Staring down at Asuwiya, Anzu waited. Minutes remained of the day-long deadline he’d given the League, and in that time, he’d monitored the plane closely. Assuwa, in particular, was bathed in his magic senses. He saw several of the representatives within the Assembly chamber leave, their departure relatively staggered. He watched closely as these representatives all but fled from the plane, giving the arks that choked the skies a wide berth before fleeing into the Void.

“Another one,” he whispered to Floats-on-Wind.

“Log it,” the Admiral’s gaze hardened, and he spoke in a low growl to a nearby adjutant. “That makes five.”

“That we’ve seen so far,” Anzu said with an eager gleam in his red eyes. “The question remains whether or not those represent full planes, or only partial planes.”

“We’re soon to see. Most are still on Asuwiya.”

Anzu nodded, and with a confident smile, he said, “I’ll head down now. Five more minutes or ten, it hardly matters at this point. I want that answer. Divide the fleets while I’m gone. Keep the bulk here, but once I send word, send smaller detachments to follow those arks we’ve seen run.”

“It will be done,” Floats-on-Wind said, and with that, Anzu turned from the projected window and made for a transport ark. It was time to hear the answer that the League’s leaders would give him.

—

The delegation approached, their every footstep sending a cold chill racing through his blood. He was doing the right thing; he knew that, but no man likes being called a coward. Worse than that, he feared being labeled a hypocrite, or at least fickle and untrustworthy.

He’d served the Thunderbird Clan honorably and faithfully for many years. He knew the old punishments for allowing enemies to escape. If Paladin Anzu decided that those men and women that he allowed to leave the Assembly were enemies, and that Prios was responsible for their escape…

Terror settled in his stomach like a rock, but he ignored it as best he could. So long spent as the de facto leader of the Asuwiyan League had given him no small amount of self-control.

Anzu’s heavy footsteps came ever closer. Prios could almost feel every step through the ground, though he was no earth mage. This was it, the moment of judgment, the decision that would determine the fate of his League. His entire life was on the line, everything that he’d ever worked for. Being executed would be less of a punishment in his mind than having the League dissolved.

‘I did not spend the past fifty thousand years preparing the table for someone else’s meal…’

Despite the fire in his words, his heart jumped into his throat as the chamber doors opened and Anzu marched in like he was on a parade field. His eyes were devoid of warmth, and even the smile on his face was thin and performative at best. He stared intently at Prios, approaching to within two paces before he halted.

“Well?” he asked. “I gave you a day. Now, I expect an answer. Will you join with King Leon, or will you not?”

A simple question, one that demanded a simple answer. Prios almost made it more complicated than it had to be, ready to argue nuances and render the excuses he’d been thinking about ever since Zorus stormed out of the chamber, vowing to resist the Thunderbird Clan to his dying breath. Instead, he took a deep breath, glanced around the room to gain a bit of strength from the watching representatives, and gave Anzu his answer.

“Everyone here will swear themselves and the people they represent to King Leon. We do not want war, and so long as he keeps to his offer, we will be his willing vassals.”

Anzu’s smile shifted to something a little more genuine, but he didn’t jump for joy or otherwise show any sign of pleasure at the statement.

“‘Everyone here’…” he whispered, and another shot of ice hit Prios’ bloodstream. The albino began to pace around, his eyes glittering like the blood diamonds from the Xeskizo gap, surveying the pale faces that filled the chamber.

One day ago, one hundred and fifty-six representatives had ‘welcomed’ him to Assuwa. One hundred and forty-two remained.

When Anzu’s gaze fell upon Prios again, he felt the weight of it even though they were the same tier. Expectation and accusation were weightier than magic, something that Prios had thought he knew, but found himself lacking now.

“Where are the others?”

“They… decided not to swear themselves to your King.” Prios spoke clearly despite his fear of what might come. His voice was steady, unwavering as he told Anzu what happened. “There was much arguing, and when tempers flared, some left. The entire Asuwiyan League is represented here. Those who left were, by unanimous consent of all other members, struck from the League.”

A soft, almost derisive, snort was exhaled from Anzu’s nose.

“You decided to swear yourselves to my brother, but before you did, you allowed his enemies to leave. I find that… interesting

.”

“I built this League through the strength of my arms and the strength of my steel. But it would not have been nearly so successful had it not been for those who joined me. I could not force their descendants to stay. I owe their Ancestors too much to simply hand them over. This is why I allowed them to leave this chamber.”

Prios was careful; he didn’t want the other representatives to catch Paladin Anzu’s fury, despite the decision to allow those who dissented to leave being just as unanimous as kicking them out of the League had been. As the strongest mage in the League and its unofficial leader, Prios thought it only natural that he take full responsibility for this, if for no other reason than to spare his friends and colleagues of many years.

Anzu’s eyes bored into him like a greedy earth mage parting stone after finding a seam of gold. No sword or spear that Prios ever faced had ever felt so penetrating.

But just as Anzu’s aura was heavy, so too was the combined weight of the one hundred and forty-two other representatives of the League. Prios held his ground and waited for his judgment.

He waited longer than he expected, until he noticed Anzu’s eyes flickering slightly, his aura flexing in such a way as to indicate the use of magic senses. The albino was looking at the other representatives in the chamber, and they were looking back at him, their gazes betraying their fear and quiet judgment more than Prios’ did.

When Anzu’s eyes settled on Prios again, he simply said, “An issue to be rectified later. For now…” A burst of light and magic saw a slate of black glass appear in his hand, a glowing flower petal set within and barely visible. A few activated runes on the surface had the slate shine to Prios’ magic senses, and from it, a voice emanated, one that Prios didn’t recognize.

“Paladin Anzu. Waiting for your orders.”

A lump formed in Prios’ throat, and the fraction of a second it took Anzu to respond felt like an eternity.

“Admiral Floats-on-Wind. The Asuwiyan League has decided to swear itself to our King. Those who left are now considered rebels and will have to be compelled with more than words to join. What we discussed before I left… begin.”

“By your word, Paladin.”

Anzu shut off the slate, and a pallid silence fell over the chamber for what felt like an eternity and a half. Anzu himself looked like he was considering something, and it wasn’t long before he let the entire chamber know what was on his mind.

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“I’ll expect full cooperation from all of you as we bring these unruly elements into line. King Leon will allow your League to continue to exist, as he is a man of his word, but only so long as you fulfill your obligations as his vassals. And one of those obligations is seeing to common security. I’m tempted to employ your various armed forces in their auxiliary role, but I’ve decided that merely supporting my fleet will be enough.”

Prios sighed quietly. Not being asked to kill those who were, less than a day ago, their brothers, fellow members of the League, was, he supposed, better than he could hope for. His head might still be parted from his neck, but not this day, at least.

—

Anzu stared at the arks burning above the plane’s terminus line. Even after a week, it was, in a way, difficult to fathom that anyone would believe they had a chance against the Task Forces that his brother had built. Their power was immense, greater, he figured, than any other Basileus in the Nexus. If that weren’t the case, then Leon wouldn’t have had an Anax asking for his help.

The rebels from the Asuwiyan League were spread across five planes. Some of those planes had members who were still loyal, and a few of them were eager to help him get rid of their rebellious neighbors. Anzu allowed them to fight alongside him, as while he wasn’t going to order it, if they wanted to fight, then he wouldn’t deny them a chance at glory or to prove themselves.

Besides, even after a fleet arrived to help garrison this place, the Asuwiyan League was spread across several planar clusters. For years, perhaps even centuries, the cooperation of the locals was going to be needed to keep the peace. Using some of the new auxiliaries would, hopefully, prepare them for that role.

Beyond the terminus lines, however, Anzu’s arks had been fighting alone. Most of the enemy arks had hardly been much of a threat. Much had been learned during all the conflicts since Leon led them to the Nexus, and the new arks were powerful in the Void. The arks used by the Asuwiyan League were inferior in just about every conceivable way.

It was no surprise, then, that the skies above the rebel planes were growing crowded from all the debris. They might’ve stood a better chance if Anzu had given them the time they needed to gather and join forces, but Anzu and Floats-on-Wind had moved with alacrity, striking like lightning every one of the rebel planes.

“Move on that one quickly,” Anzu pointed to the largest of the rebel arks, one that looked roughly akin to a heavy cruiser. As the fires that raged within it shot into the Void from a hundred different holes punched into its hull, the ark spun and slowly fell, threatening the heavily-urbanized plane below. “It looks like it’s going to fall. I’d rather not let that happen.”

“We already have golems moving in,” one of his adjutants said. “They’ll stabilize it and keep it from falling.”

Anzu nodded, muttering to himself, “The salvagers are going to have their work cut out for them…”

As if choosing that moment specifically to mock him, a heavily damaged ark came tearing out of a teleportation portal—one of Task Force Kyros’ arks, and one that had been sent after Zorus, the most belligerent, if not the strongest, of the rebels. It leaked magic quite fiercely, according to Anzu’s magic senses, while all but one of its thrusters looked non-operational.

Anzu knew that the battle over this plane was over, so without hesitation, he sprang into action.

“Connect me to that ark! Prepare all but Fourth Wing to jump to… what was the name of the cluster that ark’s Wing was sent to?”

“Horizon Bolt was sent to Orchomenus Cluster,” Admiral Floats-on-Wind said, his voice emanating from a small wisp on the arm of Anzu’s command throne. The wisp was assigned to White Feather’s communication suite, along with dozens of others, and through it, a constant connection was kept between Anzu and Floats-on-Wind, along with several other senior commanders. “Under Commodore Noros.”

“Orchomenus,” Anzu murmured. That planar cluster held eight planes. Five of them were loyal to the League, but three weren’t—those three were ruled by three Kings: Zorus, Imbros, and Elaeus.

Runes on command consoles glowed, officers leaned back to let their heads press against cloud glass, and Anzu turned his attention to White Feather’s comm station.

“Horizon Bolt is hailing us!” the senior-most comms officer shouted.

“Project it!” Anzu responded. Throughout all of this, Horizon Bolt hadn’t slowed and instead, pushed on toward White Feather, passing several other arks in the Task Force as it did.

When a connection was established, and the image of the other ark’s bridge was projected before Anzu, he stared in abject shock at what he saw. Kings Zorus, Imbros, and Elaeus all stood on the bridge, battered and bloody. The consoles around them were blood-soaked, and Anzu could barely make out bodies scattered around the bridge, almost out of frame. At almost the exact same time as the image solidified, a dozen other teleportation portals opened up, and as many arks came screaming out into the Void, all in awful shape.

“Look upon us,” Zorus declared, his voice echoing through Anzu’s bridge. “Though the fight is hopeless, we fight on. This is what it means to be a man! WE WILL NOT SURRENDER TO YOU!” He raised his arms, the spear in his hand gleaming through the blood, his battered armor still catching the light just right to gleam in time with his declaration.

“Either we kill you,” Elaeus said, his voice soft and ill-suited for his rugged looks, “or we become the spark that ignites our people’s independence. Prepare yourself, pallid corpse: we will make you bleed before the day is done!”

“I shall feast on your heart and feed your entrails to my dogs,” Imbros viciously declared. “Your fleet couldn’t stop us, and now you’ll know our wrath!” With that, the comm projection shut off, leaving Horizon Bolt and the Kings within it silent. Of the crew, Anzu couldn’t say. It didn’t seem like there were many left if these three were on the ark’s bridge.

Horizon Bolt accelerated dangerously, its single thruster nearly breaking the superstructure in half. It almost looked like…

“Shoot that ark!” Anzu shouted. “Every Lance! Every cannon! Turn that ark into dust!”

The other arks turned as if in slow motion, but a few ventral Lances were in position to fire immediately, which they did with enthusiasm. Bolts, glowing gold with lightning magic, shot through Voidspace. Few other arks had clean firing solutions on Horizon Bolt, but of those that did, all fired on the charging ark.

The other dozen arks that had followed Horizon Bolt started making nuisances of themselves as Horizon Bolt left them behind. Their underpowered weaponry flashed in the dark, promising damage if any of Anzu’s arks got too close.

They weren’t going to get too close, however. Fighters, Ulta suits, and golems were already harassing them, but the larger war arks were not eye-to-eye brawlers. More Lances and even a few destroyer cannons opened up on the enemy fleet, and for a moment, the Void saw the birth of new stars.

But Anzu couldn’t focus on that for long as Horizon Bolt flashed through his fleet’s formation. It had been allowed to come too close, and now his other arks couldn’t hit it without risking hitting each other. It bore down on White Feather hard. Its weapons were apparently disabled, but Anzu knew that the ark itself was now a weapon.

They wanted to ram White Feather.

What few Lances could get clean shots off peppered Horizon Bolt, and White Feather ponderously turned to face it, presenting as small a target as possible.

“Reverse!” the ark captain shouted. Normally, Anzu might have been angry that he was being bypassed, but in this case, he allowed the captain he’d practically usurped this dreadnought from to make his play.

White Feather’s engines thrummed, the magic reaching Anzu feeling almost tingly as White Feather backed away from the charging Horizon Bolt. Horizon Bolt was still gaining on them, but should they collide, the damage would be minimized.

Horizon Bolt was a light cruiser, well-armed and armored, but not nearly a match for the heavy cruiser that shot out from the side and pulled up alongside it. Flying parallel to the face of the plane below them, this heavy cruiser was able to give Horizon Bolt a heavy broadside. Horizon Bolt faltered at its thrusters finally died, but its momentum kept it going even as Lance fire from White Feather and the heavy cruiser sheared the ark in half. Hundreds of warriors spilled into the black alongside countless corpses, reinforcing Anzu’s belief that none of the ark’s crew were still among the living.

Finally, as half of the other newly-arrived arks exploded, the heavy cruiser simply swung around into Horizon Bolt’s flank, slamming its nose into the size of the front half of the captured ark. Metal shattered and magic exploded; the remains of Horizon Bolt went crashing down toward the plane, while the heavy cruiser pulled out of the fall, its prow damaged but not breached.

‘Looks like Leon’s idea about ramming was taken seriously,’ Anzu thought as he relaxed into his command throne, this one threat now apparently dealt with as the remains of Horizon Bolt fell past the ark’s terminus line. Its damage would keep it from ever breaching the terminus line again, even if it hadn’t been cut in half.

Meanwhile, more arks appeared out of the Void: additional arks from Horizon Bolt’s Wing. Anzu almost ordered them fired upon immediately, but when they opened up on the remaining six enemy arks and turned them into a cloud of metal and blood, it was made clear whose side they were on. It seemed that despite Horizon Bolt’s capture, Commodore Noros’ Wing hadn’t been defeated, and had sent arks in pursuit of the fleeing rebels.

Finally, Anzu relaxed entirely. This suicidal run had been a surprise, but Task Force Kyros kept its head and dealt with the threat. Anzu smiled as the operations to deal with the paltry few remaining rebels continued, along with finding the bodies of those Kings—assuming they weren’t completely destroyed when the front half of Horizon Bolt bit the earth far below.

It had gone quickly—unsurprising given the force at Anzu’s disposal—and with only a few more days, he was sure the entire Asuwiyan League, not just most of the Asuwiyan League, would belong to Leon.

In the end, he was proven incorrect. He only needed hours to defeat the remaining rebels.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep