The Storm King

Chapter 1092: Djoser

Soldiers streamed out of the arks, all wearing simple, though well-made breastplates, morion helmets, and bright doublets beneath colored red, green, yellow, and blue. In each soldier’s right hand was a long halberd, while on their left was a black glove fitted with dozens of enchanted gems that Leon guessed held power for some kind of offensive or defensive spell—a brute force approach to his modular gauntlet system, but one that was undoubtedly effective, if expensive.

Only after a hundred of these powerful—on average, they were seventh-tier—soldiers exited their arks and secured the forum did the more important men come walking out. First was Asa Hamil-Untar himself, dressed all in bright purple with a golden diadem about his brow that glittered with amethysts. His tenth-tier aura was radiant, though it only filled the forum for a moment before it was drowned out by the man who exited next.

Tall and well-built, Strategos Djoser cut an imposing figure. The dark-skinned man wasn’t particularly handsome, with weaker features than one might’ve wished for, but he wore upon his face an easy smile that lent him no small amount of roguish charm. His black hair was shorn close to his head, while he wore pure white loose-fitting robes. Around his neck hung more than a dozen pendants of gleaming gold and glittering silver, while every finger bore at least one ring, several of which Leon noted were made of Lumenite, and one of an orange-goldish material that he suspected was Aurichalcum if he remembered the metallurgical texts Nestor had had him read correctly.

Djoser’s aura lost in no way to Leon’s, and from the way he strutted down the ramp, it appeared that he had no doubts whatsoever that he was the strongest person in the city. It might’ve struck Leon as rather arrogant if he wasn’t waiting for these two men in a temple that had been heavily warded against outside surveillance.

Following Djoser came more than a dozen men in formal suits of the same garish color scheme as the soldiers, and one woman stronger than them all at the eighth-tier. She was dressed similarly, though she was armed only with a pen at the moment. She had severe features, and severely did she look around the forum, glaring at Leon’s Tempest Knights and particularly at Anzu.

“What is this?!” Asa shouted as he approached the Tempest Knights, though he notably didn’t dare stare at the two Ulta pilots for long. “Who are you? How dare you impede my progress into this great temple! I am the Speaker for this city! You will let me pass!”

Asa’s aura flexed and pressed against Anzu, but the albino griffin-in-human-form weathered the pressure spectacularly, neither budging an inch nor letting the smile on his face flicker for even a moment. That smile, however, did turn slightly more vicious when he responded to the self-proclaimed Speaker.

“There was an election, old man,” the griffin pointed out, derision dripping from his voice like blood from a victorious gladiator’s blade. “You lost.”

Asa’s face went red in less than a second, though it wasn’t until after he glanced around the forum—perhaps to ensure that no locals could witness him—before he responded. “I am the strongest man in the entire city! What the people vote for doesn’t matter; the title is mine by right! If you do not remove yourself from my path, then I will have you removed. And you will be unlikely to survive the process!”

With that spoken threat, the Tempest Knights visibly readied themselves for a fight, drawing attention from the new soldiers. Leon’s people were heavily outnumbered and outclassed, but they didn’t back down.

Violence didn’t break out, however, for Djoser’s aura gently settled down around them all, freezing all of Leon’s people in their place.

With a genial smile, Djoser stated in cavernously deep tones and a neutral accent that Leon could’ve heard almost anywhere amidst the Empires of Aeterna, “I’m sure there is some misunderstanding. These fine people are only here to worship fine and just Leth, to pay their respects to this city’s guardian deity.”

“Bah!” Asa exclaimed as Djoser’s aura lightened slightly. The former Speaker forced himself forward until he stood practically nose-to-nose with Anzu. Leon was amused to see that Anzu was slightly taller, forcing the disgraced politician to look up. “Cursed mongrel, what right do you have to bar my path?”

“More right than you have to remove me,” Anzu smoothly replied.

Before Asa could argue any further, the eighth-tier woman stepped forward and, after whipping her braided flaxen hair over her shoulder, declared, “The Strategos of this region, by the grace of Despot Archelaus, the honorable Djoser, son of Khafra, Lord of Ishtorpor, Ebonsand, and the Golden Mire, Savior of the High Hills, Captain of the Third Iron Order, and Friend of Alhamachim, has arrived to put to rest all questions of this city’s leadership! Our heart breaks for the people lost and harmed during this unfortunate raid, but now more than ever, we must set aside all petty grudges to ensure a smooth process of healing and reconstruction!”

“In other words,” Asa spat, “get out of my way, dog!”

Anzu smirked. “You call me a dog, yet you’re the one hiding beneath another’s table, begging to be thrown a bone. You are unwanted here, former Speaker. If you had any integrity, you’d return to Ishtorpor and not return to this city for a long while.”

“This is my city!” Asa insisted. He looked dialed and ready to start screaming at Anzu, but Djoser laid a hand on his shoulder and gently pulled him aside.

“This city is mine to set right,” Djoser said, almost towering over Anzu. His expression remained pleasant, but it wasn’t hard to spot the implicit threat from his aggressive posture and invasion of Anzu’s personal space. “Please. Step aside.” Though it was framed as a request, Djoser’s aura started to tighten around Anzu, clearly ready to toss him aside.

Leon, however, had other ideas. He flexed his own aura; the temple wards allowed his magic to pass since he was within their bounds, and upon crashing into Djoser’s aura, the unsuspecting man’s aura was rather roughly pushed back. Djoser himself remained on his feet, but the blond woman behind him, Asa, and several of his stronger soldiers were thrown back varying distances.

Djoser’s soldiers immediately formed up, pointing their halberds threateningly at Leon’s Tempest Knights, who prepared themselves in response. Anzu remained standing defiantly in front of the doors, which Leon telekinetically opened before the situation could deteriorate further. This little spectacle had already served its purpose, anyway.

“You three,” Leon commanded as his aura settled around Asa and the blond woman’s shoulders while having a much harder time wrestling with Djoser’s aura. “Enter.” His voice easily carried out of the temple’s main hall and into the forum, and the Tempest Knights had already started to relax before his echoes died.

Anzu, meanwhile, waited only another second before stepping out of Djoser’s way. The Strategos, meanwhile, spared not another glance at Leon’s brother and strode purposefully into the temple, the look of unchecked hubris from mere minutes ago now erased in favor of a decidedly graver expression. Such focus wasn’t reflected in Asa, as the former Speaker couldn’t help but glare at Anzu as he passed, but the blond woman quickly became laser-focused on Leon, who sat in his pseudo-throne at the far end of the hall. Asa seemed to quickly forget about Anzu when he turned his eyes upon Leon, too, his eyes growing wide as dinner plates and his footsteps faltering slightly as he entered the temple.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

Once all three walked in, Leon shut the temple doors without lifting a finger, sealing the temple from outside surveillance once again.

Tauri, sitting beside Leon in the smaller of the two chairs, rose, cleared his throat, and intoned as the other three approached the dais, “You now come 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! And now, acknowledged by the people’s Assembly, this governing body of the city of Alhamachim, the Strategos that the city of Alhamachim owes obeisance to!”

Asa’s jaw fell open, the blond woman stared incredulously at Leon, and Djoser audibly scoffed. “Impossible,” the Strategos claimed. “Despot Archelaus personally ordered the borders of my domain. No other Strategoi rule this region; only I do. In claiming this land, you pit yourself against the Despot of these lands.”

“These people requested my assistance in maintaining their autonomy,” Leon replied with an easy if somewhat provocative smile. “I accepted. They acknowledged me as their Strategos. Seems straightforward to me.”

A disbelieving grin spread across Djoser’s face. “You must be new here, ‘King’ Leon, ‘Last Heir of the Thunderbird’. If you weren’t a new arrival, you wouldn’t make such a preposterous claim about your lineage! So allow me to perform for you a service, for which you need not repay me: respect Khosrow’s Law, and challenge not your betters. Despot Archelaus is above us, and he has spoken: this is my

domain!”

“What gives this Despot the right to dictate such things?” Leon asked, his tone tinged with mocking sarcasm.

“Power,” Djoser easily replied. “Power, and the backing of Basileus Ramin. Back down, newcomer. I commend you for the strength it undoubtedly took to reach this high place, but you are out of your depth. You are not the largest lion in these plains…”

Leon retorted, “If you want to assert your authority over this city, then you will have to convince the Assembly of the virtues of following your lead. I am here at their request and have already accepted their offer of vassalization, but here and now, if you’re able to convince them to follow you instead of me, I’ll release them from their contract.” He paused and glanced around the room, making eye contact with most of the Assembly members. “But only if you can convince them now. I do not lightly make such offers.”

Djoser smiled thinly at Leon, his eyes flickering momentarily to the silent Clear Day watching from the sidelines, and said, “You have no respect for Khosrow’s Law, whelp. You will learn, in time, the way of things.” Addressing the Assembly now, Djoser declared, “This is your one chance, magisters of Alhamachim! Surrender to me before I return to Ishtorpor, and I will consider this matter ended! If you do not, then you are nothing more than a wounded gazelle, and I the lion in the grass! You will be at my mercy!”

One of the more nervous-looking Assembly members, who had to be a freshly ascended sixth-tier mage judging from his aura, asked in a shaking voice, “W-What… what will happen… if we d-do surrender to you?”

Djoser grinned and turned his eyes upon first Leon, and then Tauri. “You will acknowledge me as this city’s overlord! I am your Strategos! And my friend and associate, Asa Hamil-Untar, will be authorized to lead an investigation into your recent election!” He paused, chuckling under his breath. “Such sacred institutions must be kept pure and incorrupt! Should the jackals subvert the will of your people, only tyranny follows!”

“Our plains remain jackal free!” Tauri insisted before glaring at Asa. “Save for the one you brought!”

Djoser’s smile was all teeth when he glared at Tauri. “I have heard otherwise from my friend here. This is for your own good, my friend. Do not let power blind you to the needs of your people; you must know who has subverted your election! Think of the virtue you would display if you were to investigate the very election that supposedly put you in power! The commitment to the values and traditions held by your city!”

An old, crusty, sick-of-this-shit seventh-tier Assembly member growled, “Our election was safer than any conducted in the history of our city! To so blatantly lie is to insult our intelligence!”

“Watch how you speak to your Strategos!” the blond woman shouted furiously.

“Miranda,” Djoser interjected before the old Assembly member could shout back, “calm yourself. We will work our way through this. And I know

that all of these fine gentlemen will find within them the hearts of lions, not the blackened stones of jackals. They will see the truth.”

Silence fell upon the hall for a long moment as the Assembly members glanced at each other, none speaking aloud. Eventually, Tauri cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “As Speaker, then, I will announce our decision. Our contract with King Leon stands! We acknowledge him, and only him, as our Strategos! We reject your ultimatum and denounce Asa Hamil-Untar! For this naked attempt to subvert the will of our people and install himself as a tyrant, his citizenship is revoked! His property is forfeited to the people of Alhamachim! And he is banished forevermore from this city!”

No voices spoke up from the Assembly to defend Asa or to argue with Tauri, while Asa himself stared in abject shock at what Tauri had just declared.

Djoser, meanwhile, stared at Leon with narrowing eyes, then glanced once more at Clear Day. When he turned his dark eyes back to Leon, he said, “Only Despot Archelaus can create new Themata. You are not Strategos. I denounce you as illegitimate. Your rule over these lands runs counter to Khosrow’s Law! You are a traitor and base criminal! I demand you leave this city and never return! Begone to your den of thieves and whores and never trouble civilization again, you dog-faced jackal!”

“Leave?” Leon whispered with amusement and incredulousness. “No, I rather like it here. I think I’ll stay.”

Any hint of levity in Djoser’s attitude vanished. “So be it, jackal! I will leave here today in the interest of not causing undue harm to the people of this fine city, but I will return hence to enforce Khosrow’s sacred Law that binds us all together! The peace and stability of these lands will not be imperiled by the likes of an up-jumped, avaricious, arrogant, fool!” He paused to laugh several times. “And for you to claim the mantle of the Thunderbird! What lunacy! As if a mutt like you could ever claim so lofty a lineage!”

Djoser turned on his heel and began striding for the door. Asa looked ready to argue, but one of Djoser’s hands closed around his arm, and the Strategos dragged the former Speaker right out of the hall. Miranda lingered only a moment longer, just long enough to glare spitefully at Leon before turning to follow her Lord from the chamber.

No time was wasted once back in the light of the Origin Spark, with Djoser ordering his soldiers back aboard the arks before boarding himself. In a matter of minutes, the arks were taking off, turning eastward, and carrying their passengers back to Ishtorpor.

In their absence, the Assembly hall was deathly quiet.

“Well,” Leon stated, his voice echoing through the largely empty hall, “that went well, I’d say. Not a single spark of magic was exchanged. Remarkable.”

“He will come back,” Tauri darkly stated. “He… he will not take this lying down.”

“It was a hit to his pride,” the old Assemblyman added. “Fair though our city is, it’s little compared to what he has already. For his own pride, though, he will not let us go.”

“Then what will he do?” Leon asked. “Assemble an army? Come and try to take Alhamachim by force?”

“Unlikely,” Tauri answered. “There are… certain conventions that stand between Strategoi. And all those subject to Khosrow’s Law, really. Above all will be another. The higher-ranked will mediate, arbitrate, and control the lower ranks. Only the Elemental Kings can act with impunity. Since you are now Alhamachim’s Strategos, our affronted friend will appeal to Despot Archelaus on his behalf.”

“Smart,” Clear Day stated with a gentle grin. “If this Despot were to decree that King Leon cannot hold this land, he has the power to enforce that ruling.” He shrugged in Leon’s direction. “Better than going to war over the matter, isn’t it?”

“Certainly more efficient,” Leon replied, though he couldn’t help but feel almost annoyed on Archelaus’ behalf. When he achieved the rank of Despot—not if in his mind, but when—he wouldn’t want to deal with these kinds of petitions, even if he knew it was his responsibility to those beneath him on the totem pole. “Would Archelaus come here?”

“… No,” Tauri stated after a nervous glance around the room. “Despot Archelaus is… not particularly hands-on—not that I would ever expect him to take any kind of interest in this city, fair though it is, for our wealth is but a speck of gold in his treasury. Instead, I believe he will summon you to his capital at Archelion.”

“How far away is that?” Leon inquired.

“Some forty-thousand miles,” Tauri relayed. “He’ll probably also send someone to come and pick you up. When he summons people, he rarely wants to wait on them.”

Leon softly snorted and looked at Clear for a moment. “Sounds delightful. Let’s get ready, then. It seems we will have a meeting with a Despot in the future.”

“And if that doesn’t happen?” Anzu asked from the door where he’d been listening.

A vicious grin spread across Leon’s face even as anxiety pulsed in his heart. “Then I guess we’ll have to prepare for war…”