The Storm King

Fiddling with the buttons on his coat, Leon growled, “I hate it.”

“You don’t,” Elise replied, her voice lilting in a sing-song manner.

“I do,” Leon shot back as he glared at his reflection. “It’s too much.”

“It’s not enough,” Elise countered. “You should be wearing more.”

After a quiet sigh, Leon murmured, “They should be grateful if I showed up at all. What I’m wearing has no bearing on anything at all.”

He was bedecked in pants and a tight doublet of blue silkgrass, images of the Thunderbird embroidered all over the doublet in silver thread. About his shoulders hung a cloak made from one of the white snow lion pelts Torfinn had gifted him, and around his neck hung the lightning bolt-shaped necklace with inset sapphires that Elise had given him as his wedding present.

All of this he could tolerate. Perhaps a little more ostentatious than his usual style, but acceptable. Had his attire consisted only of this, he wouldn’t be complaining.

Over his doublet was a long coat made of dark leather so weighed down with silver embroidery that Leon almost felt like he was wearing armor just from how it sat upon his shoulders. His boots were of fine make, and plated in silver embossed with designs that evoked a raptor’s talons, while dozens of tiny storm crystals blazed with contained power in the rivet heads of every plate. His arms were likewise covered in arm rings, and more rings adorned his fingers, which were themselves obscured by silkgrass gloves so finely woven that they shimmered in the light of his portable villa. Three more amulets hung next to Elise’s around his neck, one made of gold with a large sapphire set in the middle, another of platinum forged in the shape of the Thunderbird’s head, and the final amulet was a disc-shaped storm crystal that glowed blue-white with power.

‘At least no one’s trying to make me wear a crown,’ he thought cynically.

While he stared at his gaudy appearance, Elise’s hands wound around his midsection, and she pushed herself onto her toes and rested her chin on his shoulder.

“You’re a powerful King,” she said, a wide smile of encouragement winding across her heart-shaped face. “You’re wealthy and strong. You should look the part to prevent anyone from forming… incorrect opinions.”

Cassandra sat not too far away, one of her handmaidens braiding her hair after returning it to its natural golden blond color.

“Elise is right, Leon,” she opined. “If one doesn’t show off one’s power, then someone might think them weaker than they are. That could invite trouble.” She sat up a little straighter and shot Elise a knowing look. “You need to start wearing a crown, too.” The crown of Penthesilea appeared about her blond brow, the glowing red ruby set in the center of the thick gold band looking almost like a third eye upon her forehead. It slightly inconvenienced her handmaiden but made her point—thanks to the enchantments of the crown, she seemed to glow like a goddess in human form, while what few shadows remained around her form deepened, using subtle tricks of light to trim her waist and enhance her hips and bust instead of outright light projections.

Despite this, Leon rolled his eyes. “If they don’t have a good idea of my power just from looking at me, then they’re so blind that gold and silver will be meaningless. Magic is my crown, and my aura my ceremonial garb.” In a flash of light, the three spare amulets vanished from around his neck and reappeared on the table in front of him.

Looking scandalized, Elise cried out, “But those are so nice! I picked them out myself!”

Leon sighed and sent a wordless plea for help to Valeria, who was dressed as simply as he would’ve liked to be—court shoes, pants, and a tight-fitting blouse, all blue. Her long silver hair had been collected into a loose bun, and the only jewelry she wore was a thin silver chain glittering with amethysts and a pair of silver wristbands embossed with images of birds in flight. Simple, comfortable, though still of obvious quality.

In response, Valeria only smirked, leaving him to his fate.

Maia, meanwhile, lounged in a nearby bath, her eyes closed, not a stitch of clothing on her—not that anyone seemed to care, anyway. She didn’t seem to be listening at all to what was going on.

In short, this was a battle that Leon had to fight on his own.

Turning back to his fire-haired wife, Leon stated conciliatingly, “They’re lovely. But all of them at once?”

“The gaudier, the better,” she insisted, pouting cutely. “No King is a true King if he looks like he has any fashion sense at all.”

“Painting with a broad brush, aren’t you?” Cassandra wondered. “There’s nothing wrong with liking gold!” She crossed her arms, causing her cloak of cloth of gold to shift around her shoulders.

Leon made a dissatisfied noise, and then off came his rings, arm rings, gloves, boots, and coat. Replacing his boots was a more practical pair, though still of fine make, while nothing else was replaced. “Good enough,” he stated before he turned around and took Elise into his arms. He lightly kissed her sulking lips and said, “You look amazing.”

“You’re deflecting,” she countered, though her pout faltered slightly as her smile fought to reassert itself. Though she typically wore black or dark red, she was now wearing silver and blue, matching Leon. Her dress was tight where it needed to be, and loose everywhere else, while practically her entire body sparkled from the jewelry she wore.

“I’d rather we made an accurate first impression than go overboard and wind up looking foolish,” Leon said. “You… look incredible. You could wear a burlap sack and still look like a Queen, and that is no sack.” To punctuate his statement, he ran his hands up and down her body before letting them settle at her hips.

She let out a quiet moan of pleasure and dejection. “If only we had more time…” she whispered before straightening up, all traces of levity vanishing from her demeanor. “Cassie, are you ready?” she asked, glancing at the woman in question.

Cassandra glanced at her handmaiden, who nodded quickly, her work having just finished. The Imperial Princess then shot to her feet and grinned. “This ‘Presiding Magus’ had better be ready to kiss the ground because I’m looking divine.”

Elise then turned her eyes toward Valeria. An arched eyebrow was all she needed, and Valeria nodded and smiled faintly, though confidently.

Finally, Elise turned to Maia in her bath. “Are you ready, my dearest river nymph?”

Maia lazily opened her eyes, grumbled incoherently for a few seconds, and then pulled herself out of the bath. Leon only had a moment to admire the view before a simple dress obscured it.

[Ready,] Maia said, though even her mental voice sounded tired of the court ceremony.

Elise’s enthusiasm was undeterred. “Then let’s go meet our new friends!”

“Or new enemies, if our luck holds,” Leon cynically quipped, which earned him a pinch on the arm.

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“Attitudes like that will make them our enemy,” Elise warned. “Welcoming smile! Generous attitude! Powerful demeanor!”

Cassandra scoffed as her handmaiden left the room. “I’ll have to disagree with you there, Eli. Better a noble bearing and stoic expression. Look like a god, and you’ll be treated like one.”

Valeria finally spoke, adding her opinion. “Or just keep practical matters in mind. This is no more than an introduction. No need to be more than strong and resolute.”

Elise looked like someone had just deliberately smudged a priceless work of art, but Leon much preferred Valeria’s way of thinking. He quickly agreed with her and then hurried his ladies out of the changing room. They still had some time before the Presiding Magus of Shatufan arrived, but as was the usual case with courts, it took some time to get everyone into place.

---

From his throne, Leon studied the newcomers closely, though he kept his expression stoic and neutral.

The first man to enter was, presumably, the Presiding Magus himself as he radiated tenth-tier power. Robes of fine gold he wore, and a red cloak emblazoned with a lion’s head sigil hung from his shoulders. He was fair of skin, though still a little tanner than Leon, while his hair fell about his face like dark curtains, reaching down to his cheekbones. His face was largely clean-shaven save for a thin, carefully-trimmed mustache.

With him were a dozen others, though only two seemed of note—both had fairly similar physical appearances to the first man, though one was dressed in pale green and the other in yellow.

As they approached the throne, Gaius stepped forward and declared, “You stand before Leon of House Raime, King of the Ten Tribes, the stone giants, the river nymphs, and the tree sprites, Lord of Artorion, and Last Heir of the Thunderbird Clan!”

Leon restrained his distaste for the long introduction and watched the newcomers. Only at the last title, where Leon’s lineage was made clear, did they noticeably react, and even then, it was fairly muted. The tenth-tier mage’s eyebrows rose slightly while the other two only exchanged quick looks that were hard to interpret.

Once they reached the designated place in front of Leon, separated by two dozen feet and a line of Tempest Knights, the green-clad man stepped forward.

“Well met, King Leon,” he said with a degree of confidence that Leon wasn’t sure he would’ve had if their positions were reversed—the man was only seventh-tier, for one, and for two, he was surrounded by other powerful mages, including Anastasios, Eva, and Clear Day. Still, he spoke clearly, though with a fairly strong accent. “Manuchehr I am, of the Ancient House Kashani. It is my honor to serve as the Presiding Magus of the West’s City of Gold, Shatufan!”

Leon’s golden eyes widened in surprise and flickered to the tenth-tier mage for a moment before resting again on Manuchehr.

Continuing, Manuchehr indicated first the tenth-tier mage, and then his sixth-tier yellow-clad fellow.

“Jamshid this is, of the Honorable House of Pishda; and Bahram, of the Golden House of Pedram. At the invitation of the gracious Clear Day, we are here, to our new neighbors ourselves and our storied city we introduce.”

“Well met,” Leon replied. “You are our guests, feel free to avail yourselves of my hospitality.”

From there, additional introductions were made, including to Leon’s wives. Manuchehr was nothing but gracious, while his two comrades were completely silent. Leon wondered at the implication there, for the seventh-tier mage to be taking such a lead while the tenth-tier mage was so quiet…

Regardless, Leon made sure that everyone else present in his court was respectful and not belligerent—the delegation from Shatufan had come in person, and that demanded a level of respect that Leon wanted to be reflected. In particular, he didn’t want anyone jumping down their throats for forgetting his title or style.

Eventually, the usual fluff surrounding introductions ended, leaving them able to approach more serious topics.

“Hopeful I am, that something wondrous this far south may be built,” Manuchehr professed. “Though, truthfully, about the south I worry.”

A thin smile spread across Leon’s face. He thought he could guess why, but he wanted to ask anyway.

“What makes you worry so?”

“Many attempts have been made over the past few millennia to these virgin lands settle,” Manuchehr explained as his eyes drifted to one of the projected windows in the hall. “By the Ocean King has every one of them been thwarted. Another failure I do not hope for…”

“Your worries are… founded,” Leon conceded. “We’ve already found examples of these past failures, and do not intend to join them.”

Manuchehr dipped his head in acknowledgment. “The pirates we heard about, and your victory we celebrated. Such barbarity your skill met, and in victory, your strength and tenacity was proven. Still, worried are we.”

Leon leaned forward, his smile growing slightly. “I believe that such worries are misplaced. As you’ve said, we’ve proven our strength and tenacity. However, just because we’re strong doesn’t mean that we don’t have room for friends. What do you say to that?”

Manuchehr glanced at his two companions. Jamshid continued to take Leon aback by hardly reacting, but Bahram angled his head and frowned slightly.

Turning his head back to Leon, Manuchehr asked, “A definition I ask for; many things ‘friendship’ can mean. Is… a friend of yours Alhamachim?”

“Friends are friends,” Leon stated. “No more or less. They hold no legal obligation to each other but still treat each other fairly. Open trade, freedom to travel, these are hallmarks of friendship to me.” He paused, his tone turning a little more serious. “Alhamachim can be described as a friend to Artorion, but they’re more than that: they pledged themselves to me, swearing themselves to me as their Strategos. They offer me tribute as my vassal just as they did for Djoser in years past, and in return, I grant them my protection and the autonomy to govern themselves as they please.”

“This Despot Archelaus condones?” Manuchehr asked with audible skepticism, though his expression remained friendly.

“He has,” Leon stated. “He even acknowledged me as a Strategos, though not one under his aegis.”

Manuchehr slowly nodded, his expression turning more serious. “The future, then, perhaps Archelaus has divined. Violent land this is, and though long absent from these lands the Ocean King has been, however, his attention your presence may draw.”

“A possibility, to be sure,” Leon responded. “But just as we did against the pirates, we’ll defend ourselves.” Around the room, his Tribal vassals stomped their feet a few times to declare their support for his statement. Drawing even more loud agreement, Leon continued, “This is our new home, and we’re going to fight for it. The Storm Lands is where we belong, where my Ancestors long ruled! We are not going to be forced out by a soggy King who’s uncomfortable with us settling here!”

The hall grew progressively louder until it practically exploded following Leon’s declaration. He appreciated the show, but it seemed it was their guests’ turn to be taken aback, and even look a little put off by the display.

Raising a hand was all Leon had to do to call for order, and when silence returned, he said, “We’re here to stay, Magus Manuchehr. You can count on that.”

Manuchehr smiled politely. “Trade you mentioned… Anything in mind do you have?”

Taking the change in topic in stride, Leon replied, “That’ll be up to our respective merchants. Personally, I’m interested in what I’ve heard about your city exporting Aurichalcum…”

Manuchehr’s smile dimmed slightly. “Yes. Coveted by many our wares are, and a high price they command. An agreement between us might be reached, should our price be met.”

Left unstated was his opinion on how Leon’s Kingdom might afford that price, but Leon was confident. There were plenty of materials that he considered too valuable to trade, but most of those were not yet produced in the Nexus anyway. Storm crystals, however, he could easily make with the Iron Needle and weren’t so dangerous that exporting them to other powers might present grave dangers.

“A gift, then,” Leon suggested as he located a large piece of storm crystal in his soul realm. Conjuring it into his hands, he said, “Take this back to your city. Show them what might be gained from trade with Artorion.”

With his elementless magic, Leon telekinetically floated the storm crystal down to Manuchehr, who closely examined it before gingerly taking it from Leon’s magical grasp. He didn’t look particularly impressed by what appeared to be polished, almost opaque dark-colored glass, and handed it to Jamshid, who gave it an inspection of his own before pulling it into his soul realm.

“Back to our city, we’ll take this,” Manuchehr diplomatically stated. “Decide on trade later, we will. But appreciated your gift is. Reciprocate, I hope you will allow us.” With a wave of his hand, he conjured a glasswork himself, though instead of a piece of strategic material, it was instead a large carving of an eagle in flight. The glass was colored beautifully, with the eagle’s feathers being a deep reddish-brown, while its eyes and talons were bright yellow. “For the Ancestor you claim,” he said.

Gaius walked over to take the glass sculpture, though Leon could see anger throughout the room—it was seen as a snub for Manuchehr to give something so apparently worthless compared to Leon’s gift. He didn’t mind, though, for he had a feeling they’d be back once they realized what the storm crystal could do for them.

With that exchange of gifts, the introduction ended. Leon offered the delegation continued hospitality, but instead of taking him up on it, Manuchehr claimed that they had to return home soon, and left that night.

It could’ve gone much better in Leon’s mind, but he quietly considered it a win that the delegation hadn’t left them with a declaration of war. At the very least, while they weren’t yet open to trading, the possibility remained that they’d change their mind.

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