The Storm King-Chapter 1161 - Prince Numa

The second wave of colonists from Aeterna entered Artorion to much jubilation. The entire valley shook as the remaining defenders turned their arms and voices to the skies, shouting and stomping and letting their magic run wild in the air; even the more reserved Harts and Ravens got in on the celebration. Those of Inherited Bloodlines transformed and flew or ran through the streets and cleared fields in the eastern half of the valley, baying and howling and roaring in joy.

Leon himself took to the skies in his Thunderbird form, too, and soon, flocks of Ravens, Hawks, and Eagles were following in his wake, while Lions, Bears, Tigers, Spiders, Bison, Harts, and Jaguars shadowed them on the ground. The stronger of the latter seven even flew in their beast forms, though not so high that they were seen to be abandoning their fellow Tribesmen.

The impromptu celebration lasted two hours as the forty thousand men and women of Aeterna reunited with the remaining five thousand who had accompanied Leon in the first wave. Leon, the Jaguar, and the remaining leaders of the first wave had done much to ready everyone for the second wave’s arrival in order to make it as smooth as possible, but all of that preparation went out of the window in the heat of the moment.

But, finally, after those two hours had passed and everyone’s blood had cooled, order was restored. It was going to take some work to get everyone organized again, but at least now they had more than enough people around to help.

The second wave was led by Xanthippe, the ninth-tier Lion elder who had accompanied Leon throughout much of the war with the Sunlit Empire. Other ninth-tier elders were with the wave, too, but she had been elected by the Elder Council to lead. She met Leon on a terraced slope of the nine-peaked mountain only a few hundred feet from his portable villa, in the beginnings of one of Elise’s gardens—though given how beautiful and dense with color it was, Leon would’ve never called it a mere ‘beginning’.

“Your Majesty!” Xanthippe boomed as she fell to the ground in front of him, her mane of golden blond hair whipping behind her like a cloak, bracing herself with her power at the last second to not crash and destroy much of Elise’s work. She’d barely landed when she fell to a knee and the nine other ninth-tier elders landed behind her. As they genuflected, Xanthippe continued, “We have arrived on schedule and without casualties! Though… perhaps we arrived too late?” Her eyes scanned the valley, and Leon knew she was taking in the devastation that had been wrought by Terris’ forces. Even after a month of reconstruction, such damage was apparent for all to see—especially the broken arks among the mountains and fields around the valley.

“You’ve arrived on time, as you’ve said yourself,” Leon said with a smile. “We all knew that establishing ourselves here would be hard. And so it has been. But we’ve survived this long, and given how things have gone so far, don’t be upset that you’ve missed some excitement—there’s surely more to follow.”

Xanthippe grinned savagely, her Lion’s blood burning brightly. “We are ready to serve our King!” she declared. “What must we do?”

Leon reflected her smile and looked around at the armada she’d brought to the Nexus. He made eye contact with his family, his friends, and his remaining advisors.

It was time to get to work.

---

A week followed the arrival of Xanthippe’s fleet. Leon focused the efforts of the newcomers on reconstruction and salvage efforts. With the greatly increased manpower, the walls and other defensive infrastructure were rebuilt quickly, and the additional resources from the city arks allowed them to start construction of a proper arkyard, which Nestor had taken upon himself to supervise despite his myriad other projects.

For their part, the newcomers took some time to mourn the losses in their own ways. Xanthippe, in particular, held up Split-Knuckle’s skull and the remains of his pelt—which she’d taken from the mausoleum Leon had placed them in—for all in her Tribe to behold. More than two thousand Lions, both of the blood and not, roared as one in celebration of their fallen elder, and Xanthippe promised to enshrine his remains in the center of their Tribe once it was built.

To that end, Leon met with the incoming elders and the couple still alive from the first wave to begin ironing out territory. Such a matter would be of paramount importance given the Tribes were generally unused to living closely amongst each other, and their differing cultures could often clash.

Leon had already done much work on that front with the first wave elders, but with his expanded ambitions in the Far West, there were new lines that had to be drawn.

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But before any of that could be decided upon, he had to finish his work first.

That week was his grace period for the other three cities. The arrival of his reinforcements couldn’t have been missed, but no response came from any of them. Only Rolor’s Highcastle had responded in any way to the destruction of their expedition. No additional envoys were sent, no further expeditions were mustered.

Leon wondered what was going on in those cities, though he didn’t let it slow him down much. He’d see for himself what was going on soon.

To that end, after the critical resources were off-loaded and all passengers disembarked, Leon called together the leadership of Artorion as it stood. His friends, family, and advisors were present, along with the elders and Clan Chiefs. The walls of his throne room—for that was the only room in his portable villa large enough to hold everyone—were lined with the ark captains and other military adjutants, while in one corner stood Icarius, Penelope, Emilie, and other members of the ‘new’ Heaven’s Eye, which even included Ajax, who Leon hadn’t seen much of since initially arriving in the Nexus. In another corner stood Anastasios, Eva, their respective entourages, and Clear Day. Of all those whom Leon would’ve considered leaders in his city, only Nestor was absent, as he didn’t care much for war and was far more occupied with ‘endeavors more worthy of his time and skills’, as he put it.

Even Xaphan and the Thunderbird were ‘present’, though only in his soul realm.

“No outreach has been received,” Gaius formally confirmed for the entire room. “Neither an offer of peace nor declaration of war.”

“Their actions were already a declaration of war!” Xanthippe roared, to the vocal agreement of the more warlike Tribes, who stomped their feet and shouted in support. “Either they lay down their arms and pledge their service to our King, or they will be destroyed! There can be no other alternatives after the actions they took!”

Leon looked around the room and saw more agreement than not. And even among those who didn’t look explicitly like they were agreeing, none looked like they outright disagreed.

“My King!” Xanthippe shouted as she kneeled before his throne. “Send me! These cities will be brought to heel, or they will be broken by the Lion’s roar! I could not aid my King in this last war and so do not deserve the honor of leading this operation, but I beg for it anyway! Allow me—allow us to make up for our absence! By the end of the month, the banners and hides of the enemy shall lay at your feet, I swear this to you!”

“There doesn’t appear to be much need for immediate retaliation,” the Jaguar stated, drawing a look of muted ire from Xanthippe. His next words, however, soothed her ruffled mane. “As far as commanders go, however, Xanthippe is competent. She would surely bring us victory should she be commanded to do so.”

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“And why should we not retaliate immediately?” Alcander challenged, to the roaring and stomping of many in the room. “In a moment of perceived weakness, they sent troops against this city?”

“To be clear,” the Jaguar replied through slightly clenched teeth, “I support such actions. All I’m saying is that so long as no further actions are taken by the hostile cities, we have time. The initiative lies with us, to do with as we please. There is wisdom in thinking over our actions before acting.”

Alcander frowned slightly but acknowledged the Jaguar’s words with a nod of his head.

Most in the room were eager for action, Leon noted, especially those recently arrived who wished to prove themselves. He found his attention drawn to the corner with Anastasios, Eva, and Clear Day out of everyone, however, and those three looked rather evaluative rather than eager.

Catching his gaze, Clear Day stepped forward, the briefest flex of his aura silencing the room and allowing him to ask his question.

“The question of… bringing a forceful peace to this disagreement between us and our neighbors is hardly the issue as I see it. Rather, I believe the truest issue lies in how to deal with them afterward. King Leon, I ask you, before your loyal vassals, to enlighten us as to what peace looks like. What would be the strategic goals of action against these other cities?”

Given how Anastasios and Eva’s eyes glittered in anticipation, Leon thought the three must have discussed bringing these matters to everyone’s attention before, but left it to Clear Day to bring up.

Leon smiled and rose to his feet. The most important people in the room—his wives, the elders, and the eleventh-tier mages—had all been seated during the meeting, but as he rose, so did they. He looked around the room, making eye contact with everyone, taking enough time to give his answer to infuse the room with a sense of weight and gravitas.

‘This is it,’ he thought. Weeks of planning and thinking would culminate here. Informal discussions with his friends and advisors, his errant thoughts, his primal anger and fatigue, all led to this moment, when he decided the fate of the Far West.

Everyone in the room hung on his every breath, all eyes followed his every movement, all waited for the words that would dictate how they would direct their energies in the days, months, and years to come. It was so quiet that a mortal could’ve heard a pin drop.

“These lands,” he said, his voice echoing slightly despite the number of people within it, “are to be the foothold of the Thunder Kingdom within the Nexus. I’d hoped to maintain good relations with our neighbors while we used this place as a staging ground to reach the rest of the universe. Those hopes have been dashed.

“We will bring order to the Far West! If they surrender, then these cities will continue to govern as they have for hundreds or thousands of years! If not… then they will be conquered and placed under the rule of Exarchs!”

He paused, his aura sharpening as he briefly looked northward, towards a certain city…

“This offer will remain for all cities west of the Bolt Mountains, even those not actively hostile… save for one; Shatufan has, by its own actions, spent all the goodwill I had for it! Their city will be taken and their leadership broken! The city will be annexed as the seat of an Exarchate, and its capacity for producing Aurichalcum will be put to our Kingdom’s use!

“But make no mistake in this, I do not want any of these cities to be destroyed—not even Shatufan—unless we are left with no other choice! The people of these conquered cities will be granted citizenship and integrated into the Kingdom! They are not to be placed below us, but instead welcomed as brothers and sisters! As Thundermen! Under the banner of the Thunder Kingdom, we will direct everyone to a common purpose—to restore the Kingdom of my Ancestors, that saw all of our Clans forming a dominant power in the universe!”

Though showing restraint and mercy to their enemies was something that Leon thought might’ve gone over poorly, the room was filled with stomping and shouting as he finished his declaration.

He smiled. There were other rules and conditions he had to broach with his commanders, but he thought he hit the most important beats.

When he turned back to Clear Day, he saw the tau not quite happy, but at least smiling with what looked like contentment. If this was a test on the tau’s part, he may not have passed with flying colors, but he at least passed. For now, anyway. He supposed the real test was putting this declaration into action.

Given the support in the room, he thought that the best time for that was relatively soon. If the other cities weren’t going to reach out as King Numa had, then he would visit them and present his terms in person, starting with the closest of the hostile cities: Sentudon.

---

Though two weeks passed since Leon declared his intention to conquer the Far West, little had been done to push that goal forward. There was much groundwork to be laid, and the problem of establishing garrisons in these cities remained. Leon was hoping that some of the cities would surrender, however, and in doing so, alleviate his manpower issues. After all, given the excitement and bloodlust that Xanthippe and the rest of the second wave displayed, he’d decided against waiting for further waves from Aeterna to solve that problem.

The conquest of the Far West would begin with what he had. Fortunately, ‘what he had’ was already starting to pay dividends—the call had gone out for volunteers in Alhamachim, and thousands had answered. Arks were dispatched to the city, and Tauri personally escorted three thousand of his fellows back to Artorion, where two thousand were to be settled in the valley as new farmers while the remaining thousand would be inducted into the army.

From his throne, Leon couldn’t help but smile as he saw Speaker Tauri interacting well with others, including the Jaguar and Xanthippe. There were a few other leaders present from Alhamachim, but none were socializing quite as well as their Speaker.

But even that soon came to an end as a horn sounded and everyone went to their places. More than a hundred pairs of eyes then went to the throne room’s doors, which soon opened to reveal their newly arrived guests.

King Numa strode into the room, his head held high as he and several other high-ranking nobles from his city were announced. Leon didn’t pay much attention to the others other than to note that Duchess Loia was not among them. He would ask Numa about her later, but for the moment, she wasn’t important.

The addition of Numa’s entourage had the throne room feeling rather cramped, but a path still opened for Numa to approach Leon’s throne. Leon was dressed rather simply for the occasion, wearing blue and silver while he wore his old snow lion coat over the top. In contrast, Numa was dressed to the nines, wearing primarily dark red, while his clothes were embroidered and trimmed in gold. Around his shoulders was a golden cloak emblazoned with the crest of his Kingdom—a simplified and stylized castle on a hill—and about his brow rested a brilliant golden diadem set with dozens of glittering rubies of all sizes. Though he was rather unimpressive physically, his fashion sense certainly made up for much of that.

Leon remained seated on his throne as Numa approached. The other King paused before Leon, his face carefully controlled and seemed for a moment frozen. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, determination and resignation were writ large across his face.

He took one step forward and kneeled before Leon. He took the diadem from his head and laid it on the floor before Leon.

“I submit myself to you, King Leon,” he said solemnly, speaking softly but more than audible for everyone in the room. “I acknowledge you as my sovereign and the suzerain of Rolor’s Highcastle.”

Leon smiled. When stories were told of this moment, it would surely be made more dramatic, taking place in whatever palace would eventually be built here, in a throne room befitting a Storm King. The cramped main hall of his portable villa was hardly the most august of locations, after all.

But the location hardly mattered; only Numa’s submission did. Leon’s demands were agreed to, and the Highcastle was now his vassal.

Leon rose from his seat and took a few slow steps forward, taking his time in order to reinforce his dominance to the crowd. When he stood before the kneeling Numa, he lazily extended a hand, summoning the diadem from the ground. His smile widened slightly as he examined the intricate piece, noting the flowing lines that drew the eye to the gems. It wasn’t dazzlingly complex, but it was beautiful, nonetheless.

The enchantments within it were nothing to laugh at, either. It acted as a battery for magic power and enhanced the lightning magic of its wearer. Leon could make better enchantments, but he was still impressed with the workmanship.

After his quick inspection, he placed the diadem back upon Numa’s head and commanded, “Rise, Prince Numa.”

Numa did just that, but even standing straight, he still had to look up to meet Leon’s gaze. After a moment, Leon embraced the former King, and as he did, his Tribal vassals led the way in embracing Numa’s entourage—to their surprise and Leon’s amusement.

It was now official, Rolor’s Highcastle was Leon’s vassal—and at generous terms. He hoped such an example would be easy for the rest of the cities of the Far West to follow, but if it wasn’t… Rolor’s Highcastle was a Kingdom—now a Principality—with a population measured in the tens of millions.

More than enough people to raise an army. More than enough for him to conquer the Far West.

As he released Prince Numa, he turned his gaze northward. With this ceremony complete, it was almost time to make for Sentudon…