Given the lightlessness of the plane, it was surprisingly easy to find the meeting place: it was the one place on the entire plane that was brightly illuminated. It was a simple structure, nothing more than a stone platform built atop a shallow hill close to the center of the plane. It was surrounded by decayed ruins of whatever civilization had once lived here—piles of broken stones around the hill laid out in a roughly grid pattern. This long-dead city was dark, still, and quiet, with not a trace of life to be seen anywhere.

As he flew over it, Leon noticed long burn marks on most of the buildings, the black marks forming the familiar chaotic patterns of lightning strikes. Whatever this city once was, it had been destroyed with a liberal application of lightning magic. Little else could be discerned; the entire plane had clearly been dead for so long that even bones had disappeared.

During the descent, Leon felt the weight of his companions’ attention. The pavilion was empty, save for three seats, and in this desolate land, it was hard not to interpret that negatively.

Leon slowed to a hover about a mile away from the pavilion, and there, he said without pretense, “Give me your thoughts.” The question was mostly addressed to his five Paladins, but if any of his Tempest Knights wanted to speak up, then he’d listen.

Daryun was the first to speak. “I wouldn’t plan an ambush here. Too open. Not enough control over the area.”

“There is no place that can be controlled enough to deal with a post-Apotheosis mage,” Zhang drily stated. “I could make this place work if needed. Shrouded arks in wait, enchantments on the platform…”

Leon nodded, but disproved that there were waiting arks by conjuring a thousand bolts of lightning and bathing the area in them. He reveled in the expression of power for a moment before letting the bolts die, leaving nothing visible that hadn’t been there before.

“No hidden arks,” he said. “Though I am sensing some enchantments on that platform.”

He led them closer, his golden eyes unraveling the magical thread woven into the pavilion. The three seats were the focus of the enchantment, the centerpieces for whatever the enchantment was designed to do. And, after a moment, Leon realized what they were.

“They’re for communication.”

His statement, backed by his skill in enchanting, was enough to let his people relax, if only a little.

“We should remain on alert,” Anna said, glancing over her shoulder at the host of Tempest Knights at their back. They weren’t particularly numerous, but they were some of his stronger guards and included giants among their number.

Everyone else agreed, and accompanied by his Paladins, flew down to the platform. They remained vigilant to the point that Leon almost wanted this to be an ambush if only to justify such precautions, but in the end, nothing happened. After triple-checking it, Leon took the first of the three seats. Zhang and Daryun took positions at his shoulders, while Anna and Lana stood a bit further out, and Graniton stood at the platform’s edge. The rest of his guards stayed back a short way, hovering visibly at a respectful distance.

They didn’t have to wait long. No arks appeared overhead, nor did any great army appear braying for their blood. Instead, the communication enchantments applied to the pavilion activated, and the other two seats were filled with translucent projections of two other people. The first who appeared could only be Makarios by his extravagant appearance, while the other was someone Leon immediately recognized: Antipatra, the Basilissa who served Kamran—according to Justin, at least.

He smiled welcomingly as his two counterparts appeared, understanding in that moment that they weren’t going to be meeting ‘face-to-face’ as he’d expected. Thankfully, he didn’t even need to order it for Graniton to activate the enchantments in its shell and enact some contingencies. While Leon hadn’t expected this to happen, he had planned for it—this and many other scenarios, in fact.

A jump away, he knew that his fleets were starting to reorganize, though they wouldn’t act until this meeting was over.

“Leon Raime,” Antipatra said with such a smug smile that Leon almost left the platform on principle. “I had thought you might not show up.”

“Basilissa Antipatra. I have to admit to some curiosity; what are you doing here?” Leon kept his tone light, but his expression sharpened as he focused on the Burning Lord.

Antipatra grinned maliciously. “I am doing what anyone in the universe should do, and standing for peace and justice against tyranny.”

‘Horse shit,’ Leon thought. He weighed the option of not voicing that opinion and remaining diplomatic, but…

“Horse shit,” he said aloud, and Antipatra’s grin faltered slightly. He doubted she expected him to be so blunt. “I’m curious, but not surprised, Antipatra. Given the attitude I’ve seen towards my Clan since arriving in the Nexus, I can guess as to why you’re here.”

“By all means,” Antipatra invited.

Leon smirked, but instead of answering her, he turned to Makarios, who was sitting completely straight in his seat, like a junior before a senior he couldn’t afford to offend.

“I pride myself on being generous to those who surrender,” he said. “Forsake thatone sitting beside you, and you’ll live through this. You’ll keep your cluster with the title of Stellarch, and be afforded my protection in all things.”

He snuck a glance at Antipatra, but instead of the anger at being ignored and slighted, he saw her lean back and wait in obvious anticipation.

“You ask for my surrender,” Makarios said in lightly-accented Nexus common. “I ask you to leave. No one wants you here. The Halorian Cluster is not for you or your kind to rule.”

“Those with Inherited Bloo—” Leon began, but Makarios jumped back in, interrupting him.

“That’s not what I meant. I meant your kind! The kind that subjugated the Storm Lands ages ago! The kind that slaughtered the innocent and inflicted countless depravities upon everyone they wished! The Thunderbirds are a bloodline that should have been eradicated long ago! The reason why is all around you!”

Leon cocked an eyebrow, looking around the platform for a moment, expecting something to have appeared. Instead, his eyes scanned the ruins around the hill, the broken remnants of homes, of places that once held joy but now held nothing at all.

“We know what Thunderbird ‘generosity’ means,” Antipatra hissed. “Know this, ‘King’: I have taken Strategos Makarios here as my vassal. If you attack him, then you attack me. And you will find no mere maiden in me, no arrogant Phoenix to cross talons with…”

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“What did you mean?” Leon asked Makarios, ignoring Antipatra entirely. “You believe all of this is the work of the Thunderbird Clan?”

“Without doubt,” Makarios stated. “This was once a plane of light and beauty. But your Clan couldn’t stand the idea of something beautiful that didn’t belong to them, and invaded. The people here fought back hard, and for their troubles, they were destroyed—this plane was razed and had its sun obliterated, that no civilization might ever rise here again. The survivors, few that they were, were put in chains and ended their days as property of the savages that sacked and destroyed their homes. Their plane was rendered lifeless for ‘defying the Storm King, Patriarch of the Thunderbird Clan.’ In invading my planes so brazenly and casting away your followers so callously, I know that you are, without a doubt, a scion of that cursed bloodline.”

Leon’s smile thinned more with every word the man spoke. He was no stranger to the depravities of his ancient Clan, not after carting Nestor around in his soul realm for no short amount of time. His own disagreements with the way his ancestors had ruled those they conquered were something he’d thought he’d reckoned with long ago, but as his eyes continued drifting over the broken city, he wondered how much of that was true and how much of it was mere wish fulfillment.

“Turn away, Leon Raime,” Makarios insisted. “My people are not interested in bowing to you. We reject you, as is our right as free men. And personally, I would sooner die than acknowledge you as my sovereign. Begone from my Voidspace and never return.”

Leon took a long breath, steadying himself. As much as he knew that many criticisms about his ancient Clan were true, he rejected the idea that they applied to him, not to mention that he simply didn’t like hearing such things about his Ancestors. “I see this invitation to speak was made only to shout at me. How disappointing.”

It certainly made sense to him now why Antipatra and Makarios hadn’t shown up in person. Leon had enough self-control not to attack them for a few insults, but having Makarios so resolutely abandon any thought of surrender was something that he might’ve considered attacking them over.

On the other hand, he didn’t arrive thinking that peace was a serious option, anyway. After the loss of Menander and so much of his fleet, signing peace would not have been popular among his people. They would follow him if he demanded it, but it would lead to resentment, especially among the Lions, that might crack the foundation of support that held up his Kingdom.

“I’d hoped you might see reason,” Antipatra said with a provocative smile that didn’t match her almost motherly tone. “Let you see what your Clan has wrought and perhaps show a bit of wisdom that your forebears lacked. Your Clan has been nothing but a blight upon this universe, and if you’re a truly great King, you’d recognize that and turn away from the path you’ve embarked upon.”

‘Rich, coming from a Khosrow supporter.’ Leon didn’t call her on that; he could tell she was already aware of her own hypocrisy and reveled in it if the grin she wore was anything to go by.

“My Clan ruled these planes long ago,” Leon said. “I intend to restore my Clan to those heights of glory. I welcome all who want to be part of it. I’ll destroy all who stand in my way. You two seem to have made your choice as to where you stand.”

Antipatra and Makarios shared a look, and when they turned back to Leon, Makarios said, “We have. Your Clan is dead. You will soon die. No dead man can rule these planes.”

“But feel free to launch your assault,” Antipatra said. “I look forward to killing another of your cursed ilk—it has been so long since I’ve had the pleasure…” She grinned wolfishly at Leon before her projection flickered and vanished.

Leon, thoroughly dissatisfied with how the meeting had gone—though unsurprised and a little relieved nothing had come of it, if he were honest—rose from his seat, only to pause when he noticed Makarios wasn’t moving, nor was his projection cutting out.

“Was it genuine?” he asked, his defiant tone as gone as Antipatra. “Your offer of vassalage?”

Leon’s heart sank as quickly as his intrigue rose. “It was.”

