The Storm King-Chapter 1192: After the Storm

“… we’ll be there in a few hours,” Marcus said, a wry grin on his face. He glanced around him before lowering his voice. “I have to admit, Leon… I was wondering when you were going to get involved. I know what you wanted to do, but sitting around doing nothing isn’t really your style…”

Leon snorted in amusement. “Maybe not. Either way, get here as soon as you can. I saw many flee underground, and I’ll need an army to storm those positions. They still have those prisoners…”

Marcus’ face turned grim. “You don’t think they’ve…”

A scowl warped Leon’s features. “No… they’d be stupid to have done that… I have their King in hand…”

“Right…” Marcus replied, an unsettled pause passing between them.

With a sigh, Leon finally said, “Just get here quickly. The quicker the better.”

“Right!”

The comm slate turned off and Leon leaned back on the boulder he’d posted up on and let out a long breath. It didn’t entirely banish his unease, but it at least helped.

After Leon so abruptly left Sakhmej, leaving with barely a word to anyone, an emergency meeting had been called among the leaders of the expedition, military and civilian alike. It didn’t take long for them to guess as to his destination, and Marcus, Anshu, and Red quickly set off with Storm Herald in his wake. Leon was now quite deep into the northeastern continent, but Storm Herald had reached the coast and rendezvoused with the force that had already been assembling to avenge the defeat in this valley. Leon simply got there first.

Of course, he hadn’t been entirely out of contact over the course of his flight, and he hadn’t been out of control during the battle, but this was the first time he’d given specific orders since leaving Sakhmej. Now, as he stared out across the storm-battered forest, the rain dousing the fires his lightning had started and quenching the burning wrecks of a hundred arks, he wondered at the wisdom of his actions.

[Something wrong, my boy?] the Thunderbird asked from his soul realm. [I would’ve thought that letting loose would’ve been cathartic for you. Don’t you feel better now that you’ve avenged your slain people?]

For a moment, Leon thought he heard mockery in her voice, but in the next moment, he realized that was just his cynicism coloring his view. He spared a glare for the two unconscious ninth-tier mages at his feet, just enough to make sure they were still alive, then replied to his Ancestor.

[It did feel good. It felt better than almost anything else in life. But…]

[… ‘But’ what?]

Leon took two long, deep breaths before replying despite not needing any air to do so. [How much will my people learn from failure if I bail them out every time?]

[How many times can you allow your people to fail?]

[How many times have you advised me to delegate? How can I delegate like this?]

[Stop thinking so hard about this, boy. Your forces have won many battles on this plane. Don’t linger on the one they lost. The duty of a King is to protect his people—to lead them in war, to slay their enemies, to avenge their deaths. A King may need to delegate many roles, especially one so wide-ruling as you aspire to be, but war is another matter entirely. War is a King’s highest priority.]

[‘Highest’? Not making heirs and securing the succession?]

[War is a King’s second highest priority.]

Leon smirked despite himself. Another glance at the two at his feet sent the expression fleeing, however.

The Thunderbird continued, [Your forces have amassed much experience on this plane. You intervening in one affair will not break them. It will not meaningfully impact their fighting prowess. Unless you believe that this battle represented a unique experience that cannot be replicated? Or that your forces can’t learn anything from the defeat itself, even if you took vengeance into your own talons?]

[My people are not so weak.]

[Are they not? Did they not lose to a planar power? And one from an unremarkable and inconsequential plane at that?]

[This plane has consequence,] Leon testily argued. [I wouldn’t have a place that my people bled and died for be so denigrated.]

The Thunderbird audibly sighed. [My question, Leon, was the point, even if some of my words were ill-chosen. Let me rephrase, if it so offends you. Why did your people fail here?]

The question was an important one, one that required plenty of analysis to properly answer. However, before even so much as speaking with Commodore Nicetas or Vice Admiral Diomedes, Leon had an idea or two.

[My immediate thought is arrogance.]

Leon could almost imagine the Thunderbird sagely nodding as she responded, [With power comes pride. Belief in one’s power is never a bad thing—confidence can often be the only barrier between defeat and victory—but taken too far can lead to feelings of invincibility.]

A tightening sensation crept through the mental connection they were speaking through; the Thunderbird was focusing her attention on him to emphasize her next words.

[No one is invincible. It is impossible to be invincible. Look at me. Look at the Primal Gods and Devils. Look at that traitor Khosrow. All beings at the pinnacle of power. All thought themselves unkillable, unstoppable, and inviolate. Even sacrosanct. Jason Keraunos thought this, too. His mistake spelled the downfall of the Clan. Had he acted with greater caution and foresight, and had he a greater ability to tell the difference between himself and a Grave Warden of the Divine Graveyard, it never would’ve fallen to you to revive the Clan, for the Clan would never have fallen.]

Another sigh escaped Leon. The thought of being left to his interests almost had him salivating. He sometimes wondered what would happen if he managed to finally make a child with one of his wives, and that child grew to be someone worth respecting and admiring. How long might his ass continue to polish his throne? Could he stomach abdicating and passing the weighty responsibility for the Thunderbird Clan onto his child?

Leon’s jaw clenched and he didn’t know how to respond. His eyes raced over the silhouettes of the mountains, the sun starting to rise far behind them, the fires that had illuminated them for much of the night now extinguished, and the storm he’d brought dissipating. He glanced back down at the two ninth-tier mages who had brought his wrath, who had defeated his army and shot down eight of his arks.

This wouldn’t be the last defeat that his forces would suffer in the conquests to come. His armies needed to learn to roll with these punches, or more ideally, never take the hits in the first place.

But that was a discussion for when he sat down with his commanders and ran through the after-action reports of Kesken’s conquest. Now, he had to figure out what to do with these two; he could already feel one of them starting to stir. Before he could do anything about that, he sensed something approaching, but his alarm was momentary when he realized what that something was. A soft, unironic smile graced his lips, and he readied himself on the boulder to make the best possible impression upon his prisoners as they awoke…

---

Consciousness returned to Daryun slowly, the haze in his mind thick and painful enough that he didn’t want to think too hard about where he was or what he’d been doing. As trickles of memory fought through all of that and reached the front of his mind, however, his heart beat more and more ferociously in wordless demand for him to wake and face his enemies.

‘What… enemies…?’

He sensed something close to his face and hot breath on his cheek. This was hardly the comforting embrace of a lover, but he found himself cracking his eyes open anyway.

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A familiar snout filled his vision as his nose finally properly processed the horse breath that filled it.

Daryun instinctively reared his head back for a moment before weakly raising a hand to gently stroke Scarlet Star’s snout.

“Loyal beast you have there,” an unfamiliar voice speaking unfamiliar words said to him, though curiously, Daryun understood them perfectly. His eyes shot open, and the sight before him banished all haze from his mind and restored his full memories of what had happened before.

He saw a young man sitting on a boulder—dark brown hair, striking gold eyes, and a body built for war, though he wasn’t wearing any armor—and he saw Imak on the ground beside him. Scarlet Star hovered over him, and lastly, Daryun thought that they were in the same valley as the battle, but he couldn’t project his magic senses without pain, so he refrained.

The young man didn’t look like any depictions of the Unnamed God he’d ever seen, but he supposed it was folly to lump the gods in with mortals and their unchanging forms—Yrati often manifested amongst the faithful as the scent of blood on the wind or the faint sound of clanging steel, and he was one of the more conventional gods among the pantheon.

As hazy as his mind was and with his nerves alight with aches and pains throughout his body, Daryun didn’t feel dead, though he wondered what death was supposed to feel like.

‘Painless, at least?’

He struggled to rise, and for a moment, he thought it might be to no avail; a heavy aura weighed upon him, preventing him from moving. After that moment, however, it lifted, allowing him to struggle up first into a sitting position, and then onto his shaky jelly legs. Even this much was a herculean task given how terribly and magic-deficient he felt, and though he stood before this mysterious figure, he was far, far from in fighting shape.

Scarlet Star rubbed his head insistently against Daryun, calling attention to burns on his hindquarters and running down one of his back legs. Daryun quickly inspected his longest and most faithful partner, his weakness forgotten, the youth on the boulder relegated to the back of his mind for the moment.

“Ah, Star,” Daryun said as he ran his hands through the horse’s red hair, “these are superficial. Don’t be a baby, now.”

The horse whinnied, sounding rather affronted, but Daryun could tell just from how the horse was standing that the burns were minor at best. Sure, he hated how it made the magnificent steed look, but aesthetics were hardly the most important thing right now, especially if they were in the presence of the Unnamed God, about to be judged for their actions in life.

Tentatively, Daryun whispered, “Nothing brings me greater joy than to see that Scarlet Star has found his way to me…”

‘I’d rather he wasn’t dead, too, though…’

“War beasts can be complex creatures,” the youth said, “but in most ways, they have a noble simplicity to them, especially if they are treated right.” With a wave of his hand a flaring of his aura that caused Daryun to instinctively squint despite the actual flash of magic being rather dim, a powerful healing spell sprang into being and landed on Scarlet Star. So powerful was this spell that the burns were already fading, replaced with fresh gleaming red hair before the runes on the paper had even been fully illuminated.

Panic seeped into Daryun’s mind. This wasn’t the other side, the antechamber to the realm of the dead… and if that were the case, then this young man was…

“I am Daryun, Lord of Alamati,” he declared, summoning as much strength to pack into his voice as he could. He still wavered slightly as he named his home, but he finished strongly.

“And I am Leon Raime,” the young man replied. “You and your King over here shot down some of my arks and killed many of my people.”

Daryun’s blood ran cold as he attempted to reach into his soul realm for armor, weapons, anything, but the moment his aura began to flex, Leon’s attention snapped back to him and the weighty aura returned, forcing him to his knees.

“Best not to do anything foolish, now,” Leon warned, and again, Daryun wondered just how he was able to understand him given he obviously wasn’t speaking any language of Kesken that he was aware of. “I wouldn’t want your Scarlet Star to be upset…”

Through gritted teeth, Daryun demanded, “What… do you… want with me?!” His eyes flickered over to Imak. “With us…?!”

Scarlet Star, concern in his dark brown eyes, stepped closer to Daryun and rubbed his head over Daryun’s. The warrior’s breath caught in his throat at the comforting gesture, even if it wasn’t that well-timed. His eyes turned back to Leon Raime as the heavy aura slowly but steadily lessened.

“You… spared my horse…?” Daryun asked.

“Focus on one question, if you would,” Leon flippantly replied, though in his apparently casual demeanor, Daryun could detect some tensing of his arms and legs; signs that Leon wasn’t quite as relaxed as he was making himself look. If Daryun said the wrong thing…

“What do you want?” Daryun asked as he forced his jaw to relax.

“I want my people returned to me,” Leon stated simply.

“Leave this Kingdom,” Daryun insisted.

“Your Kingdom is gone,” Leon harshly stated, his words hitting Daryun like a sack of bricks. “The question now is how you’ll accept your defeat. Gracefully, or in an ocean of blood. Returning my people would be a good step towards reconciliation, even if you did kill so many others.”

“You invaded us!” Daryun protested. “What did you expect us to do?”

A long silence followed, Leon’s head cocking to the side slightly as if he were listening to something else—which he likely was, though he didn’t address it aloud.

Finally, Leon stated, “Death and loss are to be expected in war. What I found less respectable was the taking of trophies. I might have left you to my fleets had you not taken elder Lir’s antlers. That man followed me from the moment I made my claim to Kingship two hundred years ago, only to meet his end at the end of a butcher’s cleaver.”

“You cry… for a monster?” Daryun spat.

Leon’s posture tensed and his aura chilled; Daryun had to fight not to shiver, and it was a fight he lost. When he made eye contact with Leon, he found himself entranced, the golden orbs almost appearing to him as doorways to the other side, to the Kingdom of the Dead…

“If I killed your Scarlet Star, how would you like it if I made his tail into a banner? Or skinned him and turned his hide into a cloak? Or fed his meat to dogs?”

Daryun bit his tongue, already regretting his thoughtless outburst. Scarlet Star glanced between them, understanding that something was wrong, but not quite having the mental capacity to put everything together—that was fine, he was only sixth-tier; Daryun didn’t expect full sapience from his steed. Still, the thoughts Leon put into his head, of his best friend being butchered…

’He’s an Ascended Beast too, isn’t he?’ Daryun reminded himself, images of the huge white raptor obliterating the Royal ark fleet flashing through his mind as brightly as his silver-blue lightning.

“A thoughtless comment, I apologize,” Daryun stated seriously.

Leon glared at him, and after thoroughly chilling Daryun’s blood, clicked his tongue and acted like the comment had never been uttered. “Who was the one who took those trophies?”

Daryun considered for a moment lying to protect his acquaintance, but slowly building pressure on the edge of his consciousness prevented that.

‘How deeply can he penetrate my mind? I can understand him, so he at least put some knowledge of language in there…’ For a moment, letters, words, and sounds ran through his head, matching what was coming from Leon Raime’s mouth. If he had to, he supposed he could speak the same language, though it would be hard without enough practice to build up muscle memory.

“I-Ibra Rassim, Lord Mayor of Kaatori…”

“Do you know if he’s alive or dead?’

Though he still didn’t project his magic senses, Daryun glanced around the forest as if he could see through the trees. “Lord Mayor Rassim was given shelter in Cano’s Third Fortress,” he stated, pointing to a mountain close to the southwestern side of the gorge. “I don’t know if he was out in the camps when you… when you arrived. I don’t know if he’s still alive or not.”

“I’ll remember the name anyway,” Leon said. “When your King awakens, I’m sure he’ll be amenable to my demand for his head. If not, I’ll take it myself.”

Daryun again clenched his jaw tightly shut. ‘I’m sorry.’ He wasn’t close to Ibra, but he was friendly enough with the man to wish he was already dead to spare him whatever horror Leon Raime was visibly contemplating.

Aloud, he asked a burning question of his own, one he’d asked previously. “What do you intend to do with us? Specifically?”

“Your King will abdicate to me,” Leon stated as naturally as if he were commenting on the color of the sky. “I don’t need him to do this, but it will smoothen the transition. Your Kingdom is already in my hands, there’s no need to bring further death and suffering to the people. Maybe I’ll even let him live afterwards. Depends on how he acts beforehand.”

Daryun fought the urge to grimace. “And me?”

“You… I’m unsure of,” Leon admitted. “That remains to be seen. I might be convinced to let you retire home. Maybe if I’m feeling particularly generous, I’ll even let you keep your Lordship. We’ll see.”

Though he knew it was a mistake, Daryun glowered at the enemy King and said, “I will not accept that. I will not kneel to anyone but a King of my choosing.”

“That doesn’t sound like an issue; just choose me, then.” Leon shrugged easily, sparking no small amount of outrage from Daryun.

“Do not make light of my honor!”

“Do not make light of my capabilities, Daryun…”

“I will not bow out of defeat!” Daryun insisted.

Leon glared down at him, any joviality in his demeanor dissipating. He leaped down from the boulder and landed in front of Daryun, though before he did anything else, his stance shifted slightly, his eyes glazed over for a moment, and he turned his head; someone was speaking, and he was listening.

Daryun waited, his breath caught in his throat, his chest tight, for Leon Raime to pass judgment like the Unnamed God he’d mistaken him for when he awoke. With as much defiance as he could bring to bear, Daryun glared right back at him.

But when Leon returned his attention to Daryun, he simply and rather infuriatingly replied, “Fine. We’ll see what you do when the time comes.”

Daryun exhaled, grateful that his life wasn’t over just yet, even if some amount of shame wound through his heart simply for being grateful for being alive.

A thrum of magic ran through the air and Daryun realized that arks had entered the valley, and these were not arks loyal to Imak. The King himself still lay on the ground, though from the way his aura was steadily flexing with greater and greater strength, Daryun knew that the King was minutes from waking up.

He took a deep breath. Whatever was going to happen was going to dictate the future of the entire Kingdom. Regardless, he intended to face it with dignity and honor.

Scarlet Star nudged him again, and he couldn’t help but bring a hand up to stroke his horse’s mane. ‘And you, my friend. Dignity, honor, and you…’