Chapter 1234: Lords of the Storm Lands III

“What?!” Gwarim boomed. “Jors-kil!”

The Strategos in question, who had been quietly speaking with Strategos Jagan, looked over, a smile fading slightly when he noticed all of the Despots staring at him.

“Get over here!” Gwarim thundered as he waved the man over.

Jors-kil excused himself and crossed the room, leaving the Strategoi and joining the Despots.

“The old man says Iaivi Fortress was attacked,” Gwarim said. “What happened?”

Jors-kil exchanged a serious look with Archelaus before launching into the same explanation he’d given Leon and Archelaus aboard Storm Herald. The arrival of Strategos Alichieri, his anxiety, the arrival of Alichieri’s pursuers, the battle, and the sacking of the fortress. Leon noted that he went light on details for most of his explanation, but he nearly skipped entirely over what he had personally suffered, though he couldn’t blame him for that. He also noted that Jors-kil made no mention of the silver masks.

When he was finished, the four Despots had varied, though also similar reactions.

“Drenthor will not leave this be,” Illum murmured.

“AS WELL HE SHOULDN’T!” Gwarim roared, bolting to his feet with an aura towering so highly that the other group went silent and stared. “SUCH A BLATANT ATTACK ON THE STORM LANDS OUGHT TO BE RESPONDED TO IN KIND!”

In contrast to the raging giant of a man, Nuertis asked Jors-kil, “Have you informed anyone else about this, yet?”

“Not yet,” Jors-kil replied. “Despot Raime was kind enough to bring me here, and I haven’t had a chance to send word.”

“You should see to your duty before entertaining the whims of other Despots,” Nuertis said coolly, a reprimanding glare briefly sent Archelaus and Leon’s way.

“It has been years,” Archelaus testily responded. “The man deserves to rest before speaking with Drenthor. We all know how that will go.”

Nuertis went quiet for a long moment and though he didn’t verbally reply, he still looked chastened.

“HE WOULD REACT WITH LESS THAN APPROPRIATE VIOLENCE!” Gwarim continued in that moment of silence. “NO LEVEL OF VIOLENCE IS TOO MUCH FOR SUCH VERMIN WHO WOULD STRIKE AT US!”

“You have an unusual definition of ‘us’,” Illum quipped.

Gwarim, with a softer but no less furious tone, asked, “Are you not insulted? Does your sense of honor not carry you far enough to desire vengeance? We have been attacked!”

“Jors-kil and Drenthor have been attacked,” Illum calmly responded. “How have I been struck by this unknown foe?”

Gwarim stared incredulously for a long moment before turning to Leon and saying, “You see how fractured we are? No sense of shared honor! How can the Storm Lands stand against the others when we are so divided?”

“We don’t even know who attacked Iaivi,” Archelaus pointed out. “What vengeance can be had against a shadow?”

“Ask Despot Thrayn,” Gwarim retorted. “He was recently ripped apart by a pack of feral Gale Lords.”

“He was? When?”

“Six months ago, and given the depravities he brought to Windblast Point, about three millennia too late.”

“What happened?” Leon asked, his curiosity piqued.

Archelaus answered, “Thrayn, when he was still establishing himself as a Strategos, settled his people within the Shadow Lands. Windblast Point is the southernmost point of the Gale Lands, and less than a thousand miles from Thrayn’s chosen settlement. Thrayn chose to raid Windblast Point and enslaved millions, putting them to work in his newly-settled territory.”

“It took just over three thousand years,” Illum said, “but the Gale Lords have had their revenge. I believe the Gale Queen personally entrusted Anax Notus with carrying out the punitive strike, and she did so with extreme prejudice. Thrayn’s Despotate was wiped out, the few survivors scattered to the winds.”

“A direct challenge from the Gale Queen…” Archelaus murmured. “What was the Shadow Queen’s response?”

“She has let the matter lie, as far as I’m aware. Though… do not be surprised if the Shadow and Gale Lords are particularly competitive on Belicenion this year…”

“Is this sort of thing common?” Leon asked, fascinated with the discussion so far.

“Not to interrupt,” Archelaus said as his eyes turned back to Jors-kil. “My friend, rest and see to your health. I’m sure Drenthor will not begrudge you another few days before getting into contact.”

“I appreciate your words, Archelaus, but I was planning on heading over to the Thunder Beacon before the day was out.”

“‘Thunder Beacon’?” Leon asked. “That sounds intriguing…”

“An ancient beacon established on this plane by one of your Ancestors, Leon,” Illum explained. “For millions of years, it has facilitated communication between Voidshore and the Nexus.”

“That sounds… powerful,” Leon replied. “And… expensive. To my understanding, hasn’t the Belicenion Games only been going on for one and a half Nexus cycles? Why establish such a facility here?”

“Voidshore has always been a strategic position,” Nuertis didactically replied. “Since it lies at the base of the Great Strand of Lux as the strand stretches out into the Void, the Sun Kings have always used it as a meeting place.”

“Many such beacons were built around the universe,” Archelaus added. “Building one here wasn’t particularly special, Leon. All of the other Elemental Lands have done the same. Communication through the universe has always been one thing that all the Elemental Kings have invested heavily into, no matter their other policies. Thank you, Jors-kil.”

Jors-kil bowed shallowly before heading back to Leon’s family and the rest of the Strategoi, though not before giving him a quick thankful smile.

“So,” Leon said as they were left on their own, “conflict between the Elemental Lands… how common is it?”

“Extremely common,” Gwarim bemoaned. “The authority of the Kings is always challenged. Many of the outer Lords have no Lords above them, and that leaves them arrogant and wild.”

Leon smiled awkwardly, knowing how much he resembled that remark.

“Even Lords within Khosrow’s Law might sometimes attack other Lands, or even their neighbors in the same Land,” Illum said. “It’s unfortunate, but we are only human, and too few take Khosrow’s Law seriously…”

“I almost came into conflict with another Storm Strategos myself,” Leon said as he meaningfully nodded to Archelaus.

“Ah, yes,” the Despot responded. “Strategos Djoser. As inconsequential as Alhamachim was, I do not believe he will ever let it go, truly. Pride shall ever be a collar about our necks. Sometimes, I wonder if all this power was worth it when, in the end, how much has changed? Arrogance, war, responsibility… and for what? To watch our kin and kith grow up without us, and leave us behind, on this shore of the Aesii with a heart that only ever grows colder…”

“Old man,” Gwarim growled, interrupting Archelaus. “You’re bringing the mood down.”

Archelaus blinked. “Ah, I suppose I am. Apologies, everyone.”

Illum laid a hand on his shoulder. “You are… not contemplating leaving us, are you?” he seriously asked. “No one should be in any hurry to cross the ghost rivers…”

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“Not seriously,” Archelaus lightly replied. “Once you’re at my age, though, it becomes hard not to focus on what has been lost.”

His words brought even the boisterous Gwarim down, and for long seconds, the group sat in silence—until Leon spoke up.

“Life will always be too short,” he said. “No matter how long one lives, time will take from us, and soon, it will demand everything. Let it come to me, I say. If time demands an end of me, I’d rather make it work for it!”

Gwarim gave a loud, booming laugh, but Archelaus smiled sadly at him and said, “Ahh, the arrogance of youth. I hope you never lose such spirit, Leon Raime, but I know better. Should you be fortunate enough to witness a few Nexus Reconstitutions, you will be a changed man, so utterly different from who you are now that you will be unrecognizable. Such an abyss of time, so incomprehensible that no mortal could ever perceive it, let alone know it… What can a man do when faced with eternity, though he is built for barely more than a century?”

“The same thing he’s always done,” Leon responded. “Time moves on, and it is never reclaimed. Even for we happy immortals, we will never get that time back. Letting it slip through our fingers is a travesty that I intend to never squander.”

“You… truly are young, aren’t you?” Nuertis whispered.

“Such optimism and idealism is rare to see in us old folk,” Illum added with an almost condescending smile. “We, who are beaten down by life, understand too much of the world to—”

Before he could finish, Realiz suddenly shouted, “Basileus Morui has been confronted by Refferti!”

“WHAT?!” Gwarim roared. “WHERE?!”

Realiz, some kind of blocky black stone in his hand covered with glowing communication runes, halted for a moment, quietly listening. After several seconds, he replied, “Dock nine hundred and thirteen!”

“COME!” Gwarim boomed. “OUR COMRADES NEED US! THOSE BURNING WHORES SEEK OUR DOWNFALL! LET US SHOW THEM THE STRENGTH OF OUR ARMS AND THE IRON IN OUR BLOOD!”

Without waiting for anyone else, golden lightning rippled across Gwarim’s body, and he exploded toward the door. Most of the others did the same, but Leon, Archelaus, and Leon’s entourage followed at a more sedate pace.

“What is happening?” Clear asked as he and Leon’s wives fell in beside him.

“The Burning Lord Refferti and the Storm Lord Morui have been bitter rivals for millennia,” Archelaus replied. “They never miss a chance to humiliate each other!”

The Despot accelerated ahead to catch up with the others, and while Leon intended to do the same, he glanced at the others.

Cassandra, Valeria, and Maia he wasn’t concerned about—they were all good fighters and used to battle. Elise and Clear, on the other hand… Elise wasn’t looking confident and seemed to only be going with the flow. Clear looked more concerned, but his aura was steady and his demeanor calm. Leon knew he could count on the tau in a fight no matter how much the tau detested fighting.

“Clear! Elise!” Leon shouted, getting their attention. “Stay behind the others! If this does turn out violent, make for Storm Herald!”

[I will guard her, too,] Maia declared, murder in her eyes and aura.

Elise almost looked like she wanted to argue, but after a moment, said, “Very well!”

With that, Leon and his five companions chased the others out of the palace of jagged glass.

—

Leon expected devastation, flashy magic, the stench of blood and sulfur and ozone drawing in mages like carrion to a battlefield of cataclysmic proportions. These were Lords, thirteenth-tier mages! A fight between them ought to have been epic, as far as he was concerned.

But instead, when he landed beside Gwarim and Archelaus, Nuertis and Illum just a few steps away and the other Strategoi behind them, he found the situation to be almost frustratingly mundane.

They were on a wide boulevard, streets for carriages and other vehicles to the right and left separated by a grassy field almost wide enough to race chariots on. He didn’t know how or why, but Refferti and Morui had landed in the field, each surrounded by other Lords and warriors. Leon counted no less than forty Strategoi and seven Despots surrounding Refferti. With Morui were thirty-eight Strategoi and eight Despots. Each had more than a hundred other followers with them of varying tiers, but all looked particularly nervous, especially with the auras of so many post-Apotheosis mages clashing between them practically tearing the earth apart between them.

“… and bow before me, I will let this slight slide!” Refferti shouted, his voice smooth and arrogant. He was a pretty man, with long orange hair spilling down his back like a fiery waterfall, while his sharp jaw was clean-shaven and his bright orange eyes glittered in the light of the luminous city they stood in. He was perhaps just a little bit shorter than Leon, though possessed a well-defined, if somewhat less muscular build than many of those around him.

“I would sooner suck shit straight from a bat’s asshole!” Morui shouted back, the words coming with a hint of an accent and antipathy so thick it could almost be physically felt. He was a larger man than Refferti and possessed a much more powerful build. His body was thick as tree trunks and had little of the same muscle definition as many well-trained mages, but that did not in any way take away from just how much strength Leon knew was in his thick limbs.

“That can be arranged…” one of Refferti’s Despots quipped, only to be silenced by glares from both Basileis.

“He speaks out of turn,” Refferti responded, “but I am entertained by the picture you paint! Do as you’ve claimed you’d prefer—suck waste directly from a bat’s nether region—and I will pretend that I never witnessed your grotesque form cross my path!”

Morui, incensed, began shouting back, occasionally slipping into a harsh language that Leon didn’t need to know to understand given Morui’s many crude gestures and vehement tone.

“We’re with you, Basileus,” Gwarim whispered from behind. The Basileus didn’t react to them, but Leon knew that he knew of their presence.

Leon himself wasn’t particularly keen on fighting here and now, but it seemed almost inevitable given the situation and the shouting match that the two Basileis were descending into. The people on the streets had already cleared out and he noticed what looked like city guardsmen hovering just a few blocks away, watching the brewing conflict with worried expressions. Even more worrying, more and more guardsmen were showing up with every passing second, each arriving guard seemingly stronger than the one who came before. He even saw a few eleventh-tier mages joining the guards and numerous other post-Apotheosis mages who seemed to be locals racing in their direction.

For Refferti’s part, it seemed that other Burning Lords were on their way, though the man himself didn’t seem to care. “I do not care how many of your ill-bred mongrels rush to join you, nistril! Challenge us today and all who visit this place in the future will marvel at the soot stain on the ground, knowing that is all that remains of you!”

“I have endured you for too long…!” Morui growled as golden lightning, nearly blinding Leon’s magic senses, raced over his body. “I will have your head today!”

Both sides brandished weapons and called upon their magic. Even Leon conjured his armor and Iron Pride, though he remained further back, committed to the fight only as far as the other Storm Lords were willing to take it—which, unfortunately, seemed to be as far as they could now that they had superior numbers.

However, before so much as a single spark could be exchanged, a mountainous aura crashed down upon them, followed by a calming light shining upon them from the highest tower in the center of Voidshore. All within the aura and the light, Basileus or not, froze.

“By decree of the Sun King, there shall be no violence here… Stow your magic and refrain from spilling hero’s blood into these hallowed streets…”

In a flash of light, two people appeared, one radiant and beautiful, the other huge and rugged.

The rugged one shouted, his aura slamming into everyone in the street, “You fucks! You shits! You forget yourselves! I expect such behavior from you fatherless Storm Lords, but the peace and sanctity of Voidshore and the Belicenion Games have been guaranteed by all the other Elemental Kings!”

The radiant woman added, her voice enchanting, her glowing smile captivating, “We do not seek to make liars out of our rightful sovereigns, by the grace of the Great Lord, do we?” Though her words were soft and easy to hear, her eyes momentarily sharpened into a dangerous glare that flitted between Morui and Refferti.

Though neither said anything, they quietly retracted their auras and their postures relaxed.

“Let us now part in peace, in mutual respect, and bring no further violence into being,” the woman added, and only when Refferti and Morui both turned away from each other did her aura and that of the mountainous man recede.

Under their watchful eyes, both groups took flight, Leon and his people flying just behind Morui and the other Storm Lords, but ahead of the rest of the contingent. They flew in silence for several seconds, crossing dozens of blocks before setting down in a large, though private, courtyard.

Archelaus landed beside Leon and let out a long breath. “Haha, Leon, what a time to arrive, wasn’t it?”

“That was…” Leon replied, but he was unable to find the words to finish the statement and simply let it hang.

It seemed Archelaus understood him perfectly well, however, for he grinned and said, “Yes, yes. But at least Anassa Britta and Anax Quagharin stepped in before anything could happen!”

“Who were those two?” he asked.

“Ah, Britta and Quagharin?” Leon nodded, and Archelaus happily continued, “Britta is the Lord of Voidshore, at least until the end of the Games. So many Lords pass through here on the road to Belicenion, of course, that someone of high stature and power must be here at all times to ensure peace. It is a thankless job, but Britta takes to it with such grace…”

Archelaus momentarily lost himself, a soft smile spreading across his face and a wistful look in his eyes. Then, he snapped back to the present and kept going as if he hadn’t paused.

“Quagharin was the bigger surprise—he’s a Mountain Lord, and I hadn’t realized he was even in the city! Not that it changes much, but it’s good to know that he’s present. From what I know, he’s not averse to using force, but is generally quite peaceable when he can be.”

Leon opened his mouth to keep going, but Morui suddenly pushed his way through his own Lords to stand before him, interrupting their quick debrief.

“You are Leon Raime?” he asked.

Leon turned to properly face the Basileus while plastering a generic smile over his annoyance. “That is my name, yes.”

“I am Basileus Morui, pleased to make your acquaintance. I am grateful for your support back there—may Refferti die a thousand times! I am holding a gala tonight, and I wish to invite you.” Morui paused and glanced at Leon’s ‘Strategoi’. He smiled especially at the ladies. “And all of you are invited, as well. All who count themselves among the Storm Lords have open invitations.”

“We accept!” Elise immediately replied as she took Leon’s right arm, causing Morui’s smile to fade just a smidgeon.

The Basileus nodded before gracefully moving to the other Lords who’d joined Gwarim in flying to Morui’s aid, leaving Leon to sigh as subtly as he could.

‘A party already…’ he silently bemoaned. ‘Damn…’

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