The sound of laughter filled Sakhmej’s great dining hall, and the aroma of all the finest delicacies the plane had to offer delighted the senses. The room was lit by floating rings of glowing gold, the band of each one thinner than a hand but with a diameter of at least two grown men. Carpets had been removed from the polished stone floor allowing people to dance to the tune of the finest bards that could be secured in preparation for this celebration.

The celebration itself didn’t mean much to Leon in a strict sense, but it was a holiday celebrated across Demetrion—it was the anniversary of the crowning of the first man to ever unite the plane under his banner. Such had happened only twice since—once under the Sylphians and their Lord Reaver, and then a third time under Leon. He was happy to be celebrated alongside this famous hero of the plane, even though his Empire didn’t last even a single century before disintegrating. Even his capital had been lost to time as demographic shifts left it abandoned five thousand years ago.

‘Maybe looking for it will kill some time,’ Leon pondered. Waiting for the conquest of the rest of the planar cluster was hard enough, especially now that Cosmo had had several weeks to settle in and take over most administrative duties that Leon had been seeing to in the meantime.

He sat at the far end of the hall from its main doors, the enormous table in front of him replete with not only more food than an entire Clan could eat in one sitting but also various Thunderbird-shaped statues and centerpieces. Few shared his table save for some of his closest allies, which had somewhat intimidated the crowd a bit when the celebration began. However, once Daryun arrived and Leon called for him to sit at his table, that opened the floodgates, allowing first the boldest of his guests to approach his table and strike up conversations with his allies, and then those not quite as bold after them.

Cosmo was thriving in this environment, smoothly shifting between the various nobles and magisters without making any of them feel insulted, while also avoiding making any undue promises. Many of them wanted to secure positions of power and authority by befriending him, which was varyingly obvious, but Cosmo avoided those pitfalls, which was made all the more impressive by just how many pitfalls there were—every noble and magister of note across the plane had been invited and ferried over to Sakhmej, for none wanted to miss schmoozing with their new King and his representative on the plane.

Leon’s first Planarch had sat on his right before the long line of ‘new friends’ forced him to get up and stand off to the side. Fortunately for Leon, everyone else in the room, especially those who hadn’t directly sworn their fealty to him—nearly all of whom were newly elected magisters of various cities whose predecessors had bowed—were still too intimidated by his presence and aura to risk approaching him for anything more than a few polite words.

That worked out fine for him, as it gave him time to watch them and see how their internal dynamics played out—every magister and noble of note on the plane was present, which meant that many were now talking to each other about whatever political business concerned them. More than a dozen languages were being spoken, too few of which Leon understood, but Daryun had been seated further to his left, after Anzu, Anshu, and Red. However, Anora had wanted to get to know the people her husband was to administer better, and so had called him over to chat. As he watched his newest subjects, Leon listened to what they had to say.

“… and that one is the King of—the Prince of Negistramont, Jandros of House Istramont.”

“He looks quite… jolly,” Anora whispered, and indeed, Leon saw that her assessment was spot-on; the Prince’s face was lined in a way that suggested a perpetual smile, while his red face, large belly, and relatively weak tier suggested a life spent pursuing leisure rather than power. At the very least, he was certainly fairly deep into his cups, yet he carried himself well, while his booming laugh drew quite a few sour looks from those around him. “A bottle or two of Kethellion wine from the fields outside Rainasos will be appreciated, I think.”

“From what little I know of him, that would go over well,” Daryun responded.

“What about those two?” Anora continued as she pointed to a pair of nobles who looked well into a long argument. They hadn’t had the decency to find a corner to argue in, unfortunately, even if they were easy to lose in the immense hall.

“Hmm,” Daryun hummed as his face contorted with thought. “The one on the left is the High Lord of Grapehall, and the other is the First Magister of Liupon—I can’t remember their names, I apologize.”

“That’s fine; just… why are they arguing in so public a place?”

“Grapehall is no great power, my lady, but its modest power has waned in the past few centuries. The Lords of the hall used to hold dominion over Liupon, but they were forced to give it up when the citizens rose in rebellion while the Lord’s army was elsewhere. Despite many attempts, Grapehall has always maintained that Liupon is its rightful possession. I can’t quite hear what they’re saying, but if I had to guess, it’s probably some territorial dispute. They can’t agree on what their boundaries are, and Grapehall is always willing to surreptitiously move the boundary stones.”

“Your knowledge of this plane is well received, Lord Daryun,” Anora replied with a grateful smile. “I will send you a gift soon, as thanks.”

“There’s no need for that,” Daryun replied with a polite shake of his head, but Anora insisted, and Daryun was released from his explanations with a bottle of Kethellion wine of his own—it was all he’d accept. However, he hadn’t made a single pace back to his seat when the argument between the Lord of Grapehall and the Magister of Liupon grew so heated that several of their acquaintances jumped in to separate them. Despite that, the two still shouted in a language that Leon couldn’t understand, the Lord so worked up that spit was flying from his gaping mouth.

“What an uncouth display,” Anora stated derisively, and for a moment, it almost looked like a proper fight was going to break out as other members of each arguing man’s entourage raced back to them with violence in their eyes, while many others around them backed up to watch the show.

But as the crowd gathered, Leon released his aura, and instantly, the temperature in the hall noticeably fell. Distant thunder shook the hall while a bolt of lightning flashed behind the great stained glass windows, and everyone in the hall froze to stare at Leon.

Leon, in turn, glared down at the two about-to-fight men. He said nothing, and the two quickly bowed and apologized in heavily accented Nexus common. Only once they had separated did Leon retract his aura, allowing the celebration to continue after an awkward moment of silence.

“That was… efficient,” Anora quipped as Daryun stared, mouth agape.

“Better to end things before they get out of hand,” Leon replied with a fatherly smile. “You could perform such a feat yourself if you only applied yourself more…” He narrowed his eyes as he blatantly gave her sixth-tier aura a critical look.

“Yes, yes,” she replied with a melodic laugh. “You’ve given me that lecture enough times, Uncle.”

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Daryun almost choked just as he looked about ready to continue back to his seat. “You two are related?”

Anora laughed again, this one a bit louder and with greater amusement, and even Leon cracked a shallow smile. “No, no, King Leon has been a good family friend for so long that that’s just what many of us call him.”

“‘Many of us’,” Leon responded. “You’re the only one to use it to my face.”

“Well, Felix and Cosmo are your subordinates now, as are Alexander and Perdiccas! They have to be formal! But… between you and me, Nidar and Astar would love to drop the formality, but Anna enforces it with an iron fist.”

“Really… I’ll have to talk to her about that when I get back to Artorion. Until then… Daryun, why don’t you join me for a moment.”

“Of course.” Daryun sure wasn’t going to disagree with such a direct invitation, and neither was he going to take Cosmo’s seat, no matter how temporary it might have been.

“What do you see here, in a general sense?” Leon asked leadingly.

“It’s a party,” Daryun replied. “I wasn’t able to throw very many back home. All of my resources were devoted to preparing for the next raid launched by the Sylphians.”

“I get that,” Leon nodded with an expression that started shifting to something prouder. “What I see is a bunch of people who used to have great reason to hate and fight each other less than a year ago now laughing and celebrating at the same tables. Holding a celebration like this will do more to foster peace than a thousand arks.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Daryun responded with a deep frown. “A lot of peace can be enforced with so many arks.”

“I exaggerated for effect, Daryun, no need to be pedantic. But I suppose you’re not wrong; these people are only here because I have forced them to be in one way or another. My power is great enough to stop violence before it happens.”

“That is a noble use of power,” Daryun neutrally stated as if he were reading the line off a page rather than speaking from the heart.

“It might be difficult for someone so used to war to truly get, but this is what peace looks like. We celebrate, we talk, we hash out problems without spilling blood. It’s too rare a thing for such peace to be achieved. This is certainly not what is taking place in the Nexus. The Ocean King yet wars with the Mountain King, the Storm Lands are more divided than they’ve been since… ever, really… and the Burning King has been making moves at the Shadow King. And that’s to say nothing of the lower-intensity conflicts breaking out within these regions, for the Kings rarely have absolute control over all of the Anakes and Basileis and other Lords that should owe them fealty according to Khosrow’s Law. This is what I hope to bring, Daryun. Peace, under my aegis.”

“Not many will be so willing to bow even if this is what you promise,” Daryun stated. “Peace will not happen on its own, not so long as those who covet their neighbors’ property yet exist. Not so long as people like the Sylphians exist.”

“And that is why we train.” Leon gave Anora a meaningful look, which the woman took with a playful smile and subtle shrug. “I have often been advised to seek power, those advising me promising that all else will fall into place once power is attained. I will kill those who break my peace. That makes peace possible.”

“Fair enough.” Daryun spoke the words lightly enough, but he turned back to Leon and said, “No peace is permanent. Your enemies will always return—at least, until they’re all dead.”

“Another reason why we train,” Leon stated, to which Daryun finally nodded in agreement.

With that, Leon dismissed his newest follower to return to the feast, and he went back to watching his people celebrate in their own ways. Fortunately, no one else tried to start any fights, and the rest of the feast was almost depressingly uneventful, especially since Leon was unwilling to head down and dance with people without one of his wives coaxing him into it.

That was fine with him, though. The battlefield was his dancefloor, and if Anzu’s report was right—the griffin had been dancing with as many of the comely young women that he could since the music started—Leon was soon to dance, anyway.

—

The sounds of cheering and crying filled the air as the last of the valiant and stalwart Void Wolves entered their arks and took flight. Two hundred arks rose from the earth and crossed from air to Voidspace in perfect formation, as many other task forces had done in recent weeks. Such a sight created quite a stir amongst the people—so much power could hardly fail in its endeavor, could it?

Yun could understand the feeling; he could feel his heart flutter with anticipation and confidence as the thrum of the magical engines, distant though they were, resonated in his chest.

“Your part now, Elevated One,” a hated voice from behind him said, the too-high and too-sweet tones hitting his ears like grease. Despite this, Yun raised the spear of his forebears into the sky and shouted, “Lady Victory is with us!”

A dozen men had spoken during the launching ceremony, but these five words were all he had to say. He almost said more, to address the rest of the Void Wolves who had yet to join their brothers in Voidspace, but a nudge from his side dissuaded that notion.

He glared at his protector, his best friend—quite possibly his only friend within the Palace of Blue Stars, his personal protector Zhang. The man was tall and handsome, dressed in shining white armor and purple padding beneath. On his breastplate, the head of a dragon had been prominently embossed, symbolizing his position and who he worked for.

Zhang had once been known by a different name, but he had forsaken it for his duty. Yun sometimes wondered why, though he’d never mustered up the courage to ask. Regardless, Zhang was one of the strongest men in the Empire, standing at a strong tenth-tier. Only five other people in all of Yun’s domains could match him in sheer power, and none of them could match him with the blade or bow.

It wasn’t lost on Yun how much worse his position would be if he didn’t have Zhang in his corner. He was only fourth-tier and at nineteen years old, there were men in his government who’d been in their positions for an order of magnitude longer than he’d been alive. And these men didn’t much appreciate taking orders from teenagers. The Regency Council made most of the decisions, though, so for the moment at least, there were no problems.

There would be another launching ceremony in a week. The Void Wolves had to be deployed; those strangers from another plane were clearly not working alone, and their arks weren’t those of wandering pirates. They’d been put to flight, but they had retreated in such good order that there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that they were going to return with greater forces.

Yun suppressed a bitter frown at the memory of the white-skinned and red-eyed young man who’d been presented to him not long ago. He’d liked him and had even set aside the nicest guest palace for him and his entourage to use. Unfortunately, someone on the Regency Council was spooked or paranoid—or both—and made moves against his guests. Blood was shed in the Imperial Palace complex, and there was nothing Yun could do about it—he hadn’t even been informed until Anzu and his followers were off-plane.

The reports of the battle in Voidspace had many feeling confident—putting the threat to flight certainly boosted morale, even if they knew that this wasn’t over yet. Now, they had to be ready for when the real threat arrived.

This worry itched in the back of Yun’s skull as Zhang escorted him back to the Palace of Blue Stars, his most gilded prison.

“What do you think will happen, Zhang?” he quietly asked once they were reasonably alone.”

“The Void Wolves are strong and well-trained,” his guard responded. “I do not worry much about it.”

“I do,” Yun stated. “This war was started against my wishes. I did not want this, and I can’t fathom what will happen next…”

He spoke as they rounded a corner through the gardens, temporarily giving them some manner of privacy. Zhang took him by the shoulder and spun him around, and Yun couldn’t even bring himself to be momentarily annoyed—his father had done similar things before he’d taken ill, and Zhang quite resembled him in manner if not in look when he did this.

“No matter what happens, Elevated One,” he solemnly stated, “I will protect you. You will come to no harm so long as I am here. Never forget that.”

The bodyguard withdrew his hand before the following maids could catch up.

“Thank you, my friend,” Yun said. “I will be counting on you from now on. Even if we win, I will need your help with these regents…”

“Of course,” Zhang said with a smile. “Your will; my hands…”

Such a loyal man was not one to be squandered, but as Yun glanced back at the sky, the cheering of the civilian crowd having died down and the lights from the engines of the departing arks now little more than glinting specks amidst the wild blue yonder, he couldn’t help but shiver. No matter what was coming, he was certain that it would result in nothing but squandered lives. He just hoped the Void Wolves would give better than they received, for no matter what intrigues infested the Imperial Palace, any invader had to know that attacking his Empire was a foolish move…

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep