“… and landed a hit on Neyrho’s cock! The entire arena lost their minds, it was a wonder order was kept long enough for Kratin to get out!” As he recounted the events, Gwarim gestured wildly and energetically, easily getting Leon invested if only from how into the story he was.

“Odd,” Leon remarked after cringing slightly at how the fight had ended. “I wouldn’t have thought a fight would’ve ended over something so minor.”

“It wasn’t minor for Neyrho,” Archelaus said from a recliner beside him. “It took Anax Lippon personally intervening to reconstruct both cock and balls.”

Leon cringed again, but it didn’t change his mind. “I’ve seen a lot worse in other fights. Just seems odd to me that the crowd would get so worked up over that.”

“You’re talking about gladiators,” Gwarim said. “Those fights are more… permissive. Not so in Rhiya boxing! There are strict rules! It’s a proper sport, not performative combat! There’s a greater emphasis on the technical aspects of fighting rather than debasing yourself for a crowd!”

Leon shrugged. “I suppose it sounds interesting…”

Gwarim sighed and shook his head. “If you hadn’t fucked up with the Sun King, Leon, I would drag you out of this ark this moment to see some of those fights! You’d agree if you saw them, there are no greater martial artists than those who fight with their fists!”

“Is that why you use axes?” Archelaus pointedly asked.

“Emphasis on ‘artists’,” Gwarim replied.

“Heh. Thought so. But on that note… Leon, I have to ask… What in the name of Great Lord were you thinking? Getting into conflict with the Sun King himself on his favorite plane? After he staked his reputation on the peace of his Games?”

“Hadn’t planned on it,” Leon answered neutrally. “His daughter had other ideas and kidnapped one of my people. I merely took him back. It’s unfortunate that some people got hurt along the way, but the Sun King himself agreed that this matter didn’t rise to the level of kicking me out. It all worked out in the end.”

Gwarim laughed as he clapped Leon on the shoulder. “Share some of that luck, Leon! It’s unfair to hoard it all!”

“Haven’t you heard?” Leon shot back with a cheeky grin. “I’m half dragon! Hoarding things is perfectly within my nature!”

“And arrogance, too,” Gwarim shot back, a grin of his own clashing with Leon.

“Yes, dragons…” Archelaus whispered, his dour tone depressing the light atmosphere.

“Something wrong?” Leon asked, his grin falling a bit.

“Yes and no. No, as power is power, and being stronger is never a bad thing. But…”

“But…?” Gwarim pressed.

Archelaus stared at the wall for a moment, his eyes apparently tracing an old projection that Leon hadn’t changed from Jason Keranos’s time, showing one of the Thunderbird’s many triumphs. The projection showed the Thunderbird in flight, raining silver-blue lightning upon a group of animals, forty strong. Next, the Thunderbird had landed, the corpses of thirty of the animals surrounding her, with the remaining ten bowing to her power. Of those ten, however, Leon didn’t recognize any of them.

“The name of the Thunderbird carries weight in the Storm Lands,” Archelaus finally stated. “Prestige. Fear. Hatred. There will be some who want you dead, Leon, those who do not wish to return to the old days when the Thunderbird Clan ruled by sword and storm. Others would follow the name of the Thunderbird to the underworld and back, out of genuine love or respect for the power of the ancient name.

“Dragons hold no such power over the Storm Lands. There are many Lords for whom your claim is weaker now that your heritage has been revealed. The Thunderbird they would follow, but not the dragons.”

Many questions rushed through Leon’s mind, but Leon focused on the final part of his statement. “Are you one of those people? Do you hate me now that you know I am descended from the Great Black Dragon?”

Archelaus was quick to respond. “Hate? No, not hate. But I count myself among those who hold no love for dragons. Having greater draconic influence in the Storm Lands… will not endear you to hardliners. Many Lords wish for the Storm Lands to be united behind a strong Storm King. But almost all of them want a Storm King, not a Dragon King. They might look to Kamran for guidance instead of you.”

“Kamran? Not Halbast?”

Archelaus snorted. “Halbast is powerful, but Kamran will beat him.”

“A definitive opinion,” Gwarim said, “but still only an opinion. Do you know something we don’t, Archelaus? How are you so certain?”

“I’m older than both of you,” Archelaus stated. “I remember the old days. Kamran is older, more experienced, richer, stronger in all quantifiable ways. A war between fifteenth-tier mages will drag on for a long time, but I assure you that Kamran will come out on top. I have no special knowledge about what is going on now, but I fought in many of Jason Keraunos’s campaigns, some of which included Kamran. He is a vicious beast, one who will not hesitate to cut down his enemies wherever they may be.”

Leon frowned, not liking at all Archelaus’s assessment. Before he could respond, a knock came at the door, and Anzu stuck his head in. Given that this was a small, friendly gathering rather than something more politically consequential, his boldness was no issue, especially once he gave voice to what he had to say.

“Anax Jericho is here.”

—

“Leon!” the familiar form of Jericho boomed, his long brown hair pulled back into a loose ponytail this time, though his golden clothing was largely the same to Leon’s fashion-blind eye. “Ah, so good to see you!”

“You too, Jericho,” Leon replied, remembering that the man shared his dislike for titles. He clasped the man’s wrist strongly as he entered the room that the Anax had been shown to. The man had shown up with a party of two dozen, including a pair of Despots and four Strategoi, so he was shown plenty of hospitality. It was still no easy thing for such a powerful man to be within Storm Herald, but Leon was confident that there wouldn’t be any shenanigans, especially after Jericho expressed intent to visit Artorion to negotiate a trade deal for storm crystal.

“You’ve been missed out there,” Jericho said as he nodded to a projected window. “Even now, a mere three days from the closing ceremony, it’s not hard to find people talking about you!”

Leon grinned bashfully.

“Ah, don’t look so embarrassed, my friend! It’s a good thing to make such an impression! The power you’ve put on display has impressed many people!”

The way he said those words piqued Leon’s interest, and he fixed Jericho in a more professional gaze. “Including you?” he asked, hinting at a more relevant question regarding why Jericho decided to visit.

“I regret to say that I missed your duel with Basilissa Mikaela, but I saw every second of your duel with Bennu. That was… impressive. I am very impressed, Leon. The impression that you’ve made…” Jericho paused a moment and sighed. “I hate dancing around like this; I’ll just cut to the chase. Leon, when last we spoke, I spoke briefly of my home in Ionis. I have come today to speak more of it.”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Leon cocked an eyebrow and took a seat, silently offering Jericho another one, which the Anax took. Jericho, however, didn’t seem to relax much and instead leaned forward, his arms folding across his chest.

“I have a problem, Leon. A rather Basileus-shaped problem, that you might be in a position to solve for me.”

The smile on Leon’s face thinned as he recalled what he knew of Jericho’s territory. The Anax was based within the Great Strand of Ionis, which was connected to the Great Strand of Rhea by smaller strands of planar clusters. Jason Keraunos had launched an expedition into Ionis many thousands of years ago, conquering ten thousand planes and gifting those planes to young Lords. Jericho benefitted from that bequeathment and now ruled over thousands of planes in Ionis.

The path through the Great Strand of Rhea that Leon intended to take wouldn’t bring him close to those connective planar strands between Rhea and Ionis, however. The Great Strand of Atreus, the old core of his Clan, was his goal, not Ionis. But Leon suspected that Jericho might ask him to adjust his plans…

“I have been fighting a long war against local Lords out in Ionis,” Jericho explained. “The conquests of Jason Keraunos had been slowly eaten away, leaving me as the only remaining major Storm Lord in the region. Burning Lords now rest their heads in rightful Storm Lord palaces, dragging their co—”

He paused, his tone having grown intense and furious. “Apologies, Leon. I am simply tired of having this problem. I can manage it well enough, but I would rather manage it better than that.”

“And you come to me for aid?” Leon asked.

“Of sorts,” Jericho said. “On most outer planes in my territory, my armies and fleets contend with overly ambitious Burning Lords and other such problems. Pirates, locals achieving Apotheosis and thinking they now deserve the universe, that sort of thing. I defend my own territory well, but the same cannot be said for the Storm Lords around me. I have found the fronts I’ve had to deal with increasing almost by the century. My resources are starting to stretch. This is why I approached you about trading for your storm crystal.”

“And now you want something else,” Leon remarked as he shifted into a more business-like demeanor, ready to haggle, at least as much as he was wont to do, for whatever Jericho wanted.

“I only want security,” Jericho said. “And having a stable frontier is part of that. I’m given to understand that you intend to expand into the Great Strand of Rhea soon?”

“I was thinking about that,” Leon said testily. He wondered how his plans leaked to Jericho—it didn’t take a strategic genius to understand what he intended after the conquests he’d already undertaken, but he assessed that he was a small enough Lord that no one would’ve been paying that much attention to his activities, especially since the planes he’d conquered were relative backwaters. Still, it concerned him by no small amount that Jericho was already giving voice to Leon’s next step.

“No need to play coy, Leon; everyone with half a brain knows that you want your Clan’s old territory back. And in that respect, I wish you luck. And, if you’re willing, I might be willing to offer you more than well-wishes.”

Leon took a deep breath and stroked his chin. “I appreciate specificity, Anax Jericho.”

“Then I will be specific. Ionis and Rhea are spanned by three strands. My territory lies on Ionis’s side of those strands, while Basileus Lorgos’s territory lies on Rhea’s side. I have… concerns about Lorgos; mostly that he would be willing to allow Burning Lords through his territory without a fight. I have to dedicate no small amount of resources to maintaining defenses in that direction, resources which could be put to better use elsewhere.

“So, Leon, here’s my proposal: either convince Lorgos to harden his border and prevent everyone, or at least just Burning Lords, from moving through his territory. Either that, or conquer Lorgos’s territory for yourself. Personally, I would prefer the latter option. I’ve always found Lorgos to be a rather unpredictable and mercenary neighbor, willing to sell his own mother for even a few khosrid. I would rather have a new, more dependable neighbor, one whom I might be trading with…”

Leon made a show of blinking, looking up to the ceiling, and sighing as silence stretched between them. “Going to war with a fellow Storm Lord is no small ask,” Leon said. “Let alone another Basileus.”

“You have ascended to the thirteenth-tier,” Jericho pointed out. “Lorgos would be no match for you. You would seize his territory with ease.”

“That’s easy enough to say; I’m not sure why I should bother, though. You’ve told me what you want, but haven’t offered much to make me consider it properly.”

“Hah, perhaps you and Lorgos share a mercenary attitude!” Jericho laughed and leaned back, and Leon considered being offended, but decided against it. He wanted to know what Jericho was going to offer for such a request.

“My military resources are limited since most of them have been committed to securing my frontier. But that doesn’t mean that I have nothing to offer you. If you’re willing to secure that side of my border, I would cede to you the entirety of the Strands of Maura, Tisimon, and Kwesh.”

Leon controlled himself, ensuring that he didn’t seem too interested even though he was quite surprised. Those three strands were the three that connected Rhea and Ionis, and were much denser, more heavily populated, and richer in resources than even the small strand that Leon had conquered before the Games. Jericho ‘giving’ him those strands was…

‘Generous. Assuming he even controls those strands in the first place…’

“And you hold those strands completely?” Leon asked. “I wouldn’t be stepping on any other Lords’ toes by accepting, would I?”

“Each is ruled by one of my Strategoi,” Jericho explained. “So not open for the taking, but neither would you be ‘stepping on any toes’ if you accepted the offer. I would simply transfer their vassalage to you—should you take me up on the offer, of course.”

“Yes… should I…”

Leon’s reticence was easy enough to pick up on, and Jericho said enticingly, “That is not all I can offer, though. For your cooperation, I’d also offer my acknowledgment of your claim—my support, if you will, for the future.”

“What future?” Leon asked pointedly.

“It is not just your Clan’s old territory you want, is it? You also want the throne of the Storm Lands. You want the title of Storm King back in Thunderbird hands. While you are yet too weak to try to claim it, I am of the opinion that that won’t always be the case. When you make your play, I will aid you. Even before that, I would offer you support and advice, should you ask for it.”

“Support for a crown…” Leon murmured. “That is very generous. So generous it almost sounds like an offer of fealty…”

“No Anax would ever bow to a Basileus unless forced,” Jericho hissed. “However, your bloodline was not cruel to everyone. I want to remind you of that. Jason Keraunos made me the man I am today, and I am happy with the opportunity to repay that debt. The Storm Lands have almost never been without the firm guiding hand of the Thunderbird Clan. The moment your Clan fell from power was the moment that the Storm Lands began to disintegrate. The Anakes became unruly, the Lords fought amongst themselves, and the ambitious made their own desires known. Halbast, Kamran… I spit on both of those names. Feckless cowards stood by and watched—or worse, participated—in hunting down the remainder of the Thunderbird Clan, thus depriving the Storm Lands of the only bloodline that has consistently ruled them since Khosrow’s Law was first laid down.

“Leon. I would prefer one of your bloodline to wear the crown of the Storm Kings. I would bow to no one else, for no one else has the strength to command our fellow Storm Lords. So that is what I offer: my friendship, my advice, and should you reach a point where you can challenge Halbast and Kamran, then I offer you my support and acknowledgment as the true ruler of the Storm Lands.”

Leon nodded, liking much of what he was hearing, but that didn’t make him lose sight of the price of these great things.

War with another Basileus. One who was older and well-established. Though he’d ruled as King for two hundred years, the Kingdom he’d built wasn’t yet strong enough to directly contend against someone so entrenched.

On the other hand, he didn’t know how entrenched Lorgos was—he could be quite easily dislodged for all Leon knew. Of course, that also meant that he could be incredibly well-entrenched and impossible to force into capitulation. He simply didn’t know.

“You’ve given me much to think about, Anax Jericho,” Leon eventually said.

“Then I will leave you to it, Basileus Leon.”

Jericho departed Storm Herald, but Leon remained sitting where he was. He didn’t yet return to Archelaus and Gwarim, even though he knew he could use their advice. Instead, he simply contemplated the choice he now faced: focus on Atreus or Ionis. He doubted he had the resources to do both, at least not yet. Even then, he was only one man and could only be in one place at a time, so his personal attention could only be directed in one direction.

‘The old Clan territories, or a new potential ally?’

To no small extent, he was more inclined not to help Jericho, especially since doing so involved antagonizing another Storm Lord—and a powerful one, at that. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if helping him wouldn’t be better than not—after all, his Clan’s old territory was, by all accounts he’d heard, depopulated and weak, and would likely stay that way for the foreseeable future. Aiding Jericho wouldn’t cost him in the Atreus direction, at least; those planes would still be there, ripe for the taking, when he was done with Jericho.

‘No war with a Basileus would be wrapped up quickly,’ he thought. Lorgos wasn’t the most well-landed Lord, but as far as Leon knew, he still had hundreds of planes, perhaps even as many as eight hundred. Fewer than one hundred of them were likely to have large populations, but that didn’t comfort Leon much.

He didn’t come to any conclusions yet, and he doubted he was going to before the Games ended. He knew that Jericho was going to visit Artorion soon to negotiate for storm crystal. He’d have a decision by then, at least…

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep