The time to leave Khosrow’s Fane quickly loomed, but not quickly enough for Leon’s tastes. He found the entire place quite distasteful, and while he felt some regret at not seeing the War Gallery or taking his ladies through the forums that Valeria had mentioned, he wouldn’t look back once the demiplane was behind them.

After leaving the meeting with Sasan and Akeron, Mhar escorted Leon’s small group back to Storm Herald, ensuring a degree of peace that Leon wouldn’t have otherwise expected, even with Sasan’s reassurances. The former werewolf chatted at length with them, and seemed quite sad to say his goodbyes, but Sasan was his Lord—and considering how startling his rate of ascension was, Sasan was a generous and knowledgeable Lord—and he had other duties to see to.

Once back, Leon didn’t spend much time relaxing in the ark, however. Instead, he invited Gwarim over and gave him a tour that didn’t include the ark’s more sensitive systems. Once that was over, he and Gwarim took their retainers and personally visited N’chezzar, Ramin, and the other Storm Lords who had so readily sallied out to reinforce them during their extraction of Ingrid. Ingrid herself was still with Archelaus, trying to contact her Despotate as far as he knew, and Leon was more than willing to offer them both continued hospitality.

While visiting Ramin, Leon learned that Ramin was eager to move on—apparently, he was having a concerning amount of trouble reaching Drenthor, and if the man wasn’t at Belicenion, then Ramin was intending to simply skip the Games and personally go and see what was going on with his friend. Leon found the attitude quite admirable, and he readily agreed with Ramin’s decision to leave Khosrow’s Fane the following morning.

The rest of the Storm Lords in their convoy agreed, too, since no one was feeling particularly safe in Khosrow’s Fane after nearly starting a war in the fane’s streets. With all of them in agreement, Leon then returned to Storm Herald, where Miuna was waiting for him. She asked to join him on his ark for the final leg of the journey—sans the friends she’d brought the first time, but with a couple dozen of her handmaids who joined with his Queens’ attendants—and while he was tempted to deny her since he felt like she was growing a bit too close, he decided to allow it. Even if he had no romantic feelings for her, she was still a friend.

Once she joined his wives and they started discussing Sasan—whom Miuna had, oddly enough given his power, never heard of—he was called away by a request to speak from Ingrid. Accompanied by Anna and Daryun, he left the ladies to their own devices and went to hear what his fellow Storm Lord wanted to say.

He found Ingrid alone in her quarters. Storm Herald was an enormous ark, but her crew was quite large, too, which meant that space was at a premium. Ingrid had been given the same quarters that, according to Nestor, would’ve been reserved for Thunderbird elders in ages past, but even those were relatively small. When he walked in, however, it seemed almost cavernously large.

Ingrid had sat next to the projected window in a plush armchair that she partially sank into. Most of the other lights in the cabin were off, and the window’s halo effect helped to make her seem tiny. She was practically a shadow against the bright backdrop of the shining city that Leon had come to detest.

Her eyes were locked onto the practically glowing buildings, their parks and gardens and artificial rivers, but she was so in her head that she practically jumped out of her chair upon his arrival.

“Ah, Despot Leon!” she cried.

“Please, no need to be so startled,” Leon said as he silently ordered Anna and Daryun to remain outside.

“I was just…” she whispered, but her voice trailed off, and she sank back into the chair. Once the door closed behind Leon, isolating them from the outside world, she hunched over slightly and let out a long, tired sigh.

After waiting in vain for her to continue, or at least to get to why she’d asked for his presence, Leon asked, “Have any success in reaching your Despotate?”

“Not yet,” she said. “The Great Strand of Lux has always been kind of terrible at reaching the Storm Lords. It’s one of the few Great Strands where no Storm Lord has any holdings that might relay a message. I’m… alone…”

A feeling of incredible self-awareness flooded Leon’s mind as she said that, and he became suddenly conscious of where he was standing and what the power dynamics between them were.

“If you’re thinking about leaving the ark—” he said, but she cut him off.

“I’m not,” she insisted. “I fully intend to impose my presence upon you at least until we reach Belicenion. In fact, I’m counting on your presence here…” Her tone shifted into something a little more vicious, a little more direct, and Leon could sense that they were coming to the point of their meeting.

“Mikaela-of-the-Dancing-Tree,” she said, her eyes seeming to burn in the relative darkness. “Do you know who that is?”

“The name doesn’t ring a bell,” Leon admitted with a curious look as he moved to stand by the window.

“She’s the bitch who stole my man,” Ingrid spat. She looked ready to launch into a violent tirade, but after taking a moment to compose herself, she explained, “I am from a place that values matrimony, Leon Raime. You have multiple wives, I understand, so I don’t expect you to quite get this, but… marriage is sacred to me. I gave all of myself to Vrothgar. I expected him to do the same. He promised to do the same! He never gave me any indi—” Again, she cut herself off, and steadied herself with a long breath.

She continued, “There were no indications that anything was wrong. Or maybe I was just… maybe there were indications, but I was too busy to see them.”

Seeing how troubled she was in forming the right words, Leon took advantage of a small pause to say, “If you don’t want to get into specifics, you don’t have to. You don’t have to justify yourself to me.”

She smiled, her cheeks widening enough to be seen even in the darkness. “I think I can see why you managed to convince four gorgeous women to share you.”

“They convinced themselves,” he said. “And each other, too.”

She laughed again, this one a bit cheerier than the last. “That’s… remarkable.”

Leon nodded, a smile gracing his face, too. “They are the best things that have ever happened to me. I couldn’t imagine life without them.”

“I know the feeling,” she said as her mood, momentarily raised, fell again. “Not to make this all about me, but…”

“Please, tell me what’s on your mind.”

She crossed both her arms and legs, emphasizing, whether intentionally or not, her athletic and lithe body. She wasn’t as generously endowed as Leon’s ladies, but she possessed a noble and athletic beauty that was hard to deny.

“Mikaela’s more beautiful than me,” she said through clenched teeth. “Face of a goddess, tits out to here… If Vro left me just because she’s more beautiful, then I wouldn’t blame him.”

“Really?” Leon asked with a raised eyebrow.

She snorted. “Maybe not, but I could be persuaded. But… I’m still seriously angry, Leon. Vro wasn’t just my husband; he was one of my Strategoi! And he stole my arks when he left for that big-tittied bitch! If he wanted to leave me, I’d scream until I went hoarse, but I’d… eventually… let him. But he didn’t just leave me; he abandoned me as a triple-finned gnasher takes a frond heron: suddenly and brutally. This demands retribution. I demand retribution. Against him and that whore. But… I don’t have the means.”

“Do you not have armies and fleets?” Leon asked.

“Many,” she admitted. “But they are far away, and after my own husband left me, after my arks abandoned me to follow him, I hesitate to call upon them immediately, even if I could. I’ll need time back home to ensure their loyalty and to root out any of Vro’s cronies who didn’t have the good sense to leave when he did.”

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Her tone suggested that her purge would be bloody, but Leon wasn’t going to judge.

“What’s more…” she pressed on, “Mikaela is a trusted confidant of Gale Queen Esmerelda. I can’t speak to that, but I can say that Mikaela is personally sworn to the Gale Queen rather than any other Lord.”

“Sounds like a powerful enemy to have,” Leon stated.

“It’s worse than that,” Ingrid said. “I’ve heard rumors that Mikaela is Esmerelda’s cousin. Distant cousin, but they’re still blood, if my source was right.”

“That would handily explain the trust. Family can make for a monarch’s most loyal supporters.”

Ingrid sighed and nodded in agreement. “And that means that Mikaela is beyond my reach, and by extension, Vrothgar.” She sat up straighter, her gaze sharpening. “But that’s if I act alone…”

Leon locked eyes with her, sensing what she was getting at. “You… want me to antagonize the Gale Queen by targeting her cousin?”

“No,” Ingrid quickly replied. “I want you to help me in regaining my honor and punishing my fleet-hearted husband and his busty whore. If done… properly, no one will be killed, my honor will be restored, and Esmerelda won’t have any official recourse for retaliation.”

“Official recourse,” Leon repeated.

Ingrid shrugged. “She’s still the Gale Queen. I understand if you don’t want to help me, but I’ll make it worth your while if you do.”

“What could be so valuable that it would make this risk attractive?” Leon asked, his voice lilting in challenge.

“Everything,” Ingrid said. “Everything, that is, except my heart and my family. Vrothgar… isn’t just abandoning me, he’s also abandoning our daughter.”

“You two have a child?” Leon asked in alarm.

“Yes,” she confirmed with a warm smile. “Born only two years ago. It took us a century of trying to finally conceive, and when we did, I thought our family had been strengthened beyond all doubt. But…”

She paused again, and Leon swiftly changed tack. “What is this ‘process’, then? By which you’ll regain your honor?”

“A duel,” Ingrid said. “I believe you’re already familiar with the way it’s conducted?”

Leon quietly scoffed as he recalled Triyr and Morui, who both had yet to fulfill their ends of the struck bargain.

Ingrid explained, “With so many Lords present, grievances old and new were bound to flare up. To spare the Games and keep the peace, the Sun King established several procedures through which disputes could be resolved quickly and fairly, the most drastic of which is the sanctioned duel.”

“You intend to challenge Mikaela?” Leon asked. “Or Vrothgar?”

“Maybe both,” Ingrid said. “I’ll need a second. I’m asking for that second to be you.”

“How much would be expected of me?” Leon asked. “On Voidshore, Gwarim was my second, but he only had to fight if I backed down—which I didn’t.”

“That’ll depend on the terms of the duel,” Ingrid admitted. “That’s why I have to be sure of my second. It will be within reason, so Esmerelda won’t send an Anax to defend her cousin, but she might send another Despot or two to back up those cheating fornicators.”

“That sounds… doable,” Leon said. “But that’s not an agreement…”

“Right. Payment, then. Our territories are close—at least, in the Nexus. I can offer favorable trade deals if that’s your desire, but what I’m willing to give to restore my honor… You claim to be the heir of the Thunderbird, don’t you?”

A half-smile plucked one of the corners of Leon’s mouth, and he raised a hand at the same time. Silver-blue lightning flickered through his fingers, and he said, “It’s no mere claim. This is the power of the Thunderbird.”

“I wouldn’t know it from any other similarly-colored lightning,” she said. She raised her own hand and conjured her red-gold lightning for a moment, grinning as their powers filled the room with static. “But if that’s your claim, then if you help me with this matter… I’ll support it.”

Leon’s eyebrows steadily rose in surprise. “By support… what do you mean by that? You owe a Basileus your fealty, don’t you? So surely you’re not floating the idea of defecting to me…”

“Not immediately,” she said. “But I’m sure you have your eyes on the throne of the Storm Lands. For now, I can make an alliance with you as nominal equals. But when you’ve gained power and can protect me from any other Lord… then I’ll swear my fealty to you as the Storm Lords of old did to Jason Keraunos, to his uncle Philip Antitheus, and the host of Thunderbird Storm Kings before him.”

Leon’s eyes widened in shock, and he momentarily floundered as he searched for the right words. Fealty just for participating in a duel… On the other hand, he knew that honor and pride were both incredibly valuable, especially to a monarch…

“You…” he sputtered. “You’re… offering something that may never come.”

“The alliance can be immediate,” Ingrid offered. “A defensive pact at least. Should you require it, I’ll even devote certain assets to support your campaigns. Fleets, armies, all in line with the task at hand. Just… all you need to do is help me regain my honor.”

After taking a moment to compose himself, Leon smiled and said, “I’ll accept an alliance, so long as it comes with your friendship. Anything after that… we can discuss when the time is right.”

Ingrid sprang to her feet and offered her arm. “Then let it be settled. We enter into an alliance here and now.”

Leon was sure that he was about to give others, like Clear and Iron-Striker, conniptions by not getting specifics and hard promises, but he enthusiastically extended his own arm and clasped Ingrid’s wrist.

And like that, their alliance was cemented.

---

Busy. He’d been so damned busy for so long that he’d almost forgotten the simple pleasure of doing nothing but stare out of an open window, letting the warm air brush against his face, his eyes following the people below as they scurried about their business, his thoughts meandering to wherever they pleased.

Time was short, however, and soon, Akeron entered the spartan room that he’d taken for his own—the priests would’ve offered him anything that they had the power to give, but he’d chosen this simple place to lay his head. Anything more would’ve left him feeling like he was taking advantage of them. He’d certainly lived luxuriously in his long life, but he found that he was happiest when his conditions most resembled those of his youth, when he had little in the way of material comfort, but when his parents and siblings were still around.

“Sasan,” his friend whispered. “I’m afraid it’s time for us to go. The eruption is due in only a few days.”

Sasan sighed. Akeron would accompany him partway, but he was still expected at the Belicenian Games, and several events after. He had all the duties of an Anax to see to, and from what little he knew of Gale Queen Esmerelda, he had no doubt that Akeron was going to have his work cut out for him just keeping that flighty woman off his back.

‘A shame,’ he thought. He would’ve liked to have the man renowned as the universe’s best swordsman along with him for this next journey.

“I’ll be right there,” he assured the fifteenth-tier mage. “Just give me another minute.”

Akeron smiled and bowed his head in assent, then left.

But Sasan wasn’t left alone. A presence seemed to congeal out of nowhere several feet behind him, dark and foreboding, tinged with the scent of an Aesii’s ghostly waters.

“Veles,” Sasan said.

“My Lord,” Veles replied, his deathly pale skin practically glowing in the light from the window, in stark contrast to his dull, coal-black eyes.

“Is there something you need?” Sasan asked pleasantly as arks in the arkyards mounted on Lumenite bands began to move en masse—a large convoy of Storm and Ocean Lords was preparing to depart, he was given to understand.

Veles was silent for a long time, but Sasan could sense that his attention wasn’t on him.

“That man you spoke with…” Veles whispered. “The one leaving now…”

“Leon?” Sasan asked.

The pale man nodded, his expression, normally impassive and reserved, like that of an impartial god, momentarily flickered into something almost… human. Seeing so recognizable an expression on the man had Sasan almost reeling in surprise—but it was nothing compared to what Veles said next.

“He… saw me…”

Sasan fully turned away from the window to regard the other man closely, his eyes as wide as dinner plates. “He saw you?!” he exclaimed.

“Yes,” Veles confirmed, his voice still carrying the undercurrents of actual emotion, something rarer than almost anything Sasan had ever experienced in his life.

“How?!” Sasan asked in wonder. After a moment of thought, however, he turned back to the window to watch Leon’s large ark separate itself from the arkyard and push out into the black of the Void, while a potential thought pricked at his brain.

Confirming his suspicion, Veles said, “He knows death. Somehow, I don’t know. He could never have seen me otherwise.”

“Interesting…” Sasan whispered as he stroked his beard, possibilities racing through his mind. “When I spoke with him, I was left with the feeling that, with some direction, he could be made into a great champion of humanity. Maybe even bring him into our Great Endeavor. Unfortunately, if he has power connected with death, then I’ll be the only one who can truly do that. Not even Akeron can handle that implication…”

He went silent for long enough that Veles asked, “What should we do? Such power…”

‘… can’t be left unattended…’ Sasan silently finished.

“Keep an eye on him,” he finally said. “Don’t get too close, don’t let him know that you’re there. I leave forthwith to try and acquire a fire confluence. I’ll… I’ll handle Leon when I return. Hopefully then, he can be the sort of champion that I’ll need. That humanity will need.”

“How long will that take?” Veles asked.

“It took a thousand for the water confluence,” Sasan said. “Ten thousand for earth. Only fifty for lightning, thanks to the very man that we’re discussing. His insights should help with this new confluence, but I still can’t say. I will be gone for as long as I must be to acquire what we need.”

“The Storm Lords are a belligerent bunch,” Veles quietly said. “If he should fall before you return?”

“He won’t,” Sasan stated. “Not if he knows death.”

With that certainty in his heart, Sasan departed Khosrow’s Fane, leaving Veles to carry out his command. After what Veles had done for him in his moment of greatest need, Sasan trusted no one more. He left with a light heart, knowing that humanity was inching closer to its destiny, to the future that he’d long envisioned. Only three more confluences to go, and if he was lucky, he could have them all by the Nexus’ next Reconstitution…