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1242 - Politics and a Party
🕑 Added 2025-06-27 15:00:16 +0000 UTCMagic engines pulsed, braking hard as the space around the transport ark was suddenly filled with the magic senses of a hundred post-Apotheosis mages and their powerful attendants. Such concentrated power almost physically manifested, and though the ark pilot and his giant partner were skilled, it took Leon projecting his own power to smooth out the landing.
The arkpad was large enough for a frigate to land, so there was plenty of space around the transport. Taking advantage of that, half a dozen Ulta suits and a dozen giants landed next to the ark, the steel and bronze exteriors of the great machines shining in Voidshore’s light. Their presence gave the arkpad attendants pause, so when the ark’s door opened, revealing Leon, his family, and the dozen or so Tempest Knights to the world, they stepped out into Voidshore’s air alone.
The arkpad was part of a large palace—at least in absolute terms—though it was rather small for the other palaces Leon had seen so far. A single main building, rising into the sky like a silver needle, and with smoke-like clouds rising and falling along the exterior, glittering with contained lightning. Around the tall spire were several small gardens, nowhere near as extensive as at the palace that hosted Morui’s gala, but filled with exotic plants that Leon had never seen before. Blue mushrooms as tall as the trees around them glowed faintly, with spore-like lights falling constantly from the underside of the caps; luminous spear-like flowers rose from the ground and acted as lights along the stone path leading into the spire; and red chrysanthemums sparkled like new stars in the dark.
There were other wonders in the gardens, but Leon couldn’t admire them for long as numerous armed and armored men surged out of the ground—the stone splitting open to reveal them—and surrounded the ark. None of them presented much threat to Leon, but he and his family prepared for a fight anyway.
No violence broke out, however, as moments later, Jericho himself, dressed in resplendent golden robes sauntered out of the spire, his arms spread welcomingly and a wide smile on his face. Around his brow rested a crown of golden leaves—actual woven leaves, as far as Leon could tell, and not forged gold—while his hair had ben swept back and sprinkled with sparkling ruby dust.
“Despot Leon!” he called out. “Strategoi Elise, Cassandra, Naiad, and Valeria, too! Welcome! Welcome!” His expression momentarily vanished as he waved at the guards surrounding the arkpad. “Away with all of you! These are my guests, not an invading foe!”
The guards didn’t hesitate a moment and soon disappeared back under the palace.
“Ahh, there we are,” Jericho said as he approached Leon. “I apologize for that bit of unpleasantness.”
Leon’s knights, giants, and Ulta pilots parted to allow the fourteenth-tier Anax through at Leon’s whispered instruction.
“I understand that it’s necessary,” Leon said. “But I hope you can forgive us for arriving so encumbered; Despot Archelaus told me that my duel with Triyr made an impression upon many Lords, and not one that was entirely positive…”
“Nothing to forgive!” Jericho replied as he extended an arm. Leon took it, clasping wrists, but he was unprepared for Jericho to then pull him into a tight, brotherly embrace. “It was quite a spectacle, but you have nothing to fear in my palace! To upset an Anax is to court death, and I have decreed this place to be a haven for all Storm Lords!”
“Quite the common thing, it seems,” Leon said as he and Jericho parted. “This is the third palace of a Storm Lord in this city that I’ve been in, though you are the first proper owner I’ve met. I hadn’t expected so many higher-tier Lords to look out for those lower on the totem, so to speak.”
“I believe I understand…” Jericho replied as he turned to escort them inside. “It’s a courtesy when representing our Lands to the rest of the universe. For all of our disagreements, Lords tend to band together to resist threats from without.” As they walked Leon, made a gesture and the Tempest Knights stayed with the transport, following it into the sky without boarding it again. The giants and Ulta suits followed suit, but remained hovering closer to the palace even as the transport flew higher to join the small swarm of other transport craft that circled the spire. Only Leon, Elise, Maia, Valeria, Cassandra, and Anzu followed Jericho.
“Tend to,” Elise said as she slid a hand around Leon’s arm.
“… There are divisions in all ranks,” Jericho diplomatically responded. “Some minor, some major.”
“I’m sure not having a proper Storm King exacerbates that,” Cassandra observed as she took Leon’s other arm.
“Jumping right into a political discussion, are you?” Jericho said with a slightly-tightened smile. “Bold.”
“It’s a concern, isn’t it?” Cassandra asked.
“Yes, yes it is. But one to talk about right this moment? Perhaps we let the drink take hold before broaching such important matters. Loosened tongues will only help understanding, after all…”
Leon softly snorted and interjected, “You have a magnificent palace, Anax Jericho.”
“Just ‘Jericho’, please. I’m not overfond of titles.”
“Then just ‘Leon’.”
“After that duel, I do not believe you are ‘just’ anything, my new friend.”
Leon smirked and gave Jericho a sly look. They passed the palace’s threshold into an atrium as richly appointed as Leon could’ve expected, but he paid no attention to it at all. “I am what I am.”
“And you ‘are’ a descendant of the Thunderbird?” Jericho asked, pausing in the atrium, leading to Leon and his family pausing beside him. “Such was your claim, anyway.”
“It is no ‘claim’; it is the truth.” Leon spoke with conviction and flared his aura, backing his words up with the smallest expression of his power.
Jericho stared at him seriously for a long moment before another wide grin grew over his lips.
“Two hundred and thirty-seven thousand years ago, Storm King Jason Keraunos mobilized one of the largest fleets in the history of the Storm Lands. I had the honor of joining that mobilization. Alongside the Storm King, we launched ourselves into the Strands of Maura, Tisimon, and Kwesh, and conquered them. Then we launched ourselves into the Great Strand of Ionis, adding ten thousand new planes to those ruled by Storm Lords. Campaigns of such scale have been few since the Primal Age, and I count myself lucky to have participated in one.”
Leon listened with rapt attention. The strands Jericho spoke of were about halfway between the Nexus and the realms of the demons, the Elemental Planes at the edge of the known universe. They were relatively small strands, amounting to perhaps a thousand planes when combined. But those three strands connected the Great Strand of Rhea—a Great Strand largely controlled by the Thunderbird Clan and other Storm Lords—with the Great Strand of Ionis.
“I wasn’t aware that my Ancestors pushed that far into Ionis.”
“It was a glorious campaign, filled with triumphs and setbacks, as all such great works are.” Jericho spoke in nostalgic tones, pride practically radiating out of him as he lost himself in recollection. “I was but a new Strategos at the time, and for reasons beyond my control, I couldn’t return to my home plane. But when the campaign came to an end, King Jason gifted the newly-won planes to younger Lords such as myself. Two hundred Lords with little fortune or land were given both in one act. Few of us remain these days, but there are a few who remember how we’ve personally benefitted from the Thunderbird Clan.”
Jericho paused again to fix Leon in his steely gaze. “I have fought alongside Princes and Lords who bore the power of the Thunderbird. I even once saw Jason Keraunos shatter a plane more than twenty-thousand miles across in a single move! Which is to say that not only am I old, I also recognized that power you used against Triyr—or most of it, anyway. I also saw Storm Herald out there. It was on that very ark that Jason Keraunos granted me my first planar cluster, around which I built my Kingdom.”
Silence stretched between them as Leon and his family tensed, waiting for what felt like a shoe to drop.
But then Jericho wistfully sighed and said, “How times change. In the days of Jason Keraunos, I believe the Storm Lands had reached their peak. After his death and the fall of the Thunderbird Clan, we have been lost. I, for one, celebrate your spectacular arrival and your defeat of Basileus Triyr. I hope you don’t go the way of other hopeful heirs.”
Leon awkwardly smiled as Jericho once again led them through the hall, past a host of servants and legions of guards, until they emerged into a large ballroom, where once again, the gala’s attendee largely separated into social class and magical tier.
“Please enjoy yourselves, all of you,” Jericho implored. “Nothing would make me more upset than a guest of my party having a terrible time. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I left Basileus Lorgos in the middle of a fascinating conversation to come and greet you, and I would be a terrible host to not finish it. We simply must speak later, but until then, I shall leave you to the tender mercies of our fellow Lords!”
Leon hardly heard what he said as the attention of nearly everyone in the ballroom had fallen upon him and his party the moment they entered the room. More than a hundred Strategoi, two dozen Despots, and four Basileis were within—though no sign of Triyr or Morui, to his relief—and nearly a thousand of their retainers too. A wall of noise hit them as the Lords immediately began whispering amongst each other, their eyes still largely trained on Leon, though the pressure of their attention lessened considerably as Jericho left them to mingle.
“See to your new friends, husband,” Elise said as she nodded toward Gwarim, who was practically dragging Archelaus and Illum with him as he hurtled in their direction. “We’ll go and chat up the other Strategoi.”
Leon squeezed her hand as she and Cassandra released their holds on his arms, and then his wives and brother departed him just as another wall of noise crashed onto him.
“LEON! MY FRIEND! YOUR PRESENCE HERE IS A THING WORTH CELEBRATING!”
Leon smiled at Gwarim, his face heating up from embarrassment despite how much it lifted his spirits.
“Gwarim. Good to see you. Archelaus, Illum, you two as well.”
“How are you, Leon?” Archelaus asked as Gwarim came to a halt. “I have heard many seeking to send you messages after your duel. I regret not being able to help with that, but certain duties have taken precedence.”
“Oh?” Leon asked as he joined the other three and started slowly walking to the other Despots in the ballroom. “What kinds of duties?”
“Basileus Ramin will arrive tomorrow,” Archelaus said. “Illum and I have been preparing to meet with him and those of our fellow Lords who are accompanying him.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting him,” Leon said. “You’ve built him up a bit in my head, you know.”
Archelaus softly chuckled. “Perhaps I have. We’ve spoken often in the past century given all of the recent developments in the Far West. He’s eager to meet you, too. He’ll undoubtedly present a contrast with certain other Basileis you’ve interacted with so far…”
Leon hummed in response. “Speaking of which… Where are Morui and Triyr? I believe they still owe me for losing that duel…”
“Those COWARDS!" Gwarim thundered. “Running after their loss instead of taking it like men! Has their pride blinded them to the lessons of Khosrow? Are the Great Lord’s words on the merits of honor and integrity lost on them?”
“My friend,” Illum said, addressing Gwarim, “perhaps bringing up Khosrow’s Law is not the best idea given present company…”
Gwarim glanced at Leon and grimaced slightly. “I mean nothing by this, Leon—there’s much of value to be found in the Great Lord’s Law, though the Canticles of Hormizd are best ignored.”
“I’m not so thin-skinned as to be insulted by an unintentional slight,” Leon responded. “And I wouldn’t even consider this a slight. No matter what it says about those with Inherited Bloodlines, we still live in a world defined by Khosrow’s Law. To ignore that reality is to ignore reality itself.”
Gwarim gave him a booming laugh before slapping him on the back. Despite their shared tier, the enormous man’s great physical strength still left Leon’s skin smarting.
“An enviable attitude,” Illum said appreciatively. “As for your question… Morui has been making a fool of himself quite publicly. Or at least as publicly as he will permit himself to be. He parties and makes a show of how little he was affected by your win, but he hasn’t been seen out in public since then. I would not expect much from him.”
“Shit-brained fool,” Gwarim murmured as he cast a dirty look roughly in the direction of Morui.
“As for Triyr,” Archelaus said, continuing where Illum left off, “he hasn’t been seen at all. I heard a rumor that he’s already left Voidshore, but that’s been impossible to verify.”
“Should I be concerned about that?” Leon asked.
“No,” Gwarim immediately said. “After that thrashing, Triyr won’t have the stones or the rod to try a damned thing. The gods, his fellows, even his Ancestors will be cursing his name and denying him support.”
“I agree,” Illum said. “At the very least, I doubt you’ll have to field any further challenges from any Lords who saw you fight until after the Games. The Storm Lords have embarrassed ourselves enough, and now we have to present a unified front.”
“It’s already enough of a scandal that Triyr challenged you at all,” Archelaus added. “A Basileus not only challenging a Despot but demanding his women too? More than daylight robbery, this was shameful beyond expression.”
Leon wasn’t too mollified, but he felt reassured that Triyr and Morui wouldn’t make themselves nuisances over the short term, at least.
A brief lull ensued, and Gwarim went almost uncharacteristically quiet. He nodded to Jericho and Lorgos, who were speaking quite intensely, though Lorgos had drawn a silence rune in the air around them, and the power of that ancient rune ensured that their conversation remained only between them. Of course, the mere act of separating themselves had drawn quite a bit of attention, including apparently Gwarim’s.
“What do you think those two are flapping their lips about?” he asked their small group.
“War,” Illum immediately said, to Gwarim, Leon, and Archelaus’ surprise.
“Is there war in Ionis?” Archelaus asked.
“Not yet,” Illum said, “but there have been provocations from Rhea. Apparently several Strategoi from the Burning Lands have been scouting out paths through Rhea in Ionis’ direction.” He shared a look with the other two Despots, and an understanding seemed to pass between them that Leon wasn’t privy to.
“History there, I take it?” he asked.
Archelaus grunted in amusement. “You could say that. I don’t know how far back it goes, but our host has a long and bloody history with another Anax from the Burning Lands: a certain Kischerill, if I’m remembering the name right. Striking at each other happens every few thousand years. But if Rhea is getting involved…”
“Rhea’s too broken to get properly involved,” Illum said. “Too many Lords, too many planes. But cutting a path through to hit Jericho from behind? That’s doable.”
“How does Lorgos factor in?” Leon asked as the strategic situation started taking shape in his head.
“Lorgos’ territory lies in the Great Strand of Rhea,” Archelaus explained. “If Jericho wants to defend his flank without committing too many resources, of which he has few to spare, then Lorgos would be a useful ally. Or more worryingly for our host, Lorgos might give these Burning Lords safe passage through his Voidspace, which would prove calamitous for Jericho. Assuming these threats are justified, which they might not be.”
“How few resources does Jericho have?” Leon asked. “There are only a few ways into Ionis from Rhea, aren’t there? Through three thin planar strands?” He thought back to what Jericho said about it just minutes ago. If this was a concern of his, then Leon wasn’t that surprised he’d brought it up.
“Jericho doesn’t control those strands,” Illum elucidated. “Using them as chokepoints wouldn’t work. As it is, the borders of his territories are too jagged and broken to be efficiently defended. He even rules several exclaves across the universe that require defending. Even as an Anax, his fleets and armies are overtaxed.”
Leon frowned. He wondered just how large and undefendable Jericho’s territory had to be for that kind of a strategic situation to take shape. Given the nature of the Ten Tribes, Leon had rarely found himself short on men or material for his strategic aims. Spiders mined, Bison farmed, Jaguars and Lions and Tigers fought; staffing up for certain endeavors had already been easy. What was more, there were signs that his new conquests might become fertile recruiting ground for future fleets and legions.
‘How big would my Kingdom have to be for it to get indefensible?’ he wondered.
While he wondered, several other Lords finally approached his group, and while they exchanged nothing more than introductions and a few pleasantries, it seemed to break the seal on many other Lords walking over to do the same, many of which were escorted over by his wives. Names, faces, titles, and auras seemed to blend together since they were so numerous, but Leon did his level best to memorize them all. Fortunately, he didn’t have to answer many questions about his lineage, but that was a small comfort in the face of the great Lordly horde.
He was aware of every passing second as each new face came and went, some effusively praising his performance in the duel while others coldly made their introductions and left, but he soldiered on, facing the challenge with the same strength, if not the same enthusiasm, as he had Triyr.
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Comments
Warden
Thanks, fixed! =)
Specter
Thank you! Triyr challenged your at all,” -> you
Bryn
Thanks for the chapter!
