The Storm King

“So… does it… you know… taste good?” Marcus asked.

“I wouldn’t say so,” the Jaguar replied.

“It’s bitter,” Singer added. “It still tastes like blood, that doesn’t change. It can be a bit weaker, but it’s still a recognizable taste.”

Marcus gagged in disgust. “There are many things to envy about your transformation powers, but I’m glad at least that I don’t have to experience that.”

“It’s easily ignored in the moment,” the Jaguar said. “When the blood runs hot, you don’t really think too much about what your tongue is telling you. Have you ever thrown up a little in battle? From the smell, or otherwise?”

Marcus nodded, though his face turned a little greener.

“Tearing into someone in our animal forms isn’t too different, honestly. A bad taste, and one that has to be ignored for the sake of the mission.”

Leon grinned slightly. He felt he had a bit of an advantage in this area. “Certainly helps,” he said, “when your other form doesn’t have much of a sense of taste.”

“There’s a saving grace,” Marcus murmured, still looking like he was trying his best to hold onto his lunch.

Leon and his people had all returned to the main Tribal port on the southeastern edge of the Sword a few days after the battle. They were victorious in the battle off the eastern coast, and it was now time to see to the rest of the island. During that battle, though, other elements of the Tribal military had pushed at Imperial defenses, and seeing how that push had gone was the purpose of their meeting now. They—amounting to Leon and his retinue, the Chiefs and elders of the various Tribes’ armies, and the command staff of the central army—were just waiting on a few more people to arrive and had been chatting amongst themselves to kill some time. Somehow, the topic of killing humans with fang and beak came up, and Marcus was morbidly curious about how it tasted.

“It is,” the Jaguar said. “Fortunately, jaguars don’t have much of a sense of taste, either. I’m honestly unsure if I could even use my fangs on our enemies if that weren’t the case.”

“We pay a price for our transformations,” Leon said to Marcus, “and sometimes those prices turn out to be blessings in disguise. Hard to think of a weak sense of taste as being anything but a blessing when you sink your beak into an enemy’s neck.”

Marcus began to cough. “Right, right, consider my… hurrgh… curiosity sated.”

Leon chuckled softly and was about to say something more when Iron-Striker and his subordinates finally arrived. Most of the conversation in the room died down as several dozen of the most important men and women in Leon’s Kingdom acknowledged the Chancellor’s presence.

The Chancellor himself, meanwhile, paused a moment to give Leon a quick bow before taking a seat at one end of the table. Leon was already sitting at the other with the Jaguar to his right. His retainers were mostly standing, but Maia, Valeria, and Anzu were standing directly behind him in the place of most honor that wasn’t directly involved in the meeting.

“It’s good to see everyone here,” Iron-Striker said. “When we launched this quick defensive operation a few days ago, I dreaded the thought of seeing empty chairs upon our return.”

A palpable sense of relief and pride settled around the room. The counter-offensive had, of course, taken some casualties—and some of those casualties were quite highly ranked—but their losses so far hadn’t been that terrible. Judging the complete scale of those losses, however, was one of the reasons they were meeting here and now.

“By your leave, Your Majesty?” Iron-Striker asked.

Leon nodded first to him, and then to the Jaguar.

The Jaguar then stood and activated the light projection on the table, showing the entire Sword in great detail.

“The Imperial offensive in the east has been repulsed!” he declared, and the elders and Chiefs around the room laughed and stomped their feet for a few seconds in celebration. “The enemy has lost a full third of their committed fleet, as well as eleven war arks! Our King even killed one of their ninth-tier mages in battle! Thousands of their sailors and marines were swallowed first by the waves, and then by our war beasts! Our water mages have ensured that few, if any, made it to shore! Our supply line to our home island has been secured and reinforcements even now pour into this city and begin their deployment around the island!”

More stomping and cheering ensued as the Jaguar paused a moment.

The Jaguar allowed the celebratory atmosphere to persist for a few seconds before his expression grew grave. “Unfortunately,” he somberly intoned, “even the greatest of victories come with great cost. We lost ten thousand three hundred and twelve of our brothers and sisters, many thousands more injured or missing, fourteen Clan Chiefs, and three elders. Four heavy cruisers, two destroyers, and thirteen frigates were lost, as were many war beasts. Six war arks now decorate the bottom of the sea, as well. Nearly every ship in the fleet sustained damage of some kind, too, though many that were in danger of sinking were saved.”

Leon grimaced. That was a steep price to pay; steep enough that they’d not been able to pursue their vanquished foe even when they’d achieved not just the strategic but also the tactical victory. Rescuing their fellows in sinking ships and taking Imperial prisoners had taken priority, which allowed the Sunlit Emperor and the remains of his armada to escape.

“We should execute those we took prisoner,” one particularly bloodthirsty seventh-tier Tiger exclaimed. He was an officer of the central army, Leon thought, and lacked a bloodline, though his Tribal affiliation was clear enough from the tiger stripe tattoos visible even on the few bits of exposed skin he displayed. “An ocean of their blood for every drop of ours.”

There were some scattered shouts and stomps in support, but most eyes turned toward Leon before expressing anything.

And Leon glared at the seventh-tier Tiger, making his displeasure known without saying a word. Just to make things abundantly clear, he also growled, “We’re not executing prisoners of war. We’re not barbarians.”

The Tiger withered under Leon’s uncompromising glare, lowered his head, and said no more.

Leon glanced first to Iron-Striker, who gave him a nod of approval, and then back to the Jaguar. With a quick nod, he signaled for the Jaguar to continue.

“On our other fronts,” the Jaguar continued, looking like the previous exchange hadn’t happened, “we made some limited gains. Casualty reports are still coming in, but it seems we managed to push the Imperials back several miles in the interior of the island. Their war arks were deployed, however, and played a key role in halting our advance. Many of our units further west are even now retreating to previous defensive positions.”

The Jaguar’s eyes turned toward Iron-Striker, who’d been the one closest to that front and had first-hand knowledge of what had been accomplished.

“Many lives were lost for the gains we made,” Iron-Striker sadly said. “If anyone were to ask me if it was worth it, I would probably say no. Or not yet, at any rate.” Iron-Striker indicated the map, pointing to the easternmost push. “We have gotten closer to the fortress holding one of the Thunderbird arks, making a potential attack upon it easier.”

“Then that’s our new objective,” Leon decisively stated. “We have to hit it before that ark can be moved away from the front.”

Iron-Striker nodded and continued. “Our advances further west were stymied by supporting fire from the western fleets and by uncooperative terrain, which didn’t provide enough cover for us to seize much territory. The addition of our King’s MALLs ought to aid us in that endeavor.”

“I’ll provide what I have, but there aren’t many,” Leon said. Between himself and the rest of his retainers, they probably had less than a dozen MALLs—or, they did before the ambush on Leon’s ark which had seen not only the ark itself destroyed, but also four MALLs. Leon himself only had three more in his soul realm, and the rest were given to Alcander for the Tempest Knights’ use.

“The Ravens should have built some,” Iron-Striker said as he glanced at a seventh-tier Raven who was attending the meeting.

“My Tribe is still working on getting manufacturing up to scale,” the Raven replied. “Given a few more months, we’ll be able to build forty per month—assuming materials can keep up.”

Leon nodded in acknowledgment. Thunder wood was a critical component in making the heavily-armored MALLs viable. Without that material, they’d have to strip nearly all of the armor and get rid of the space for troops in the back to keep it mobile, and even then, its speed would drastically decrease, and its Lightning Lance would be significantly less powerful.

“Forty is still quite a few,” Marcus observed.

“And we have about sixty already spread across the front,” the Jaguar replied.

“What are the defenses like in the east?” Leon asked.

“Lines of smaller fortifications, covered by larger artillery pieces,” the Jaguar said as he waved at the projection and zoomed into the area in question. It quickly became apparent that they had less detail zoomed in, but the terrain features were at least more visible. “The area has been laced with explosive enchantments, making forward advance difficult. Our mages have to blast their way in to be safe.”

As he spoke, the Jaguar indicated the flat floodplains that extended for miles north of the river that the Ten Tribes had used as their primary defensive feature, and then the hills to the plains’ north where the Imperial fortifications started. Those fortifications were quite formidable despite their recent construction, thanks to Imperial magic engineers.

“And that’s assuming they’re not under fire from enemy Lances and war arks,” an eighth-tier Jaguar elder added.

“Then we’ll have to move by air,” Leon said. “Stay highly mobile and above the range of their Lances. MALLs and infantry can advance after we’ve cleared the area from the sky.”

“The Sunlit Emperor will likely move to stop us doing just that,” an elder said. “He has four more ninth-tier mages at least, as well as himself and a considerable number of arks remaining. Not to mention the remaining fortifications protecting this ark, and all of that’s assuming that we can get close to the thing without it taking off.”

Leon grinned as he leaned forward. “My retainers and I have done operations like this before. Not exactly like this, but we’re used to being stealthy.”

He glanced backward and found all of his people nodding or otherwise silently expressing their confidence.

“So, then, how about this? We move in certain support assets close by, my retainers, Tempest Knights, and I will infiltrate the fortress and take the ark, and then we make a bigger push once pandemonium has been raised?”

When Leon glanced around the room, he found a lot of uncertainty, to his disappointment. It seemed to fall to Iron-Striker to raise everyone’s concerns.

“Your Majesty, such an operation is risky, and you are irreplaceable…”

“I’m not going to sit around and watch everyone else fight this battle,” Leon immediately shot back. “I have my ways of escaping, and I’d estimate that I’m stronger than just about—”

Before he could finish making his argument, a hurried knock came at the door. The Jaguar nodded to one of his adjutants who opened it, and a grim-looking fifth-tier Lion entered the room.

“Pardon the intrusion,” he said. “Lawspeaker Menander reports the death of Creon and two thousand of his warriors in the west.”

The Lion bowed and waited a moment, but the entire room had fallen silent, completely stunned. Creon was one of the Lion Tribe’s five ninth-tier mages, and given the training regime for their Tribe, losing two thousand of their warriors was a terrible blow. Leon himself could only stare at the messenger for several long seconds before he immediately turned in his chair and projected his magic senses. His movement prodded other mages in the room to do the same, but few of them were strong enough to reach the western front.

It took Leon a fair few moments to get his bearings and locate the river in question that had been used to halt the Imperial advance in the initial month of the campaign, and then the Lion Tribe on its edge. Once he did get those bearings, though, he quickly saw what had happened.

The western Sunlit fleet was engaged in hitting the edges of Leon’s army with every Lance they could, and one of the Lions’ larger defensive fortifications had already been destroyed. Two Tribal war arks had already been shot down, and seven more had taken to the skies but were unable to get close—fourteen Imperial war arks were in the air keeping the Tribals from getting too close.

Leon’s mind went into overdrive, and as he turned back to the meeting, he started speaking.

“Reinforcements will be immediately sent to relieve this assault! Arks, MALLs, ships, whatever they need to fight off the enemy! Iron-Striker, you will act personally!”

Leon spoke decisively, his tone brokering no argument. While he saw some hesitation among the elders and central army commanders, he saw more anger and determination. Iron-Striker soberly nodded while Leon could practically see the Jaguar already organizing the reinforcements in his head.

“While that’s going on, my people and I will hit this fort and seize that Thunderbird ark that Sunlit has parked in the east. The Imperials are focusing on the west now that their eastern push has failed, so we’re going to hit them hard here in the center while most of our forces defend in the west.”

Leon paused a moment for any arguments, but this time, none came.

“Let’s get to it,” he ordered.

---

Sunlit glared down at the island below, his scarred visage one of barely-contained fury. He reveled in the death of the barbarians, of course, but the pain he still felt was impossible to ignore, and besides, those weren’t the barbarians that he wanted dead most of all. Still, killing the Sky Devils was always a good deed, and it felt great to avenge the defeat at least partially from a few days before.

Still, from where he observed the bombardment in one of his few remaining stealth arks, Sunlit glared alternatively down at the blasted Sky Devil fortress, and then southeast at the main Sky Devil port.

It had taken quite a bit of cajoling to get this fleet moving given the losses already sustained during the previous battle, and he’d had to move quickly to ensure that they could take the Sky Devils off-guard. He could feel the lack of rest weighing him down, though Sky Devil blood alleviated that mental fatigue somewhat.

He couldn’t help but grin; the Sky Devils had never managed to last long after leaving their island. Their misty veil protecting them from invasion was, as far as he was concerned, the sole reason why they had managed to resist their rightful extermination for so long, and without it, their armies were vulnerable to richer and more populated Empires.

Or even just his Empire, he supposed, since he’d been left otherwise on his own to deal with the Sky Devils.

He gently squeezed the shard of obsidian in his hand as he waited for his prey to arrive, as he was certain he would. Leon Raime would rush in to defend his shit-stained bootlickers, Sunlit had no doubt, and when he did, he would find himself laid low.

After receiving the obsidian shard, Sunlit had ordered a complete search of his fleet, having all men and women who were too pale or whose teeth were too sharp put to death. He may have accepted part of Amon’s offer, but that didn’t mean he was going to allow demon worshippers free rein among his armies and fleets. He wasn’t sure if he got who he was aiming for, but he was at least certain that he’d his point.

Accepting the demon’s offer didn’t make Sunlit particularly happy, but the terms hadn’t been onerous. In fact, they’d been downright generous, with the demon requesting nothing more than the death of the demon that Leon Raime had called forth to aid him in their first battle.

‘That much I can do,’ Sunlit viciously thought. That demon was a large part of the reason why he was so heavily injured, so killing it was no skin off his back.

Still, Sunlit was more conflicted. The demon had alluded to other offers, powers that could potentially affect his bloodline, and that had piqued Sunlit’s curiosity, to say the least. But that kind of negotiation would only come after their initial agreement had been fulfilled.

For now… he only had to wait. Leon would come to him, and that would be his death.

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