The palace in Imak’s capital city was sumptuous, built with monumental architecture and featuring no less than twenty enormous, many-pillared halls. The whole place was a tapestry of color, every room featuring a new visual theme, and the throne room itself decorated in bright, garish colors designed to ensnare the senses and impress upon everyone the wealth and power of the ruler of such a majestic palace.

Leon sat in the throne crafted for Imak’s line trying to stifle the headache that so many gaudy, glaring colors were giving him, but there was almost nowhere to look to give his eyes a rest. The people that were filling the room were almost as bad, too, with hundreds of nobles and magistrates from all over Kesken presenting themselves before him, all dressed in their absolute finest, which inevitably meant more bright colors, more shining gold, more sparkling silver, and more headache for Leon.

Still, he was fine enduring this spectacle, given what it meant. What was more, though he wasn’t having much fun, he could almost physically feel the pride radiating from his Ancestor in his soul realm, watching the proceedings like a child watching presents being laid at her feet.

One by one, these nobles and magistrates bowed before Leon, swearing oaths of fealty, promising to be good and honest vassals, to uphold his laws, and to follow his commands. He was their King, and his Kingdom now stretched from the furthest reaches of Kesken to its closest fields and streets. Aside from a few decentralized Tribes in the deepest mountains and forests whose continued refusal was of no consequence, the entire plane was now his.

There were several reasons for this, but the largest one was almost inarguably his conflict with Imak’s forces which climaxed with his duel against Daryun.

[This is it, Leon, this is the result of power…] Low and almost sensual, the Thunderbird’s voice was like that of a mother, a Queen Dowager standing over his shoulder, gleefully watching the world come to him. [This is what it means to be powerful. This is why I have always emphasized your power over everything else. When you, the King, are strong, all else falls into place.]

Leon couldn’t bring himself to argue even if he wanted to. His armies were mighty indeed, but it was his display of personal power that finally tipped the scales and brought him all of Kesken. Before his duel with Daryun, about half of the plane had fallen to him in about a month. Now, the rest was his less than half a month later.

[You don’t have to sound so excited,] Leon quipped.

[Let an old woman revel in her many-times-grandson’s accomplishments, damn you.]

Leon restrained himself from rolling his eyes as he responded to the most recent noble to swear to him—the Lord-Master of Haechel, plus about thirty other titles that were painstakingly read out, a rank that was roughly analogous to Duke if Leon were to think in Bull Kingdom terms.

When his acknowledgment of this ‘Duke’s’ fealty was finished, crackling heat reached his mind’s ear.

[The pigeon is right to emphasize power, human.]

[I haven’t said she wasn’t, demon.]

[Your attitude was enough.]

[It’s been a long day.]

[It’s not even midday, yet.]

Leon internally groaned as the ninety-second of at least three hundred new vassals approached the ornate throne and bowed at its golden feet. He did his best to pay attention, but he was far more invested in what his demonic partner and his Ancestor had to say, rehashed though this ‘lesson’ might have been.

[Look around you, boy,] Xaphan growled, his words coming as hot as the flames covering his body. [So many here, and all as a result of your power. Fear, respect, hope for greater power of their own… All of this has conspired to deliver the plane into your waiting hands.]

[You have conquered the plane with hardly any effort.] The Thunderbird’s addition almost set Leon off, but he quickly finished acknowledging the next new vassal’s fealty before delivering his rebuttal.

[My forces suffered to get us here. Almost one and a half thousand are dead, with as many injured. Ten arks have been shot down, eight from the battle with Imak alone.]

[They’ll get better, the wounded and survivors both.] If words could shrug, the Thunderbird’s certainly did.

[Though you are my Ancestor, you tread on dangerous ground,] Leon growled.

[It’s good for a King to think of his people like that, but don’t grow so concerned for them that it locks your decision-making, Leon. They have willingly signed on to fight for you and the Clan. What use is an army if it is not used?]

It took inhuman self-control for Leon to keep his expression nobly austere and stony, and to properly respond to the next Keskenian Lord swearing fealty. When he was finished, his anger had somewhat calmed.

[You care for your warriors,] the Thunderbird said, [this is good, my boy. Let my lesson sink in, then: your strength has ensured that fewer will die on this nothi—on this very consequential and strategically important plane. Your new vassals retain their power, and you retain yours. All you had to do was flex what you have in the right way, and they fall over themselves to swear their allegiance to you. As I said, this is power. Power means peace. Be strong, and your enemies will fear to challenge you. Be weak, and you are nothing more than a victim.]

[Personal strength is not everything.] A pointless protest that didn’t disprove her point, but Leon was in a more argumentative mood now.

[When did I say it was? Matchstick, did you hear me say that ‘power is everything’?]

[Sure as fuck didn’t.]

[Armies, alliances, all of these work. But don’t twist my words here, Leon, you know what I’m talking about. You know that I’m right.]

Leon nodded subtly. He was the King. That was true right now, and so long as he remained strong, it would always remain so. But if he weakened, someone might try to replace him. He could trust the Ten Tribes, but as his Kingdom encompassed more and more people—people who would inevitably rise up the ranks of his military and bureaucracy—the almost worshipful attitudes of the Ten Tribes might not be enough to ensure his safety. His personal strength would be the greatest deterrent not just against foreign invaders, but also from domestic threats. If he had the strength of a god, then none but other gods would dare to challenge him.

[Yes, I can see it, you know I’m right.] Puffed-up feathers and an avian face contorted in unnatural ways to resemble a human smile. That wasn’t the Thunderbird as she said those words, but Leon could picture it as they entered his mind’s ears, at least.

Leon decided to end the debate there. The last thing he wanted while receiving his new vassals was to listen to a lecture from the Thunderbird and Xaphan. Leaving them to glory in what he’d accomplished was fine, he’d continue going about business in his own way.

He smiled as the one-hundredth new vassals came up to swear fealty.

‘One-third down, two-thirds to go…’

—

“Has he eaten?”

“No, Your Majesty.”

“Has he done anything aside from staring out of the window?”

“Not that I know of.”

Leon sighed. The Tempest Knight at the door of Daryun’s not-quite-prison was strong and attentive, but he wasn’t omniscient or omnipresent within Daryun’s chamber. He could keep the defeated Keskenian Lord safe and under control, but what was going through his mind was beyond the guard. Leon couldn’t blame him for that, not when he was a user of fire magic and not darkness magic.

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“Open the door.”

The knight didn’t waste time bowing but instead sprang to action, opening the door for Leon and following him into the richly appointed living quarters.

Following his defeat in the duel, Leon had set Daryun up in Imak’s palace, in private apartments usually reserved for visiting dignitaries. Now, all of those visiting dignitaries were Leon’s vassals, and they were largely quartering out in the city rather than in the palace, which Leon’s people were instead occupying. Daryun had plenty of privacy and time—two weeks of it—to process his defeat and figure out what he wanted next.

Now, it was time for Leon to make good on his declaration.

Daryun was acting much as he had been when Leon visited him before their duel: sitting in front of the window, staring off at whatever he could see. This time, however, he was in an actual chair rather than kneeling on the floor. He didn’t acknowledge Leon’s entrance, nor did he so much as twitch when Leon dismissed the Tempest Knight and strode further into the chamber.

“You look like your Ancestors have half a hold over you,” Leon observed. “Are you so tired of life?”

Nothing responded from Daryun save a long sigh. Leon pressed on, determined to make the man speak.

“I have beaten you, and as we agreed, your life belongs to me. But I have no desire nor need for a slave; a knight will do. I would have you swear your fealty to me in no uncertain terms.”

Daryun’s eyes flickered in his direction. “I had thought you would’ve come sooner. I’d wondered if sending myself into the arms of the Unnamed God would be the best answer I could give you. But… my hand faltered. I couldn’t follow through.”

A frown marred Leon’s serious visage. “What stopped you?”

Finally, Daryun properly glanced at him before his eyes found the polished stone floor and the threads of the carpet just behind him. “I… am in no hurry to see my life judged. You have given me time, Leon Raime, and I have used it to think. These two weeks have been the first time in my life that I have been able to just… think. I… All my life has been spent in the shadow of the Sylphians. They ruled this plane, remaining threats even long after you cast them down in the Nexus. They killed my father and assaulted my home every year afterward. War and preparation for war eclipsed all else in my consideration. I have lived a life of blood and battle, and quiet moments were a luxury I could not afford.”

A long, whistling sigh escaped Daryun’s nose as his eyes closed. When he opened them again, his face was set with greater determination, and his dark eyes gleamed with purpose.

“I am no great Lord. Alamati would be better off without me if war is now a thing of the past. All I have ever known is resistance against invaders; what use could I be in times of peace? I cannot languish in some countryside estate, content with a rich and easy life. My hands shake at the thought of relinquishing my spear for too long. My legs quake with no horse to ride into battle. This, Leon Raime, more than anything, is why I resisted you. You could have made all the promises you wished, proven yourself to be more honorable than Lydis, Champion of Dreadfell, and I would have fought you to the death. For that is who I am. I am war, I am the shattering of shields and cracking of whips, the crashing of swords and clattering of chariot wheels, the breaking of lances and the smashing of armor. And that is where I end. I am no more than that.

“When you defeated me, you declared that you were conscripting me into your service, that I had no choice. My hand may yet steady in the future; I will always have a choice. I refuse to serve a man with no honor, no pride, and no ambition. So tell me now: why should I serve you?”

“If it’s ambition that you seek, then you have found it. I seek dominion over the Storm Lands of the Nexus, to stand at the pinnacle of the universe as my Ancestors once did, to have naught above me and all at my feet. Nothing less than full restoration of my Clan to the heights it once enjoyed will satisfy me.

“If it’s pride, then know that I will bow to no King. I will acknowledge no Lord and no law above me. To rule as the Storm King demands nothing less.

“And if it’s honor, I will say no more, for my actions will speak for themselves.”

“They have,” Daryun whispered. “Imak threw down his crown after you defeated him instead of dying with his honor and pride intact. Now, he will die in obscurity, comfortable with his life despite the tarnishing of his legacy. No Great Heclas will he be, but instead a new Ulochios.” A ghost of a smile flashed across Dayrun’s face. “Perhaps I am being uncharitable; Ulochios had more ambition than skill or power and suffered for it. Imak had both skill and power, but he could not anticipate your arrival. Had you never come, perhaps he would’ve united this continent for the first time since the reign of the Sylphians, as Great Heclas once did.”

“As it is now,” Leon stated. Daryun stared at him in momentary shock before schooling his expression. “Yes,” Leon confirmed, “All the powers of this continent, save for some of the more obstinate Tribes in your far east have sworn themselves to me.”

“No one cares about those Tribes,” Daryun stated. “They live upon land bereft of resources and are so weak they cannot even raid into the richer lands.”

“So I’ve been assured. Still, my Exarchs will deal with that issue in time, it doesn’t affect us right here and now. Daryun, I have declared you to be conscripted. Are you going to resist me?”

Daryun breathed deeply. Myriad emotions played out for Leon to witness until his features once more settled upon grim determination. “No, I suppose I won’t. For now.”

Leon softly chuckled. “I suppose that means you think you have a chance to turn these circumstances around?”

“Not necessarily. But as I said, Leon Raime: my Lord will be honorable, will have the pride of a King, and will have ambition that puts all to shame. I would accept nothing less.”

“And should I fail to display those characteristics?”

“Then I will consider my oaths null and void, and will act accordingly.”

“You believe I would just let that happen?”

“Maybe not if you become dishonorable, but certainly if you lose your pride or ambition.”

Leon frowned deeply, the expression cutting deep into his face before straightening out once again. “I find that to be agreeable enough. Though I should remind you, Daryun, as you no doubt understand this already: good Kings take advice from their advisors and all who wish to give it. They are less receptive

to judgment, especially so in public.’

“Heh. I will keep my thoughts to myself unless asked.”

“Good.”

A warm breeze blew in through the open window, carrying frantic whispers and elated shouts into the palace. If he listened closely, Leon could likely hear everything that was happening outside of robust privacy enchantments within the city, and if he concentrated, he could probably listen in on those private conversations, too, were he so inclined. Instead, a flash of red caught his eye in a nearby courtyard, and his lips twitched upward.

“By the way, Daryun… my knights do not fight on horseback these days. We have much better tools than that to accomplish our tasks. That being said, I have no problem with you keeping a horse.” As he spoke, Leon approached the window and blatantly stared in the direction of that courtyard, wordlessly inviting Daryun to do the same.

A pulse of magic told Leon that he’d projected his magic senses, and once they reached the courtyard, Daryun closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, his eyelashes sparkled with unshed tears.

“He’s a fine beast,” Leon stated. “He’s given my beastmasters quite a bit of trouble. They’ll be happy to foist him back onto you.”

Daryun chuckled. “He was wild. All the best horses of the White Horn Mountains are. Climbing those mountains may not make them the fastest horses in all the land, but they are the strongest and the boldest. It took me no less than forty tries to break him, but ever since, he’s been my best friend and my closest companion.”

“Then it’s good that he’s back where he belongs.”

A moment of silence passed between them before Daryun quietly said, “Thank you, Leon Raime. King Leon.”

A nod was Leon’s answer, at least until he scrunched his face up in thought for a moment and asked, “How would you like to hear a secret?”

“A secret? A bit early to be confiding in me, isn’t it? I’m hardly your most trusted advisor or confidant, am I?”

“Of course not; it’s not that kind of secret. ‘Kesken’. It means ‘chaos’ in your language, doesn’t it?”

“Close enough. That’s more of a southern dialect.”

“Still. With my dominion over this plane, chaos can abate. And that means this plane needs a new name.”

“Already looking to make a mark upon this land?”

“I’ve made plenty of marks. Mostly craters from lightning blasts. This one will be less destructive, I hope.”

“That will depend on the name. Should it insult those who remain when you inevitably leave…”

Leon shook his head and seemed to jump into a non sequitur he led Daryun down his line of thinking.

“Eighty thousand years ago, my Clan faced… hard times. It is this fall that I am determined to reverse, but that’s a story for another time. A certain Prince saved my Clan from complete destruction. Demetrios, son of Jason Keraunos, and the founding member of my branch of the Clan.”

“The first ‘Raime’?”

“No, House Raime began later, though Raime, the man who gave his name to my Clan, was a direct descendant of Demetrios, and the first Thunder King of the Great Plateau if I remember my House’s history correctly… Anyway, I have decided that this plane will be named ‘Demetrion’, as will the entire Planar Cluster once all is said and done. What say you to that?”

Daryun rubbed his chin thoughtfully before answering, “To be named after the savior of your Clan… Most will consider it an honor, and the rest will be ignored or brought around. It is a good name. It honors us.”

“Good. Now get some rest, I’ll have you training with the Tempest Knights soon. And… should you wish to return to Alamati, I will allow it, so long as you remember to keep your visit relatively brief.”

That finally got Daryun to bow his head slightly. “Thank you… I… don’t quite know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything.”

Daryun grimaced lightly, something else now running through his mind with thoughts of home. “What… is your policy towards your sworn swords marrying?”

“The oaths you will be expected to swear in the days to come do not prohibit such things, so long as they don’t create a conflict of interest.”

Daryun slowly nodded, his face inscrutable. Leon wondered if he would be returning married, but didn’t give voice to the question. Instead, he clapped Daryun on the shoulder and took his leave, content that their meeting had gone about as well as he could’ve hoped for. He’d wanted Daryun as a retainer, and he’d succeeded in making it happen. What was more, it had even delivered all of Demetrion into his hands at the same time.

‘If only the remaining eight planes go as smoothly as this has…’ Leon thought as he allowed himself to enjoy this triumph, certain that there would be challenges aplenty ahead. When they presented themselves, he’d overcome them. This was one step of many to the throne of the Storm King, and he had no intention of taking any steps back.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep