Chapter 665: Roots and Weeds

Leon and Valeria stood there, neither speaking, as they processed what the message had just said. Nestor, however, was beyond furious, and he raged in Leon’s soul realm.

[Pindar…] he’d started with, a simple muttering that was laced with more hatred than Leon thought he’d ever heard from the dead man. [That ambitious little shit… he finally turned traitor! MY FATHER SHOULD HAVE TAKEN HIS HEAD AFTER HIS FIRST FAILED REBELLION! HIS HEAD SHOULD’VE BEEN MOUNTED ATOP THE WALLS OF THE STORMFORT AND HIS CORPSE FED TO SERPENTS! THAT GUTTER-LICKING BASTARD’S POXY WHORE OF A MOTHER SHOULD’VE LEFT HIM AS A STAIN ON HER MATTRESS!]

Leon had a relatively hard time processing everything that the messenger had said with Nestor ranting in his mind, and the dead man went on for a while, only stopping when Leon finally shouted, [Enough!]

Nestor went silent, but Leon could almost feel the dead man’s ruby shaking with fury.

Not privy to what was going on in Leon’s soul realm, Valeria said, “Well… that was something, wasn’t it? I guess all of that means something, but I can’t quite make sense of it. Your Clan had a bit of a civil war when your Ancestors were killed, then?”

“Looks like it,” Leon whispered. “Who was this Pindar, though? Nestor? You had some thoughts on the subject, it seemed?”

Nestor answered, his voice dripping with contempt and anger, [Pinder was a man who ascended from the lower planes. He was a brutal user of lightning magic, and he thought that since he’d achieved Apotheosis that he was untouchable. When he arrived in the Storm Lands after reaching the Nexus, he immediately tried to usurp the closest Strategos and establish himself as an independent ruler. Such an occurrence wasn’t too uncommon back in my father’s time, with ambitious hicks rising from their worthless backwaters and thinking that made them entitled to power, and my father took a very hard line with them.

[The Strategos that Pindar attempted to usurp was one of my father’s direct vassals—even if he wasn’t, my father and all other legitimate rulers in the Storm Lands would’ve been obligated to defend this Strategos in accordance with Khosrow’s Law. Pindar almost managed to succeed, but when my father arrived, that little shitstain was stomped into the ground. He resisted well enough, however, that my father offered to take him into his service.

[Pindar agreed, and was granted lands of his own under my father’s direct supervision. With my father’s patronage, Pindar reached the rank of Basileus, but he repaid my father by scheming against him, attempting to ally with several other Basileis under the Gale King to support his bid for independence. My father found out, and stripped Pinder of all rank, and once more personally stomped him into the ground, where the bastard belonged.

[But my father showed him mercy. I don’t know why, if it was my father finding amusement in the man’s failures or something else of the sort, but he didn’t execute Pindar. Instead, Pindar was brought to live with my father as one of his personal agents, without title or land—living not unlike my father’s pet. It seems that after my father’s death, Pindar once more took to his rebellious ways…]

Leon relayed all of that as best as he could to Valeria.

“Sounds like there were some complicated politics at play,” she stated. “What was this ‘Alliance’ that the projection spoke of?”

“I’m unsure…” Leon replied, and, after using his magic senses to make sure that no one noticed the first time the message played, he reached out his magic, activating the message enchantment again. Fortunately, it wasn’t broken after only playing once, and began to play once more. Leon, Valeria, and Nestor listened in silence.

By the end of it, Leon had pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen and scrawled the messenger’s words down so that he would have a permanent record of the message’s contents.

When that was finished, he looked back to Valeria and said, “Nestor was obviously dead by that time, so I can only guess at this, but I think I’ve got something of a picture of how all of this went.”

“Lay it on me,” Valeria replied.

“I think that this ‘Alliance’ was probably the survivors of Jason Keraunos’ death at the hands of the Grave Warden. It seems that he made an assault on the Grave Warden, and his entire force, including most of his children, were slaughtered. At first, Prince Demetrios was the man whom everyone tried to rally behind, but with Demetrios’ apparent disappearance, the rest were forced into some kind of mutually beneficial alliance to try and maintain some kind of peace.”

“That clearly didn’t last long,” Valeria quipped. “Seems like it fell apart fairly quickly.”

“That’s hard to say for certain, not like we got an accurate timetable,” Leon pointed out, and Valeria shrugged in concession. “If I had to say anything, I’d guess that you’re right, though. This ‘Pindar’ attempted to use his power and influence to usurp the authority of the alliance, to take over for Jason Keraunos without someone else to carry on the Thunderbird’s legacy. And it seems that there was some pushback, as with Lord Alepo. We know that Pindar killed Alepo, but after that…”

“Who was this ‘Koukouva’?” Valeria asked.

Without waiting for Leon to relay the question, Nestor answered, [He was another vassal of my father, and another Ascended Beast. His true form was that of a giant owl, and he had been given authority over much of what is now the Ilian Empire, directly to the north of Alepo’s land. Last I was aware, he ranked as a Basileus.]

Leon passed on that explanation, and then added himself, “… and the message said that Koukouva took over the arsenal. If I remember what you told me, Nestor, then that meant that most of the Clan’s arks that were capable of traveling between planes had fallen into his hands.”

[Along with any of our weapons that my father didn’t bring to the confrontation with the Grave Warden,] Nestor whispered, his rage now seemingly cooled.

“They didn’t stay, though, they intended to evacuate,” Valeria pointed out.

Leon nodded as a scowl spread across his face. “So it would seem. Which would be a shame, because if memory serves, Occulara was where the arsenal was located. I was hoping that it hadn’t been discovered and that there may have been something there to find. If this message’s claims are correct, though, and Koukouva managed to retreat, then it’s entirely possible that there’s nothing there remaining. Were I in Koukouva’s shoes, I would fill every ark I could with survivors and destroy anything that I couldn’t take with me.”

“Where would that leave Pindar, then?” Valeria wondered.

“That would depend on whoever remained, I guess,” Leon said. “I don’t think any of us can say without knowing more of the aftermath of Jason Keraunos’ death. I think the fact that the Four Empires are here and not a single unified polity can allow us an inference, though. I think that Pindar probably didn’t last long as a leader, and that the natives of this plane might’ve managed to kill him, somehow. Or maybe there were enough remnants of my Clan left behind that his rule was challenged enough to fall apart. Or maybe he had arks of his own and he managed to evacuate—but he was post-Apotheosis, so I don’t think he would’ve been confined to this plane even if he didn’t. No matter what happened, it seems that this instability was enough to let the Aeternan natives reassert control over the plane…”

Leon trailed off a bit, but a possibility emerged in his mind. He’d only heard them mentioned a few times and had never truly sought out information on them, but he started having some specific wonderings about the ‘Sky Devils’, who supposedly lived in the far southeast, practically on the other side of the plane as the Bull Kingdom. From the way that it sounded on those few times that he’d heard of them, they were in conflict with the Four Empires, and combined with their name, made him suspect who—or what—they were supposed to be.

But there were no answers to those questions to be had here, so Leon made a mental note to look into the Sky Devils, and moved on.

Glancing back down at his scribbled record of the message, he activated it one more time to have a listen. When it was over, he asked Nestor, “What’s ‘Tiryns’?”

[Tiryns was a fortress plane,] Nestor replied. [To be powerful in the Nexus alone is a difficult thing since it destroys itself every hundred thousand years. There has to be static, more permanent roots for a Clan such as ours to form, which necessitates the acquisition of lower planes, by conquest or other means. Throughout our history, our Clan subjugated so many planes and brought so many others into its sphere of influence, that we were able to specialize many of them for certain purposes.]

“So things like devoting one to farming, another to the production of military equipment, that sort of thing?” Leon asked.

[In a sense, yes,] Nestor replied. [No plane can be completely specialized in that respect since the cost of transporting food and materials can be prohibitive, but there are certain things we had the luxury of doing with the multitude of planes under our control. Pylos was our biggest arkyard, we grew and refined many of our most potent alchemical materials on Arcadia, and we trained and stationed our largest armies outside of the Nexus on Proteus, Electryon, and Argolis. Nemea, Ladon, and Everes were entire planes set aside as hunting preserves, with all of humanity banned from setting foot upon them without the express approval of a Clan member of high rank.

[For our Clan, we had many planes devoted to our support and pleasure. Palace complexes that spanned continents, academies the size of cities, whole planes whose produce supported us, so that our personal lands could remain unspoiled by the hand of man. Such was our power that the wealth of countless planes was sent to us as taxes or in tribute…]

As Nestor spoke, he largely spoke fairly neutrally, but Leon could pick up on some of his growing enthusiasm as he spoke of the glories of their Clan at its peak. But then he paused for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was tinged with such nostalgia, longing, and wistfulness that Leon didn’t once think to mock the dead man for becoming almost poetic.

[But for all those planes in our possession, three stood out even amongst the glittering palaces, golden fields, and stout fortresses: Mighty Tiryns; Radiant Kypros; and Minos, the Subject of All Desire. Enviable Minos was the personal property of whomever held the title of ‘Storm King’ and was a palace-plane that was fit for such majesty. At any one time, thousands of arks would be making their way to Far-Ruling Minos, each bearing a mountain of wealth to be used at our Clan’s leisure.

[Golden Kypros was a plane of such natural wealth that it could only be managed by one of the most powerful and respected members of our Clan, with oceans of Titanstone beneath its soil, gold and silver in spectacular quantities, and jewels beyond counting. It was at Brilliant Kypros that we refined most of our stock of our most valuable materials: Adamant, Titanstone, Lumenite, and Aurichalcum. Shining Kypros didn’t power our Clan alone, but its importance to our Clan cannot be overstated.

[And finally, we get to Thunderous Tiryns, a fortress-plane of such strength that it was common sense to think of it as indestructible. The strength of Invincible Tiryns was so great and so well-known that it became the ideal to which all other fortifications were compared.]

Nestor finally stopped long enough for Leon to repeat as much of what he just said to Valeria as he could, though he skipped most of the flowery language.

When Leon was finished with his explanation, Nestor said, [These three planes, and Tiryns in particular, were the backbone of our Clan. Minos was our pride and joy, but our Storm Kings mostly ruled from the Nexus, leaving it as the symbolic capital of our Clan, the site of our biggest treasury, and little more. The wealth of Kypros made us mighty beyond compare, but it was not our sole source of wealth, and we could’ve lived without it if we absolutely had to—though we fought frequently and fiercely to ensure we would never have to.

[But Tiryns was the greatest shield that ensured what was ours, remained ours. The strength of our enemies didn’t matter, and even our own strength didn’t matter, for as long as Tiryns remained in our control, then no matter how much our power might wane in a given generation, it would never vanish completely. Tiryns, more than any other plane, guaranteed our power. And for Lord Koukouva to retreat there is only natural. Minos and Kypros were off-limits to him, and the Clan would need to know of my father’s death as soon as possible. Even more importantly, we would’ve had to fortify ourselves against the onslaught of our enemies as soon as we could, else all would be lost, for losing my father and all of our mightiest warriors on this plane, not to mention the loss of the Iron Needle, would leave us in such a weakened position that keeping Tiryns stable and under our control would’ve been utterly crucial to our survival.]

Leon quietly nodded, and then quietly said, “It would seem that our Clan fell anyway. Tiryns must’ve fallen, or we must’ve lost it, somehow.”

Nestor sighed with such regret and loss that Leon almost shrank down an inch or two in empathetic dejection.

[There’s nothing I want more than a proper accounting of the fall of our Clan,] Nestor quietly stated. [If I had to choose between that, or getting my body back, I would choose to give up on my body forever.]

“A strong statement,” Leon remarked.

[Indeed, and one that I think its warranted,] Nestor replied. [Our Clan should not have fallen, Leon. It simply should not have been possible, even with the loss of my father! We were too strong, too well-fortified, too damned wealthy for this to have happened to us! For you to be the last of our Clan is a sin beyond compare! With the strength of Tiryns, with the wealth of Kypros, with the power of Minos, and with the might of all the rest of our planes, it should not have been possible for us to fall!

[And I have to know why, and how!]

“So do I,” Leon said, his golden eyes narrowing in grim determination. “And I think I know where we might be able to start…”

—

Leon and Valeria quickly wrapped things up in the message room. They watched the message one last time, Leon ensured that his record was accurate, and then they returned to the library’s main hall.

There, they found Claudia standing by the doors, quietly chatting with Dame Maxima and several other of Princess Cristina’s knightesses. The Princess herself was exploring the library with Asiya and Elise, while Maia was sitting on the edge of a balcony on the second floor, staring out at the hall with a contemplative look.

Leon approached Claudia with Valeria by his side.

“Leon,” Claudia said in polite greeting, and Maxima gave him a respectful nod.

“Claudia,” Leon responded with a good-natured smile. “I have to say, this place has been preserved magnificently, given its age. I would’ve thought that something eighty-thousand years old would’ve been in much worse condition…”

“It would probably not be too different from the rest of ruins around here,” Claudia sadly mused. “Buried, with little more than a few scattered piles of bricks poking out of the dirt.”

“A shame,” Leon commiserated. “But even what’s here is still extremely impressive. I have to admit to having some strong curiosity about the people who lived here. I know that you said that the contemporary sources of this period are unreliable, but does that mean that there’s no real information to be had?”

“Of course not,” Claudia said, almost aghast at Leon’s inquiry. “We have plenty of strong evidence of who these people were just based on the art that we’ve managed to preserve. But what stories they told themselves, their thoughts and much of their culture, have been lost to time, I’m afraid. And those stories that we still have of that time have all largely been mythologized. There’s probably some truth to them in there somewhere, but we don’t quite know enough to say what’s fact and what’s fiction. This is why I say that our sources are unreliable—myths and folk stories don’t make for compelling evidence, especially since it seems many of the people making those myths were quite biased in their storytelling.”

“But those myths can still be enlightening,” Leon pointed out. “Maybe there’s not much academic value to those stories, but I would appreciate if you could share some of them with me, if you’re able…”

“I’m certainly able to do that,” Claudia responded with a joyous smile. “I actually love anything to do with this mysterious civilization, and even if the information is wrong, I still just devour any stories I can find about it!”

She paused a moment and gave an apologetic look to Cristina’s knights, but Maxima just encouraged her to indulge Leon, and they’d listen in quietly.

With that out of the way, Claudia launched into what she described as the most common myth of that time, and what was essentially the founding myth of the Four Empires, even though all four of the Empires weren’t formally founded until tens of thousands years later.

It started, Claudia narrated, with a war in the heavens between gods and devils. The gods won, but were so injured in the fighting that they were unable to stop the devils from retreating to Aeterna. The devils then used their terrifying power to subjugate all the lands of Aeterna under their banner. Things looked grim for the men of Aeterna, but in the end, the devils succumbed to their true nature, and lost themselves to infighting.

The Aeternan natives rallied around eleven great heroes—those Leon had heard referred to as the ‘Brilliant Eleven’—and with these prodigious warriors leading the charge, they struck in the moment of the devils’ greatest weakness, and drove them from the continent.

Claudia ended her story with a dire warning, though, explaining that according to the stories, the devils weren’t completely defeated, but were only driven away from the Aeternan mainland. Even now, their descendants yet lived on the island far to the southeast, known to the Empires and all the civilizations of mankind as ‘Sky Devil’s Hell’. There, they were imprisoned by the brave men and women of the Imperial navies, but had become so fortified that even the mighty proto-Empires were unable to muster the nerve to dislodge them.

In the end, the Brilliant Eleven decided to let the devils live in peace, hoping that they could eventually find some common ground, and split up to tend to their individual Kingdoms. These Kingdoms eventually coalesced into the Four Empires, but the Sky Devils never made peace with them. The Argonaut Sea and the Straits of Keraunos—

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