Chapter 1244: Ramin

Ramin’s villa was decidedly spartan on the inside, with simple stone floors and walls. Murals adorned the walls, but were created with actual paint instead of projected light enchantments. The atrium had a mosaic in the center, but it had been made of colored stone and paint, too, rather than crystal or gemstones. There were no gold adornments, no shining silver anywhere Leon looked, no ostentatious displays of wealth. There wasn’t even that much furniture—a table here or there, and some lounges or stools, but little else—and what was there was simple, well-made, and lacking in ornamentation.

It struck a significant contrast in Leon’s mind after so many visits to palaces in Voidshore. While Ramin wasn’t an Anax, as a Basileus, he should’ve had the power and wealth to afford something flashier.

Archelaus led Leon’s small party through the halls instead of a servant—the hundreds of servants and other retainers that Ramin had brought were certainly not in the villa, though Leon didn’t know where they were. While the Tempest Knights and Paladins had been left out in the villa’s small forecourt, Leon still had his family and Clear Day at his side.

Through stone halls and thick wooden doors with unoiled hinges, all of which channeled a strangely small amount of magic, they trooped, the austere nature of the villa starting to weigh down on them. Their way was lit with flickering lamps and candles rather than steady magic lanterns, while suits of armor motionlessly stood guard throughout the halls—war golems, Leon guessed, though he wasn’t able to take a closer look at any of them.

Finally, Archelaus led them to the rearmost room of the villa. The trek hadn’t been far, but the lack of windows and smell of burning candles made it seem longer than it had.

Pausing at the thick set of double doors, Archelaus seemed to hesitate before glancing at Leon, a subtle warning in his eyes. Then, he pushed the doors open. Bronze hinges screeched as the doors swung inward, as if even the metal itself was reluctant to reveal the room’s inhabitants.

Leon was hardly deterred, though, and walked in after Archelaus, finding the room much as the others before, save for a thin rug on the floor, on which had been placed two unpadded wooden lounges. One of those lounges was already occupied by Ramin, the bronze-skinned man sitting on the edge instead of leaning back to enjoy the seat’s function. The other lounge was empty, its presumed occupant standing by the wall inspecting one of the painted murals. The bottom third of the room’s walls was solidly painted blood red, with the remaining two-thirds showing stylized scenes of mythic glory, the two parts separated by a painted pseudo window sill. The pale man whose aura exceeded Leon’s stared at one depicting a man slaying a man-sized dragon-like creature with an accurate spear thrust through its neck.

“Leon,” Archelaus said, grabbing his attention, “I present to you Ramin Gratithor Dardannica of House Tessron, Lord of Fell Thunder, Sovereign of the Nine Silver Cities, King of Nordreim, Joplos, Harkos, and Liotyr, Basileus of Eretrion, Despot of Ragethron, and Strategos of Brentock, Hestok, and Retriock.”

A host of titles, but the man himself didn’t so much as blink as he studied Leon with an intensity that nearly all of the other Storm Lords Leon had met so far had possessed. Leon met his gaze but didn’t stare, letting his eyes track not only Ramin but also Archelaus, the other Basileus, and the enormous eleventh-tier warrior clad in Adamant armor standing stock-still in one of the dark corners of the room.

“And this is the Honorable N’chezzar Sharh’gorragh, Basileus of Lortinios,” Archelaus continued, glancing meaningfully at the pale art-captivated man. To the man in armor, he added, “And that is Strategos Ryazos.”

He went quiet and smiled at Leon, wordlessly permitting him to introduce himself without interruption.

“I am Leon Raime,” he said. He then nodded to each of his people in turn. “These are my wives, Elise, Cassandra, Valeria, and Naiad. This is my brother Anzu, and my advisor Clear Day.” He kept his introduction brief, and only Cassandra bristled at how he sped through it. None of them spoke up, however.

After a brief silence, N’chezzar finally said in a smooth baritone, “Is that it?” He turned to finally regard Leon and his party with his eyes instead of other senses, and in meeting them, Leon felt a shiver run down his spine. Behind those pale blue orbs lay an ocean of killing intent that even he couldn’t match.

But a quick shiver didn’t prevent him from responding, nor from smiling confidently. “I have little patience for extensive titles, despite urging from other places.” He shared a grin with Elise and Cassandra, the two in his party who’d advocated the most for his use of titles to showcase his power. “I’m of the belief that my name ought to be all the title I need.”

N’chezzar smiled wolfishly but otherwise didn’t respond. He turned his back fully on the mural and leaned back against it, leaving the conversation for the time being.

