The Storm King

Chapter 789: Preparing for the Future

The Director seethed, and for that, Leon felt a strange sense of glee. Sure, he was infuriated that the Keeper had attacked him and broke so much of his villa, but in the days since, he’d calmed down enough that seeing the Director so irate was far more fun than wallowing in anger against the Sentinels’ head of state.

Still, Leon could tell that the Director’s ire wasn’t solely reserved for the Keeper, though the Keeper was certainly getting most of it—the fact that this meeting had been delayed until after the Grand Druid’s arrival stuck in the Director’s craw, too, but Leon had been careful not to leave his villa following the attack, and the Director had been unwilling to leave the Hexagon for too long, either. As a result, they hadn’t been able to touch base with each other until now. Now that they were speaking, Leon’s story of that day destroyed any calm that might’ve settled over the Director.

“I can’t believe that he did that…” the Director wrathfully muttered as he leaned over his desk.

“Is it really so hard to believe?” Leon asked. “He seems rather zealous in his beliefs, or such is the impression I have from the Grand Druid and Lord Protector, and combined with his obvious power, maybe he felt untouchable? Maybe his concerns about me prompted him to do this?”

“Trying to excuse his behavior, Leon?” the Director asked, his tone sounding genuinely surprised.

“Not at all,” Leon replied with a vicious smile. “He came damn close to killing Elise, Marcus, and Marcus’ sister. People trying to kill me is easy to forgive; it’s when they try to hurt those close to me that grudges form. And Keeper tried to kill someone very close to me.”

The Director grunted. “Good thing he was run off, then. This whole thing was brought to an end before anything could be done that couldn’t be taken back.”

Leon sighed and jumped up to sit on the Director’s desk, eliciting a look of reproach from the man, who still stood in front it. “We knew that Keeper was going to be the most problematic, but I’ve gotten an alliance with the Lord Protector and Grand Druid. I’m not going to be leaving Occulara for a while, either. Hopefully, with the application of plenty of time, all of this will cool off a bit and we can get down to business.”

The Director scowled. “I’m not letting you anywhere near my arks until we can be sure that you’re not being watched.”

Leon’s vicious smile returned. “Your arks, is it? Seems like you’re just keeping them warm for me since you can’t access their critical functions. But I’ll let that slide; I don’t entirely disagree with you on staying away for a while. Besides, I have more than enough to occupy myself with in the meantime.”

The Director grunted again in acknowledgment. “Then, for now,” he said, “I’ll see what I can do to discourage the Keeper from coming back, and you can get back to settling into your new role.”

Leon frowned slightly and nodded. “I can do that. But, out of curiosity, what measures do you have in mind?”

“I don’t have any in mind, yet,” the Director growled in dissatisfaction. “It’s not for nothing that the Sentinels have a reputation for austerity. The guild has less of a presence in the east than we do even in some outer Kingdoms. They have the weakest and least developed economy of all the other Empires, so the economic sanctions or bureaucratic red tape that we might’ve thrown at any other government for such an act won’t be as effective as they’d need to be. Instead, we’re going to have to reroute trade and look at other sources of goods that they provide. It means a large-scale rework of the way that Heaven’s Eye manages Aeterna’s trade. And all of this going on just as the Sky Devils are causing major disruptions in trade flowing from the south…”

Leon’s lips thinned as he pointedly looked away. Such matters were so beyond his skillset that he had nothing constructive to add, and he got the impression that the Director wasn’t exactly looking for suggestions, either.

“You’re working with the north and west,” the Director said after a moment of silence. “How much have you committed to?”

“I haven’t sworn myself to them, but I have agreed to help them to unlock and study any legacies they might have in storage. I didn’t place many restrictions on that, but Anastasios, so far, has been quite moderate in his requests, bringing me nothing more than a few scrolls to unseal, and the Grand Druid hasn’t made any requests of me yet. I’m sure that both of them will ramp up in the coming months and years, but for now, they’re not getting too onerous.”

‘Hmm. Good. If that’s what it takes to keep the peace, then so be it. What are your intentions regarding the south and east?”

“The east, I’m sure you can guess after the Keeper’s stunt: sweet nothing. As for the south… I suppose if they want in, the Sunlit Emperor can ask, but I’m not going to go and offer them anything.”

“Fair enough.”

Another silence settled over them for a long moment, and Leon figured their short meeting was over.

“Well,” he said as he jumped off the desk and back to his feet, “I’ll just get back to research, then, and leave the paperwork and stuff to you.”

A third time, the Director grunted, and Leon left the office. He actually did have some work he needed to do, but there was something else he wanted to devote much of his day to studying: the crown that the Grand Druid had handed over in exchange for expanding the deal he had with Anastasios to include her, as well.

—

“What a mess,” Nestor murmured. “What barbarity, what lack of taste, what vandalism!”

Next to Nestor’s ruby in Leon’s soul realm lay the Grand Druid’s crown, in all of its glory.

The entire piece featured much of the same floral themes that typified Evergolden art, but the core of the crown was a band of gold with reliefs of birds—obvious depictions of the Thunderbird herself—covering its exterior. To anyone else, though, these birds would likely not demand much notice, like being seen as just additional artistic flourishes to accompany the rest of the floral crown. Set in the center of the crown, right in the center of the wearer’s forehead, was a large ruby about the size of a chicken’s egg that glowed like a star.

“Is there something wrong with the crown?” Leon asked.

“Look at it!” Nestor shouted. “They covered it in golden garbage! Tried to erase us by covering us with golden flowers! Erasing us by altering the image of our Honored Ancestor! Though, it’s indicative of what they are and what they aspire to be, isn’t it? For all they speak of hating what we did, they want to be us, but they aren’t and never will be. So they grow around us, never quite erasing us from view, and just clinging onto our old greatness like garish weeds. That they take what was ours and try to make it their own is insulting on its own, but that they add all of this other trashy gold to it adds insult to injury.”

Leon shrugged. “Is there any need for the flowers to stay there?” He couldn’t sense any magic within the flowers and felt like removing them from the crown wouldn’t have any deleterious effects, but it was always wise to consult with those more knowledgeable, he supposed.

“Get rid of them,” Nestor growled.

Leon chuckled and conjured his armor’s gauntlet, and then stuck his fire scalpel gem into it. Following that, he, with great care and a complete lack of sentimentality for the Evergolden additions, began to cut off the golden flowers that had been attached to the crown. With every cut, Nestor groaned in dismay as the quality of Evergolden metallurgy and goldsmithing was put on display. The flowers looked like they’d been rather haphazardly welded on, and some of the Thunderbird reliefs they’d been attached to had been irreparably damaged. The shape of the crown had been well-maintained despite gold being soft and prone to warping from extended use, but even after the flowers were removed, it still looked quite sad given the now-obvious damage done.

For his part, Leon wasn’t so much offended as he was simply disappointed. The crown was heavily enchanted and, thanks to the glowing ruby, had access to quite a bit of magic power. However, none of the crown’s enchantments seemed designed to maintain its appearance and to enhance the appearance and aura of the one wearing it.

“What kind of enchantments are in this thing?” Leon asked.

“Few that will be of much help, now,” Nestor despondently replied.

“I… didn’t damage it myself, did I?” Leon worriedly asked.

“Nothing you did just now would’ve damaged it, no,” Nestor answered.

Leon breathed a sigh of relief. It had taken almost twenty minutes to get all of the flowers off the crown, perhaps double the time it would’ve needed if he’d been less careful. He would’ve hated it if he’d been that careful and still wound up damaging Penthesilea’s crown.

“Still,” Leon continued, “what could it have done back in the day, then?”

“It acted as one of my sister’s many IDs,” Nestor explained, his tone still dull and depressed. “In effect, it acted as a key for several of Penthesilea’s vehicles—arks and other such magical transportation. Just about all critical magical infrastructure that she used required the use of such keys.

“But that crown was quite special to her, and I personally enchanted it with a couple other functions, to wit: a storage gem for her magic power she could draw on if needed; it allowed her to communicate with our father and eldest brother whenever the need called for it; the crown amplified her aura for social effect; and finally, it significantly raised the potency of her lightning magic by altering how it flowed through her body.”

With every function revealed, Leon’s eyes bugged out of their sockets even more. A magical storage device was valuable, though hardly game changing since he already had a couple of those. Communication with those who were now dead was obviously about as useful as shouting into the uncaring Void. However, the aura amplification and raising the potency of lightning magic was something he was very much interested in, as well as the possibility of finding and taking possession of any nice bits and pieces Penthesilea might’ve left behind using the crown’s ID function.

However, before Leon could gush about any of this, he restrained himself and asked, “And why would ‘few be of much help’, dead man?”

“Most of the enchantments are too decayed or damaged to be of use,” Nestor explained. “The crown still stores magic power, and it might still be usable as her old ID, but the other enchantments are unusable.”

Leon practically deflated with every word Nestor spoke. “Is there any point to trying to repair the crown?” he asked.

“None,” Nestor replied.

Leon grimaced, but he understood; no reason to re-enchant the crown when he could simply apply those enchantments to something more sturdier and more suitable to hold them.

“Well,” Leon said, “at least it’s back in the Clan’s hands.”

“At least there’s that,” Nestor sighed. “It’s good to see you reclaimed the Clan’s property, even if you’re not going about it as zealously as you should be.”

“Let’s not get all caught up on things, now, dead man,” Leon said rather unseriously.

“You’ve spent how long complaining about the Clan and declaring that you’d ‘do things yourself’, how can I not feel some pride in you seeing the light?”

“I’m not sure about seeing the light, but—and I’m fairly certain I’ve said this to you before, Nestor—I’m taking what I want and leaving the baggage behind. Like this crown, I want to cut off the weeds and leave only what’s valuable. I don’t need a lot of what the Clan brought with it, but if I want it, I’ll take it. I’m more concerned about the Sky Devils, to be honest; restoring the Clan is far more about reasserting our place in the universe than collecting a bunch of rusty junk, isn’t it?”

“It is, though a lot of that ‘rusty junk’ could help in reclaiming our place in the universe. But fine, do what you will, ignore the advice of those infinitely your wiser, as is your wont. How are things going on the Sky Devil front, by the way? It’s been more than two weeks since that duel you fought with the descendant of the Blood Thunder Jaguar—at his tier, I would’ve assumed he’d have been able to try and contact you by now.”

Leon scowled as he remembered some of the reports he’d received over the past couple of days. Details from the south weren’t the easiest things to come by, but as a Chief of Heaven’s Eye, he got the best that could be expected.

And the reports weren’t good for his future plans. He was glad that he redirected Anshu’s attention to include contacting the Sky Devils because he wasn’t sure they’d be able to get to the mainland on their own with what they’d shown so far.

One of the biggest fears of the Sky Devils were their dread ships. The island that became known as the Sword was a critical piece of the Imperial defense strategy that kept the southwestern nations safe, from the Indra Raj to the Pegasi States, from Sky Devil raids. Any dread ship that tried to raid the coast would have to either bypass the Sword—not an easy thing to do—or contend with the Imperial fleets. Without the Sword, the Sky Devils theoretically had such a good position that they could practically raid the southwest with impunity, and from what Leon had heard of the southeast, it wasn’t much better since most of the forts along the Shield mountains had fallen, too.

The curious thing was that the Sky Devils had yet to press their advantage—the Sword was now in their hands, the Imperial fleets had been crippled, the navies of the other nations were not up to the task of defending against the Sky Devils who might be out in force, and the land armies of the defending parties were still mustering. If Leon had been in charge of the Sky Devils, he would’ve launched an invasion of the Pegasi States by now, or if his logistics couldn’t support that, then at least led a couple of raids just to keep the Aeternans on their toes.

The Sky Devils had instead apparently done nothing. Their fleets, only a few days after Argos had been sacked, pulled back to the Sword, and a great number of ships were noticed pulling back to the Sky Devil’s Hell. It wasn’t clear exactly what was happening, whether they were simply fortifying the Sword against Imperial attempts to retake it, if there was some kind of instability back on their island, or what was going on. There were even a few scattered reports of relatively sizable contingents of Sky Devils coming to blows, though not quite to the extent of true infighting.

Regardless, current Heaven’s Eye and Imperial thinking was that the Sky Devils were now weaker than they appeared, despite the light losses sustained during Argos’ sacking, the seizure of the Sword, and the taking of the Shield forts. The pull-back to their island added some credence to the theory that there was some infighting amongst them, but whatever the reason, it seemed that it might be some time before their dread ships started plying the waters off the coast of the Pegasi States, let alone nations even farther away from their waters. If whatever this was persisted for even just a couple of years, then it would give the Empires more than enough time to rearm, rebuild their fleets, and come back to the Sword with vengeance in their eyes and enough force to retake the island.

Leon explained all of this to Nestor as succinctly as he could, and Nestor reached the same conclusion he did.

“… Sounds like the Jaguar will take years just to reach the mainland,” the dead man observed.

“That was already our working assumption,” Leon said, “so nothing’s really changed. It’s just… disheartening. I would’ve liked to meet them partway, but it seems like we’re going to have make more of an effort to get in contact than I might’ve guessed.”

“Such is the hand we’re often given,” Nestor muttered. “Nothing to do but play it as best we can. What are your priorities going forward? I’ll need to arrange your lesson plans if you’re to continue advancing in your studies of the art of enchanting.”

Leon took a deep breath as he threw himself into a nearby chair. “Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise; I need power more than anything, and I’d like to have it before dealing with the Sky Devils,” he said. “The Keeper damn near ripped me to pieces before Anastasios showed up. I’m rubbing shoulders with giants, so I need to grow or I’m going to get crushed underfoot. Ninth-tier before doing anything else is a must. If I can swing tenth-tier, then even better, though even Anastasios and the Grand Druid might have problems with that. Can’t be too threatening, now; they’re only being as indulgent as they are since they think themselves far superior to me.”

“I assume those apples are going to come into play, then?”

“Yes,” Leon confirmed. “Tikos has indicated that the orchard should be ready to start producing Hesperidic Apples in a year or so. Should get all of our power shooting upwards, I think.”

“And what does your sprite friend say about thunder wood?”

“That I’ll probably have some proper samples long before I reach ninth-tier,” Leon said. “Assuming, of course, that it takes years for me to reach ninth-tier, which I think is a reasonable estimate. So Helen’s on that, right now, while Elise is making sure our fields are getting back to normal and Tikos is managing the orchard.”

“Sounds like things are falling into place,” Nestor observed.

“Certainly feels that way,” Leon replied. “Feels like I can start finally relaxing a little bit. Relatively, I mean. Nose will still be to the grindstone, but I don’t think I’ll have much cause to worry about being in harm’s way for a hot minute. That’ll be nice.”

“For you, that would be an accomplishment…”

“Hey, those years between arriving in Occulara and the wyvern hunt were very peaceful!”

“And you screwed them up, didn’t you? Everything went to shit following that hunt, didn’t it? And you were left scrambling and without much assurance of safety, weren’t you?”

Leon scowled again. “That won’t happen this time.”

“Prove it, kid. Prove it.”

Leon’s scowl turned upward into an unabashed grin. He was ready to do just that. So, he stood up and made his way back to his throne, leaving Nestor with barely more than a goodbye.

He smiled as he sat down, though, for the future seemed bright, at least. He had momentum and some measure of peace. He just had to make sure not to waste this time, for he didn’t know how long he had before some new crisis came knocking at his door.

There was a lot that needed his attention, and it was time to get back to it all.

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