The Storm King

The place where the three elders who’d defected from the Jaguars to the Tigers were being held could hardly be called a prison. They’d exercised their rights as elders to cast their vote and had broken no laws, though they’d still likely face ostracization if they were returned to the Jaguars if not death, but the Tigers had allowed them to stay in a fairly small villa in one of Stormhollow’s suburbs under their control, on the condition that they not try to leave.

It was this villa that Leon found himself going to following his conversation with the Grand Druid and Lord Protector. He was accompanied by only a dozen Tempest Knights, Valeria, and Maia, with his remaining retainers training with the rest of the knights, and Cassandra wanted to make a few calls to some of her friends and contacts back in the Sacred Golden Empire using his comm lotus.

He was met at the door by an eighth-tier Tiger elder and all of the villa’s workers. He waved them off, however, not wanting to get bogged down in any welcoming ceremony. He was here for one reason: to speak with those elders who’d defected from his cause.

All three were waiting for him in the villa’s main hall. Leon, Valeria, and Maia walked in while the knights waited for them outside. The elders rose upon Leon’s entrance, and each gave him a polite bow, and while they seemed outwardly calm, one’s hands were shaking, another’s aura was wavering, and the third seemed determined to look everywhere but into Leon’s eyes.

‘They’re nervous,’ Leon noted, though he could hardly blame them.

“Please, let’s not stand on ceremony,” Leon said as he joined them at the table they’d been sitting around. “I like to think that I’m a decent enough person, no need to fear me doing anything untoward.”

His words didn’t seem to mollify the elders at all, but they at least sat down as Valeria and Maia sat on either side of Leon.

“Now, how about we get some introductions out of the way?” Leon asked. “Having so many elders to get to know is kind of a good problem to have, I suppose, but it does mean that I’ve regrettably not had the time to memorize everyone’s names and faces.”

One of the elders, a fairly robustly-built man with graying hair and more than a few lines on his rather pale face, hesitantly began, “Your Majesty—”

“Just ‘Leon’, please.”

The elder looked almost horrified at addressing him so casually, but with visible effort, he managed to say, “L-Leon… If you’ll allow me… I w-would like to be the first of us to congr-congratulate you on your accession…”

The other two elders made sounds of agreement, but Leon just gave them a disappointed look and stated, “Thank you, but there’s no need for this. Relax.”

In truth, there was a small part of Leon that was reveling in just how nervous these three were, a part of him that celebrated just how badly they knew they’d screwed up. But as tempted as Leon was to indulge that feeling, he repressed it in favor of something he thought more productive.

“Now,” he repeated, “Might I have your names?”

The elder who spoke first leaned forward and said, “I am Andros.”

“I am known as Narses,” the second one said, causing Leon to have to fight quite hard not to sigh dramatically. He couldn’t have looked less like Narses the White if he tried—he was slight of build and rather mousy in appearance. His skin tone was a little more tanned than the first, but not the warm golden color of a Jaguar with awakened blood.

The third elder was one of the most average-looking people Leon had ever seen. Average height and build, his skin wasn’t notably pale or tan, and his hair and eyes were the most unremarkable shade of brown that Leon thought he’d ever seen. But he seemed the most nervous of them all, and it took the first elder nudging him slightly before he very hesitantly introduced himself.

“I am… Jason…” he murmured.

Leon fought the urge to smile and refrained from commenting on the man’s name.

“Well,” Leon said, “I’m pleased to meet you three. However, since it seems I’m imposing and getting some small talk out of you is like pulling teeth, how about we just skip right to the point?”

The elders shared a look. Their anxiety visibly increased but Leon charged onward regardless.

“The three of you defected from the Jaguars to vote for the former Thunderer. Such was your choice, though I have to say that the Jaguars were irate. I think you three know the consequences of returning home, don’t you?”

“The Jaguar Tribe was not our home,” Andros bitterly spat, to the horror of the other two.

“Why not?” Leon asked.

“We lacked the power,” Andros said. “Even you, when you arrived, spoke of the Tribe’s Honored Ancestor and dealt only with those whose bloodlines were awakened. The three of us strove our entire lives to reach the heights we have, but we’ve reached the absolute ceiling. We were elders, but we were insignificant on the Tribal Council. No one listened when we spoke. No one asked our opinions. We were treated as benchwarmers and nothing more.”

“When you arrived,” Narses said, sounding like he was forcing the words out through a rebelling throat, “we had thought… we didn’t… It wasn’t hard to see that those with bloodlines were only going to grow stronger. We don’t… we haven’t…”

He trailed off, but Jason picked up his line of thinking.

“Kataigida is home to hundreds of millions of people,” he quietly stated. “Those who have awakened blood make up a small fraction of that number. Those without inborn power, despite being the vast majority of the population, are politically powerless.”

Leon cocked an eyebrow. That didn’t quite track with what he’d seen on his tour through the Ten Tribes, but he supposed Jason was being hyperbolic. The people he’d seen had all delighted in his presence, and rarely had he ever witnessed any strife between the people and their leaders. In fact, there were enough seventh-tier mages around that the people could often choose their Clan leadership, if not their Tribal leadership as well. And their very presence on the Tribal Council of the Jaguars proved that they could rise to that point.

Still, he could see their point. Those with awakened blood formed almost a ruling caste above those who didn’t have that power. It may be possible for one without awakened blood to reach the position of elder, but it was still prohibitively difficult.

“Is this why you voted against me?” Leon asked.

“It is,” Jason said, and Leon couldn’t see any deceit in his demeanor. Narses shifted uncomfortably in his seat, though, so Leon got the impression that it wasn’t the only reason that all three voted against him, but he wasn’t going to press.

“I am the King of all the Ten Tribes,” Leon said after a moment’s thought. “I am not just the King of those with awakened blood. Those without awakened blood have nothing to fear from me, and indeed, have much to gain. The changes I’m going to be making to this confederation will have more room than those with bloodlines can possibly fill, even if I were to give them special treatment. Which I don’t plan on doing.”

“That’s great to hear,” Andros stated. “I hope to see it.”

Leon grinned. “I would pardon you if you had done anything that was in need of pardoning. The Jaguars are still furious, but I’ll speak with them to let this one go.” Leon smiled and almost stopped there, but after a moment of silence, he added, “Just… be careful about how you go about how you anger the Tribes again. I don’t plan on taking away all their power, after all.”

The three elders quietly nodded.

Without much more to say, Leon got to his feet, followed a moment later by his ladies. “It was good to speak with you three,” he said. “If you have any concerns, feel free to seek me out. I’ll always have time for elders.”

“A generous offer,” Jason said as he and the other two elders shot to their feet in the wake of Leon’s rising. “I pray to the Ancestors that such counsel isn’t needed.”

“If only that were so,” Leon replied with a self-deprecating smile. “No one can do everything, and I am no exception.”

He clapped Jason on the shoulder, which the elder didn’t look too comfortable with, and made for the exit. The elders wordlessly escorted him to the door, and with nothing more than a glance and a good-natured smile, Leon, his ladies, and the Tempest Knights who’d accompanied them took their leave.

---

Iron-Striker. He hadn’t gone by that name in decades. He’d gotten rather used to being known as the Thunderer.

But that wasn’t him anymore. The new King had returned his old name, his old identity, to him, and had given him no small amount of trust.

Iron-Striker was determined to prove that it was a wise decision. If he didn’t, then his new King might not trust him with such things in the future, and Iron-Striker didn’t want to even imagine where that road might lead them.

So, when Leon directed him to go to Bear territory and bring it under control, Iron-Striker left shortly after, though not without some parting words from his favorite Jaguar.

If he betrayed Leon or the coalition that backed him, the Jaguar would hunt him down—or so the man himself had told him. Iron-Striker, even as he crested over some hills and came within sight of Raidankana, couldn’t help but smile when he remembered that confrontation.

The idea that he would betray his people like that was absurd. He may not be happy with their decision, but the elders had spoken. Leon was their King, and Iron-Striker would serve to the best of his ability, for the benefit of all the people of the Ten Tribes. He could live with someone else in charge, so long as what needed to be done was done.

Such thoughts drifted away as Iron-Striker and the small handful of followers that he retained entered Raidankana’s airspace. It had been a long time since he’d been in the capital city of his Tribe, and it hadn’t changed much. Most districts were built around a massive animal pen in which beasts of all sizes and shapes were quartered. All buildings had some kind of stable, but it was in these massive pens that the Bears bred and trained their war beasts.

Many of them were sadly empty, lying dark and silent in the darkness of the early evening. The Bears hadn’t managed to regenerate their numbers since the last great war between the Tribes and the barbarians from across the sea, and nowhere was it more apparent than in Raidankana, whose ruins and abandoned districts sprawled out across the plain.

But the city was still mostly inhabited, and it was to the most inhabited district that Iron-Striker flew.

He wasn’t in the least bit subtle as he flew over the city, and by the time he came in for a landing, many of the city’s leadership had come out to meet him. Most of the Tribe’s elders and Chiefs had gone to the border between Jaguar territory and their own following the failed vote, and Iron-Striker thought he knew why. But the Tribe’s most powerful elders had returned here, and it was them that Iron-Striker needed to speak with.

In front of the throngs of Bear mages that came out to greet him were the Tribe’s four ninth-tier mages, led by the Beast Lord.

“Lord Thunder,” the Beast Lord called out in greeting as Iron-Striker landed. A flash of anger lanced through Iron-Striker’s heart, but he gave none of it away. “It’s good to have you back home,” the Beast Lord continued. “Perhaps now we can finally get s—”

“You are to immediately stand down,” Iron-Striker demanded, interrupting the other elder. “There will be no war on Kataigida.”

The Beast Lord and the other three elders stared at him in shock.

“What are you saying?” the Beast Lord inquired in complete disbelief. “All that we’ve done is now in RUINS! The Jaguars have launched a successful coup! We must strike back if we are to save the Ten Tribes from their puppet King!”

Iron-Striker stood there and listened, his face impassive, his aura calm. When the Beast Lord, now worked up into something of a fury, finished, Iron-Striker spoke in a much calmer cadence.

“What we’ve done in these past few decades brings me great pride. Our work was not done, to be sure, but we have the opportunity to continue it under the King.”

“The usurper!” the Beast Lord insisted, drawing some sporadic agreement from the watching masses.

“Leon is our rightful King,” Iron-Striker said. “The Elder Council determined that to be so. I am no longer Thunderer, I have reclaimed the name ‘Iron-Striker’. There is no valid way to change our system except from within. Violent change is not something I will ever allow! I will not allow my own Tribe to start a war that I have worked so long to avoid!”

“You can’t be serious…” the Beast Lord said. “Listen to yourself! Where is the man who campaigned so hard to be elected Thunderer in the first place? Where is the man who elevated the Bears more with his own hand than anyone else has in the past thousand years?!”

“I have done nothing for the sake of the Booming Bear Tribe!” Iron-Striker thundered. “As I have always done, I work for the benefit of all the Ten Tribes! We are one people! No more, no less! Beast Lord, you will stand down at once!”

“I will NOT!” the Beast Lord roared, but as he was conjuring his ax, Iron-Striker called upon the power that Leon had given him before he’d left.

Magic power spiraled about his soul realm and found the massive, extraordinarily complex enchantment that he’d constructed within, and began to power it. Red fur that matched the hue of his hair sprouted all over Iron-Striker’s body, and he rapidly grew in size. His fingernails extended to bear’s claws, his face elongated into a snout, and his ears rounded and were pulled into a different position.

He was already a large man, but in a matter of a couple seconds, to the shock of the hundreds of watching Bear mages, Iron-Striker’s already large and muscular body had erupted into that of a massive bear, his fur gleaming in the moonlight, streaks of subtly-glowing silver fur emanating from his heart all over his body. His aura, already tremendous thanks to his tier, had grown even fiercer, and power suffused his limbs. His eyes shone with a bright white light, causing any who looked into them to hear the distant roars of all the fearsome creatures that the Booming Brown Bear had killed in its long life.

In this new body, he was stronger than he’d ever been, and he was not afraid to use that strength.

He lumbered forward with deceptive grace and smashed into the Beast Lord. To his credit, as a ninth-tier mage, he took the blow quite well, but Iron-Striker swiped a claw at him, knocking him onto his back. Iron-Striker surged forward until he stood on top of the Beast Lord and glared down at him without a shred of mercy.

[All threats to the Ten Tribes will be dealt with,] he growled, accompanying his silent words with an actual growl. True to the name of his Ancestor, his growl was so loud that it echoed across half the city and caused many of the weaker mages assembled to greet him to faint.

The Beast Lord himself snarled back, but after a moment, relaxed and pulled his ax back into his soul realm.

Iron-Striker, however, didn’t get off him. Instead, he turned his gaze first to the other three ninth-tier mages, and when all of them professed their lack of violent intentions, he turned to everyone else.

None of his other Tribesmen appeared willing to come to the Beast Lord’s aid.

[Our army will stand down!] Iron-Striker roared into their minds. [They will return home at once!]

This time, in the face of the very image of their Ancestor, his order was followed, with what few other elders were present scrambling to send off the appropriate messages.

Turning back to the Beast Lord, Iron-Striker said, [I intend to bring forth a vote to reclaim my old position as Lawspeaker. Do you object?]

The Beast Lord looked down at Iron-Striker’s claws pressing down upon his chest. It would be the easiest thing for Iron-Striker to slice into his chest, shatter his ribs, and julienne his heart, and Iron-Striker could see that the Beast Lord knew this.

The Beast Lord slowly shook his head.

If Iron-Striker could’ve smiled at that point, he would’ve. Violence had its place, but it certainly wasn’t among the Tribes.

He returned to his human form and helped the Beast Lord up, who now looked utterly defeated. Iron-Striker felt like getting him to retire would be for everyone’s best, but that could wait for a little while. For now, he had to get his Tribe back into shape. It seemed things had deteriorated quite a bit in the time he’d been focused on the Ten Tribes as a whole.

‘A man who can’t keep his house in order has no business organizing the homes of others…’

He had heard disturbing rumors that the Beast Lord had released dangerous beasts into Hawk lands to try and increase their dependence on the Bears. He’d have to ascertain the truth of this and if it was true, then he might not allow the man to retire at all…

And once all was back in order and everyone could breathe easier knowing that nothing would disturb the peace between the Tribes, he would return to Stormhollow. Leon had seemed quite forthright in his desire to be a good King for the Ten Tribes and in his apparent support for Iron-Striker’s attempts to centralize power within the Tribes, but Iron-Striker still wanted to be there to make sure that their young King didn’t lose sight of the right path.

Especially since he seemed equally as forthright in his desire to make peace between the Ten Tribes and the Empires.

‘This shouldn’t take more than a month or two…’ Iron-Striker thought to himself as he turned his eyes back to Stormhollow. For just a moment, a spark of hope raced through him. The obstinance of the Tribes in resisting the changes they needed to undergo to make it to the future had nearly convinced him that his dream of seeing the Tribes united was dead.

But it seemed he’d found just a little bit more…

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