“I’ve heard much about you, Leon,” Ramin finally stated, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. “Good Archelaus here argued extensively for your independence.”

Leon raised an eyebrow and gave Archelaus an appreciative look before swinging his eyes back in Ramin’s direction. “He’s been a good neighbor to me, and enjoys having me on his flank, I think. Keeps things stable and predictable, not to mention allowing us to trade more than anyone did with the cities as they were before me.”

Ramin grunted noncommittally. Instead of directly addressing Leon, he asked, “How has your experience been in Voidshore so far? I understand there was some excitement brought about by Triyr and Morui…”

“It’s been enlightening, in a way,” Leon answered. “It’s proven to me that no matter how strong we are, we are all still human. Head into any court in a small planar Kingdom and people would probably behave much the same. As for Triyr and Morui themselves… despite placing enormous terms on me for the duel, and my easy demands in comparison, they have not yet fulfilled the terms even though I beat Triyr.”

Ramin shifted slightly, his arms lightly folding across his chest. “Honor. Too rare a trait.”

Warmth spread through Leon’s body from his agreement, but he kept his face otherwise pleasantly neutral.

Rising from the chair, Ramin began to pace like a caged animal. “Such dishonor ought not to be tolerated. Were we not on the verge of the Belicenian Games, I would call them both out publicly! In my Empire, such perfidy is punishable by a week of torture and the permanent loss of the tongue!”

Anger roiled off his toned form like heat from a fire, and while Leon weathered it just fine, he felt some in his party recoil slightly. He flexed his aura just a bit to help protect them.

Ramin continued, “Without honor, a man has nothing. Without honor, a man is nothing. Do you agree?”

‘Depends on what ‘honor’ means,’ Leon quietly thought.

He wasn’t looking to get into a philosophical discussion about precisely what honor was, especially since he already had a good idea of what Ramin’s answer would be, so he simply said, “Yes.”

“Then we understand each other,” Ramin stated. “And in understanding, we find peace and prosperity.”

N’chezzar snorted softly, drawing Ramin’s attention, but no one in the room said anything, and Ramin let it go unchallenged.

When Ramin returned his attention to Leon, he said, “I have several concerns regarding you, Leon. Archelaus, old and venerable though he is, tends to see too much good in people, and can paint with too bright a brush when describing people to me. Will you answer openly and honestly my concerns?”

Leon, amused, smiled briefly at Archelaus, who looked more exasperated than anything, and said, “Only those who don’t know me have concerns. Ask away and let us both relieve ourselves of undue burdens.”

Without a moment’s thought, Ramin began. “Archelaus has spent much time with you, and accompanied you without his Strategoi despite you bringing yours with you.”

“My Strategoi had other con—” Archelaus began, but he was silenced with a look of reprimand from Ramin, who swiftly returned his penetrating glare to Leon once Archelaus’ protest had died.

“This speaks well of his trust,” Ramin continued, “but I wonder if that trust is misplaced. Tell me of your dealings with the Ocean King’s favored daughter, the Princess who frequents your city more than is proper…”

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With as little hesitation as Ramin showed in asking, Leon answered. “Princess Miuna is a close friend and partner. During the war I fought with Terris when first establishing myself in the Nexus, I inflicted significant damage upon Terris’ forces. Rather than continuing the bloody struggle, the Princess negotiated peace between us that she personally benefited from—one of the key contentions with Terris was a sizable deposit of Titanstone that my surveyors found on the shore. After reparations for the losses I sustained, Princess Miuna and I split the proceeds of that mine down the middle. She also acknowledges my claim to that land and ensures that no Ocean Lord attempts to rip me out of it.”

Eyes narrowed in obvious suspicion, Ramin asked, “That is it?”

“We are friendly enough,” Leon said with a glance at his wives.

“Maybe too friendly,” Elise responded, taking Leon’s implied invitation to speak up.

“Is that so?” Ramin asked. “Perhaps I need a woman’s opinion on this, then. What are your opinions on Princess Miuna? What are her intentions regarding the Storm Lands?”

“Regarding the Storm Lands?” Elise again responded. “Nothing. She doesn’t care about the Storm Lands. What she wants is our husband.”

“If she had her way,” Cassandra added, “Leon would have five wives, not four. Not that we’re going to share, though.”

Ramin looked away, a thoughtful look in his eye. In his silence, N’chezzar laughed and said, “The brat’s infatuated, then? And you intend to deny her heart’s desire?”

“We aren’t sharing with her,” Valeria resolutely said as Elise and Cassandra looked at each other and giggled.

N’chezzar laughed again, his guffaws booming like thunder. “Good!” he bellowed. “The spoiled wench needs to learn that the universe doesn’t belong to her!”

“You have experience with her?” Leon asked.

“Experience?” N’chezzar shot back. “When the waves crashed upon the northern shores, my lightning boiled them away! Sharks feasted in red waters every time the Lords of Kiporis attempted to follow their King’s example and raid and rape through the Storm Lands!” He paused a moment and grinned at Ramin. “Though…” he said more quietly, his tone taking on a more nostalgic tenor, “it wasn’t until I chased them to their underwater citadels and showed them the proper way to conduct an expedition that the tide finally receded.”

“You sound disappointed,” Archelaus observed.

“Of course I am!” N’chezzar thundered. “Such glory I won! The renown! I was turned away from no hall for thousands of years! My name was cheered throughout the Storm Lands more than there are raindrops in a storm! I have never felt more alive!”

Archelaus smirked and cast a sly eye at Leon. “I think Jason Keraunos might have liked you.”

“And why shouldn’t he have?!” N’chezzar returned. “I am liked by everyone, save the fish in the sea!”

Leon cocked his head slightly as he asked, “You never met my Ancestor?”

“Claiming such descent can be seen as arrogant, Leon,” Ramin said, reentering the conversation.

“Only if it’s not the truth,” Leon said. He raised a hand and let silver-blue lightning crackle around his fingers.

“That’s not needed,” Ramin said. “Neither my friend N’chezzar nor I were around in the Nexus in the days of yore. We only found our way there after the Nexus’ most recent reconstitution.”

“Oh,” Leon responded. “I’d thought you were both older than that.”

N’chezzar snorted. “We are. Not much older, and we weren’t in the Nexus in those days. Nothing about it, we just weren’t there.”

“Do you believe the claim?” Ramin asked as his eyes swiveled to Archelaus.

“You know that I do.” Archelaus’ voice was steady and confident, and Ramin slowly nodded as it echoed through the room.

“I knew a Thunderbird Prince once,” Ramin said after several seconds. “Twelfth-tier. Brought news of the Thunderbird Clan abandoning Minos and Tiryns. He never said why, and he was killed before I was able to get more answers from him…”

“Hear that, Leon?” N’chezzar asked. “Keep a good head on your shoulders. Being open about power and claims is dangerous…”

“I’ve already had a hint of that danger,” Leon said. “Triyr found out the hard way how that tends to go.”

“Arrogance…” Ramin whispered.

“Not arrogance,” Leon retorted. “I’ve eaten enough losses to retain some degree of humility. But I did beat Triyr, which should give others some pause…”

“And others, motivation,” N’chezzar responded. “Dangerous youth. Better snuffed out before coming into maturity.”

“Such attempts would be contested,” Leon firmly stated.

“If it’s anything like the way you defended the Far West…” N’chezzar said with a dramatic pause, “… my khosrids are on you.”

Leon smiled. “Thanks.”

“Tell me,” Ramin said, suddenly turning to Leon and shifting the conversation, “of Iaivi Fortress.”

Leon blinked in surprise, but he needed only a moment to reorient himself. “Archelaus knows about what I do—”

“I want to hear it from you,” Ramin insisted. When Leon gave him a skeptical look, he further clarified, “I want another perspective on the matter. Jors-kil, I’ll be speaking with later, once Illum fetches him. He will put the event there in his own words, as you will in yours. Your words may reveal a detail that Archelaus missed and that may be the key to solving this strange mystery…”

“How much of a mystery is there?” N’chezzar growled. “The fortress was attacked. Find out who did it, then kill them. Or leave them for Drenthor.”

Ramin turned and glared at N’chezzar. “Drenthor has enough to deal with right now.” N’chezzar gave him a questioning look, but instead of clarifying, Ramin turned his eyes back to Leon and glared expectantly.

So, Leon did as requested and narrated events from his perspective from arrival at Iaivi Fortress to their departure. However, he left the almost-certain connection between the silver masks and Khosrow unstated for the time being. He wasn’t sure of Ramin’s thoughts toward Khosrow, and until he confirmed that, he wasn’t going to trust him with everything.

When he finished, Ramin closed his eyes and hummed in consideration. “Thank you, Leon, though whom I should direct my anger toward is yet a mystery…”

“Is that the only concern?” Leon asked, the specter of doubt growing in his mind. “A piece of critical universal infrastructure was attacked, and it wasn’t discovered for years! How does that happen?!”

“As I said,” Ramin testily reiterated, “Drenthor has much to deal with right now.”

“What challenges does he face?” Archelaus asked, frowning slightly.

“Unimportant,” Ramin replied in a clipped tone. “For now, I will say this: I have met you, Despot Leon, and Despot Archelaus’ assessment of you has been vindicated. I have taken your measure, and for the moment, my opinion is that you are honorable enough to trust. You are also powerful enough to rely upon as a friend and potential ally. When the Belicenian Games have run their course, I would visit Artorion and see to the negotiation of a trade deal, both between you and me, and between you and Anax Alderion.”

“It seems everyone’s wanting what I have,” Leon said with a hint of sarcasm.

“Do you find this plan objectionable?” Ramin asked.

“No,” Leon immediately replied. “But I’ve already had a request to trade for storm crystal from Anax Jericho, and now you’re saying that Anax Alderion wants some, too. Fulfilling demand may take a while, at least until production can be scaled up.”

“And can it be scaled up?” Ramin asked pointedly.

“Yes,” Leon answered.

“It might be beneficial to sell the secrets to thunder sto—to storm crystal’s creation…”

“Not beneficial enough.” Leon’s tone was firm; there was no way in any hell that he was going to let loose with that particular secret. Storm crystal, cloud glass, thunder wood, and thunder wood amber were all materials that he currently had a monopoly on, and that gave him power, power he wasn’t going to relinquish.

“That might engender resentment among others,” Ramin said.

N’chezzar quickly added, “Others might decide to take what you have instead of dealing with you for it…”

“They’ll have to get in line,” Leon quipped. “Those who will try to kill me for the power in my blood seem like they’re more likely to try first. And after beating Triyr… some might hesitate to act against me.”

“Some might,” N’chezzar agreed even as he squared up and gave Leon a challenging look. Leon almost thought the Basileus was going to attack when Ramin swiftly interrupted.

“Trading for the storm crystal is advantageous, especially since you and Archelaus have an established trading relationship. We’ll discuss details later, and we will all leave with what we want. Khosrow’s Law will not be violated over this.” He gestured at the storm crystal pendant he yet wore, and glared momentarily at N’chezzar, who shrugged and relaxed his posture. “Avail yourself of my hospitality whenever you wish, Leon,” Ramin generously said. “Until next time we meet. For now, this Iaivi business must be dealt with…”

Without another word, Ramin left the room, and the almost unnervingly silent Ryazos swiftly followed him. N’chezzar, however, remained in the room and sauntered over to Leon.

“I missed your duel with Triyr,” he said. “But I hope to see your skills firsthand. Perhaps we might spar?”

“Right now?” Leon asked doubtfully.

N’chezzar’s face lit up in anticipation, but just as quickly dimmed. “… I’d answer yes, but… there are other concerns of mine to see to. Perhaps at Khosrow’s Fane? Or even on Belicenion? We can have an exhibition duel there.”

“I’m generally less enthused about making a public spectacle,” Leon said.

“Then… perhaps you might show me around that magnificent ark of yours,” N’chezzar offered. “If it’s truly Storm Herald… to see the inside was a dream of mine, you know. I spent centuries trying to find where Jason Keraunos led his doomed expedition just to try and find that ark.”

“Your search failed, then,” Leon stated.

“It did, to my great disappointment. But now, the ark is before me, owned by a potential ally. Surely you would indulge me?”

Leon frowned in thought and snuck a glance at Archelaus, who yet remained in the room. The man didn’t seem concerned, so Leon accepted.

N’chezzar laughed in delight and said, “I’ll be in touch. For now, I bid all of you farewell. It has been a pleasure to meet you. Until we meet again…”

The Basileus almost strutted out of the room, leaving Leon alone with Archelaus and the rest of his party.

Archelaus almost immediately deflated in relief and said, “That went… well. Ramin doesn’t always like those he meets with, and those he doesn’t like tend to find themselves sailing down an Aesii in short order.”

“A better idea of the man himself would’ve been helpful heading into this,” Clear said, the tau staring at the open door through which the others had departed.

“Let’s talk about him, shall we?” Archelaus said. “I know a good place not far from here, caters almost exclusively to powerful mages—specializes in a kind of dish of black fish and red leaves that is just…” He grinned and hummed in anticipated delight. Leon’s wives seemed eager—even Maia, though she remained outwardly stoic—so Leon agreed to join Archelaus for lunch. If he was going to make attending the Belicenian Games a habit, then knowing his way around Voidshore ought to be helpful, and finding good places to eat was part of that.

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