Imak’s army one by one gave themselves up, disarming themselves—at least on the surface since almost all had unfettered access to their soul realms—returning their prisoners, and surrendering their fortresses. The three stubborn holdouts weren’t asked to surrender again; Leon simply ordered their mountains destroyed.

The destroyers in the combined task force lived up to their designation, their main cannons turning the mountains into slag after a night of repeated bombardment. The defensive enchantments of these smaller fortresses simply couldn’t hold up under such power, and once the mountains had been replaced with craters, Leon finally turned the task force around and began a slower march back into the heart of Imak’s Kingdom, almost all of which by this point had fallen completely under his control.

---

‘How quickly everything changes…’ Daryun thought as the prison bars shut tightly behind him.

The dungeons in Reyyin—the closest major city to the fortified valley where the fate of their Kingdom had been decided—were dark and dingy, lacking in almost any comfort. The bed was stone with a single threadbare sheet draped over it, the toilet was a hole in the ground, and one entire wall was made of bars fortified with antimagic wards. At the ninth-tier, however, Daryun knew that even the wards of these dungeons weren’t enough to hold him. The question for him, however, came down to whether or not he should try and stick around.

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

Complicating matters were the guards that Leon Raime had stationed in the dungeons with them—powerful mages bedecked in shining armor wielding vicious swords and halberds, numbering ten in total. These ten weren’t just for him, however, for Imak had been imprisoned in the same cell as he was, and the other captured noblemen who commanded Imak’s army were in the other cells, though the wards at least prevented the groups from talking to each other.

“Hardly the treatment he promised, but certainly more in line with what I was expecting,” Daryun quipped to his King, hoping to show some confidence in the face of their failure. ꞦΆＮÒ𐌱ΕŞ

Imak, however, remained as quiet as he had over the past few days. The King barely said a word, hardly even acknowledged Daryun’s presence or his attempts to discuss their situation.

“Why do you think he’s imprisoning us together?” he asked, and when he received no answer, his irritation spiked. “Have you given up, Imak? Did I make a mistake when I swore myself to you? Did I choose a Lord wrongly?”

A response finally came. Imak intoned a single word. “Yes.”

Daryun took a deep, steadying breath. “Woe to us all, then. Men who followed me since I was a child, since they were children, died in that forest. Men who were like brothers to me. To give up after all that has been sacrificed is unconscionable.”

“I have lost everything,” Imak croaked. “What is a King with no Kingdom?”

“The leader of his people,” Daryun immediately replied. “After all that you have done, your people will follow your decision! The spirit of your people will live or die based on how you deal with this situation! This, more than any other, is your defining moment!”

Daryun moved closer to Imak, the hopeless King staring back at him with hollow eyes. With what felt like infinitely more determination than the King, Daryun glared down at him, a measure of disgust rising in his throat, the acidic taste foreign to his tongue. Just a week ago, he would never have thought he’d feel this way towards the man who’d saved him, Kaarahi Castle, and all of Alamati.

“How will you be remembered, Imak? Daryun growled. “Think of your legacy, of the future of your Kingdom! Will your people live under the foreign boots of their conquerors?! How will they speak of you when the end finally comes? Will you kneel and live in disgrace, or will you die on your feet, as a King should?!”

“The people can think what they want,” Imak spat. “Our armies have been broken, our arks destroyed… We have no ability to resist now. We live merely because Leon Raime has allowed it. The people will follow him because he is strong. He can provide them greater safety than I ever could. How much more will they care about?”

“The gods themselves ordained your line to rule,” Daryun stated. “Have you forgotten your own history?”

“Stories are told of the founding of my dynasty. That is all they are. Stories did not save us from the Sylphians. They will not save us now.”

“You blaspheme in what could be your final moments.”

“Let the Unnamed God judge me, then.”

A long sigh escaped Daryun’s lips, though none of his defiance went with it. “There is always a way to win,” he said in a low tone as he turned away from Imak. “I will find it. I will make it real.”

“Leon Raime will destroy you,” Imak said.

Daryun snorted derisively. “You are almost five times my age, Imak. Perhaps this has clouded your judgment. Do you remember peace? Before the Sylphians and the chaos they brought?”

“There was never such a thing as peace,” Imak argued. “Before the Sylphians, we were threatened by others. Peace has never lasted for longer than a decade as long as I’ve been alive.”

“Yes, you have known it,” Daryun pointed out. “And even if you would argue against that, then I’d say that you’ve known security. Until the Sylphians, how many times has the Kingdom been brought to the brink of destruction or subjugation?”

Imak went silent for an almost painfully long moment. Daryun didn’t need him to answer, however; he already knew the answer.

Until the Sylphians, Imak’s Kingdom had gone almost a thousand years without a major crisis like this. Wars were fought, but the army had always protected the most populated regions of the Kingdom, maintaining stability and at least some measure of prosperity.

“All my life, I have only ever known war,” Daryun said. “If I were built for surrender, I would’ve surrendered to the Sylphians long ago. With only the resources of Kaarahi and Alamati, I held off their hordes for a century! With the Kingdom, you could go even further, saving not just the Kingdom, but all of Kesken!”

A quiet confession escaped Imak’s lips. “I… would rather submit than continue to fight. If we lay down our arms, then we might live. Everyone might live.”

Daryun thought of Nimrak, Jontos, and his father. He thought of the dozens and dozens of faces that had come and gone in his service throughout the years. He thought of the hundreds and thousands of people who had fought and bled and died for Alamati over the past century.

“Everyone is already dead. But I am not. I remain. I will not dishonor their sacrifice by bending my knees.”

Imak went silent for a long time, long enough that Daryun thought their conversation had ended. Daryun sat down on the stone floor, giving his King the only bed in the cell—a final concession for the man who had saved Alamati.

Finally, Imak simply said, “You did make a mistake. I release you from all oaths you have sworn to me, Lord Daryun. I wish you luck. Should you live, may you find a Lord more worthy of you than me.”

Daryun closed his eyes, unable to bear looking at Imak. Being released from oaths was a heavy thing; Imak was essentially granting him independence from the Kingdom. Such a state had been de facto in effect until Imak reinforced Daryun against the Ark Lord, but now it was official.

Were it under any other circumstances, Daryun would’ve been floored by his King’s generosity. Now, however, bile again rose in his throat and he had to squeeze his eyes and mouth shut to prevent himself from responding.

Besides, he had an idea, a last-ditch attempt to save himself and his people from Leon Raime’s domination…

---

The throne room of Storm Herald was packed as Leon entered—Tempest Knights, military commanders, locals who’d already submitted, so many were in there that there was little room to move. Fortunately, the Tempest Knights maintained space around the throne, allowing Leon to easily reach it from the doors in the back of the room.

A week had passed since the battle in the valley, which was already becoming known among the officers of Leon’s fleet as Nicetas’ Folly. He officially named it Imak’s Last Stand, however, both to show his enemy some measure of honor and to not further humiliate an officer who was already being administratively admonished for his failure. Besides, if the loss was so mocked, then it would be harder to learn from than otherwise.

Regardless, Leon now sat on his throne surrounded by much of the flower of Kesken. After Imak’s victory followed by Leon’s spectacular retaliation, the great men and women of Kesken were much more willing to submit. Many had in the preceding days, taking up much of Leon’s time.

Now, they came to the critical moment for Imak’s Kingdom. Leon wanted as many of his vassals to see their King submit as he could, which was why he delayed this moment for as long as he had. However, he wasn’t willing to go longer than a week, leading to this moment.

The doors on the other side of the throne room swung open, and Imak and Daryun were both led into the chamber, each manacled in the Ravens’ best antimagic chains. Both looked like they had seen better days, looking dirty and haggard as the Tempest Knights escorted them inside. They were the final two who had fought against Leon who hadn’t yet formally submitted or been killed.

Leon’s lips twitched momentarily as he remembered the high point of those submissions: Lord Mayor Ibra Rassim, who had surrendered to Leon without a fight. Given his particular crime against an elder of the Hart Tribe, Leon only accepted his submission after the return of Lir’s remains, including his antlers. Leon had been tempted to follow through on his desire to execute the man, but several high-ranking Harts came to him and asked for mercy, as was their wont. A Jaguar or a Tiger might’ve only asked him to stay his blade so that they could take the man’s head themselves, but the Harts asked for mercy.

Such a request was not something Leon felt he could turn down, so he spared Ibra’s life in return for forcing him to guard the tomb that Lir was to be interred within for no less than a century.

Daryun and Imak were pushed through the crowd, many of whom they knew personally and who whispered amongst themselves, unable to look away as they were brought before Leon. The Tempest Knights didn’t force them to their knees, however, as Leon wanted them to do that themselves.

Without any further ceremony, Leon directly said, “Submit to me. You have no other options.”

To his mild surprise, Imak paused only long enough to give Daryun a sorrowful look before his knees hit the floor.

“I offer you my crown, Leon Raime,” Imak croaked. “I submit to you, entirely.”

Daryun, however, remained on his feet, stubbornly glaring right back at Leon.

“I… will not submit!” he declared, and the room almost immediately exploded into furious shouts and either scandalized or excited whispers. Both Daryun and Leon ignored that, however, and maintained their long staring contest.

After a few seconds, Leon silenced the room with a flexing of his aura. “The consequences of that decision will be dire, Daryun. Have you thought this over fully?”

“I am ready to die!” Daryun shouted for all the room to clearly hear. “I would be remiss in my duties to my people by bowing to a foreign conqueror! So I will not bow!” He glanced around the room, ensuring that he had everyone’s attention. “Furthermore, Leon Raime! I have another matter for you! The fate of this Kingdom! Of Kesken as a whole!”

“Oh?” Leon asked, intrigued as to where Daryun was going with this.

Daryun’s gaze sharpened; Leon could almost physically feel his determination.

“Leon Raime… I challenge you to a duel for the fate of Kesken!”