Makarios glanced at Antipatra’s empty seat before his eyes turned back to Leon. “If a man wanted to know more, what would you say?”

Leon slowly sank back into his seat. “That would depend on the man.”

Makarios’ expression didn’t so much as twitch. Though he’d spoken his own words carefully, it seemed he wanted Leon to be straighter with his.

It was a bit annoying, but Leon didn’t have any great problem with that attitude, so he explained, “Any man with no grievance with me can surrender and be welcomed. Those who have expressed their antipathy towards me would be subject to extra consideration, while those who have actively fought against me… accepting them would be complicated¸ but workable, depending on negotiations.”

Leon leaned forward, his shimmering golden eyes locking with Makarios’ brown orbs. “Are you thinking of beginning those negotiations, Makarios?”

The eleventh-tier mage stroked his hairless chin for several long seconds, but his eyes never left Leon’s.

“I… am, yes…”

Grinning once again, Leon sat back and said, “The loss inflicted upon my people has to be avenged. Someone must be punished for it.”

“And that someone is…?” Makarios asked leadingly.

Leon’s eyes flickered to Antipatra’s seat. “If you’re serious about this, then Antipatra can be the one punished. You would also have to surrender. Publicly. But after that, I would allow you to be the Stellarch of these planes. Tribute and taxes would both be expected, though not so much as to break your people in the slightest. However…”

Leon leaned forward again, and his eyes fixed onto Makarios so completely that he almost believed he was about to see through the man.

“That’s quite the change of heart compared to just a moment ago.”

Makarios’ answer was as simple as it was understandable. “Antipatra was here just a moment ago.” He sighed and idly scratched his head. Leon could sense there was more he wanted to say, but he needed a moment to get around to actually saying it, so he remained quiet.

Finally, Makarios continued, “I wouldn’t have stood against your fleets without Antipatra forcing me to. If I desired conflict, I would have built a Kingdom for myself in the Nexus. I’d rather that I and my people just be left alone.”

“Keep the peace and give tribute, and I won’t trouble you,” Leon said. “And for that peace and tribute, you would fall under my shield, protected by my word and power.”

Makarios’ hand again went to his chin, his eyes unfocusing as he lost himself in thought.

“Some… among my people… would need convincing…” he said hesitantly. “They might not accept any surrender so easily…”

“You killed many of my people,” Leon said more matter-of-factly than he’d have been capable of days ago. “Vengeance is demanded. A display of sincerity that fulfills that demand would go far to seeing you accepted…”

Makarios opened his mouth to say something, but then he turned away from Leon, looking instead to someone Leon couldn’t see. After a moment of silent communication, he glanced Leon’s way for a moment before his projection flickered away, ending their conversation there.

The silence on that hill in the wake of Makarios’ departure was almost deafening. The meeting certainly hadn’t played out as anyone in his entourage had expected, and everyone needed a moment to process.

“He’s lying,” Daryun said. “No one can trust a traitor.”

“Our King is persuasive and powerful,” Lana countered. “Powerful enough to make that man rethink his position.”

“He defeated Menander’s fleet,” Zhang stated. “I’d imagine he would be feeling bold after that, not in a surrendering mood.”

“He’s not trustworthy,” Anna said directly. “Use him only as far as we must.”

“Many fell against him,” Graniton rumbled metallically. “Should his bones not be offered to them to ease their rest?”

“Surrendering ought to be encouraged,” Lana insisted. “We shouldn’t demand that our enemies stand and fight, or else they’ll fight all the harder. Give them a route to live, and many will take it.”

“And, in this case, anger the Lions,” Daryun succinctly said.

As their debate continued, Leon felt his comm slate flare with power. He didn’t even need to touch it before he felt his connection with Maia strengthen through it.

[There’s movement in the outskirts of that cluster,] she told him. [Anshu asks that you return soon.]

Leon shot to his feet, sending a reassuring feeling back to his river nymph wife.

“We’re leaving,” he said. He took off from the platform and rocketed into the sky, rushing back to Storm Herald. His people followed close behind, his Tempest Knights falling in behind his Paladins.

As he flew, he asked Maia, [What sort of movement?]

[Arks. They’re gathering. Some look battle-ready.]

After Antipatra left, Leon would’ve definitively guessed that she was preparing to attack him. After listening to Makarios’ sudden change of heart, however, he wondered if this wasn’t something else, something that he might be able to exploit…

Either way, the time for talk was done. It was more productive than he’d expected, and if nothing else, he’d confirmed the identity of his enemies—and just by virtue of Antipatra’s identity, the likely reason she was involved. However, it was time for war. That was why his people had joined him in such great numbers. They demanded blood, and one way or another, that was what he was going to deliver to them.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep