Chương 1228: 1258 - Preparations for the Games

"… I can… do you want my help?" It was a simple question, requiring no more than a yes or no. Yet, for all that simplicity, Leon couldn't help but stare at Miuna, unable to formulate an immediate response. Fortunately for him, she seemed to understand and waited patiently for him to get his mind back into working order. Having Miuna's help with anything would be invaluable. Her power as the Ocean King's favorite child gave her access not just to resources but also to people that he simply couldn't replicate.

Her word, to a large extent, came with the Ocean King's backing. It would be foolish to completely deny her generous offer. On the other hand, Leon wasn't one to involve others in his personal affairs, especially not those who wanted to entangle themselves with him in the way that Miuna did. Accepting her offer would undoubtedly indebt him to her in a way that he wasn't comfortable with, even if she would deny any debts incurred.

'This is a perfect opportunity, though,' Leon thought as he stared out over Belicenion again, the vast fleets of arks moving about above the plane seeming to fade away until only the arks of the Great Dragon Clans remained. His mother might very well be aboard one of them—the black, undoubtedly.

'Even if she isn't,' Leon continued,'Miuna could arrange a meeting with someone in that Clan… surely… And when will you get another chance at meeting another family member? When you get around to visiting Arushae? That fucking plane is several kajillion miles away from Artorion; how are you going to get there without abandoning your duties? Idiot, you fucking idiot, just accept. Just accept and deal with it. Miuna's a friend, isn't she?

You can still deny her if she wants to get married as her condition, any demands she makes will be reasonable. Just accept. Just do it. Do it.' As he continued cajoling and berating himself closer to acceptance, his eyes broke contact with the dragon fleets and briefly made contact with Miuna's eyes, her irises gleaming in shades of amber. He saw patience and understanding within, and his cheeks burned with shame at not trusting her as much as he felt he should, given their friendship and history.

"I…" he hesitantly began, his tongue rebelling at the orders it received. But his brain was a harsh taskmaster, and words soon formed again, passing his lips without further obstruction.

"I would accept any help you're willing to give." Miuna smiled radiantly. She was a beautiful woman both inside and out, and Leon hoped that she might one day drop her desire for some kind of romantic partnership between them. She deserved someone who could make her their full priority, not someone who could only share their time with her.

"I'll arrange something," Miuna said, pride writ large across her face.

"Some kind of soiree, maybe? I have a few acquaintances who could get invitations into the hands of the Dragon Kings."

"They might not accept," Leon said, knowing well their pride might get in the way if they took after their Ancestors.

"If they think themselves above coming to a party with me, then I'll think of something else. I think it's unlikely, though; dragons keep to themselves most of the time, but they are known for parading themselves around when they do appear in public. If they're here, then they want to be seen, they want to show off. What better way to show off than before everyone who attends a party thrown by the daughter of the Ocean King?" Leon nodded slowly as his eyes returned to the arks in question.

Ideas rushed through his head about what to do then, how to react to any potential dragons appearing before him.

'Would they recognize me?' Leon wondered.

'Is Fain here?' He had no answers, but he certainly had some ideas for how to prepare. He didn't have the Ancestor Gem, but he could call the Great Black Dragon and get a rundown on what to expect—assuming he could pressure the ancient being into responding properly instead of haughtily insulting him and flying away. He also needed to shore up his alliances. At the moment, he didn't have many contacts among the higher-tiered Lords, but getting together with some of the lower-tiered Lords wouldn't hurt…

A certain idea regarding Theron and his vampiric problem occurred to him, and he momentarily cut off any further thought.

"I should leave you this," he said.

"I need to arrange a few things first." He made for the exit to Miuna's little private booth on his observation deck, but after a few steps, he paused and glanced back at her. He found her smiling at him while adjusting herself a bit as she kneeled on her pillows. There was no expectation in her smile, but he knew he was leaving a bit too quickly and with too few words.

"Miuna…" he said, and her smile grew almost imperceptibly.

"Thank you. I mean it. I'll find some way to repay this favor. Count on that."

"Don't worry about it," Miuna said.

"Just… don't be upset if I don't invite Basileus N'chezzar. The guest list will be long, but he won't be welcome." A question nearly passed Leon's lips, but he suppressed it. He didn't need to ask why; he already knew. N'chezzar was a warrior who had repulsed the Ocean Lords from a swathe of the Storm Lands' northern coast, and he had a host of unpleasant or dreadful nicknames for it.

It made sense to him why she wouldn't be thrilled with inviting the 'Mad Dog of Lortinios', even if N'chezzar had been nothing but polite to Leon and even backed him up in Khosrow's Fane.

"I can live with that," he said. He gave her a quick smile and a nod, which she returned, and Leon completed his departure. Storm Herald would soon be moored, and he wanted to have his ideas in play before taking his first step off the ark.

"Is it possible?" the boy asked, his gold eyes shining with unstated calculations. Xaphan sighed, his heart beating molten blood through his obsidian body a little bit faster from mild annoyance. He liked Leon, he'd been the finest partner the demon had ever had—not that he'd had many given his aversion to blood magic—and he was flattered that the boy knew when to ask for help and that his counsel was wise…

But the fire demon was also more than content with gathering his power, not filling his head with much else save for his inevitable conflict with Amon. Wrath burned within him at the thought of the traitor and the heights he'd climbed to. He would slay his former friend one day, just as soon as he…

'As I do what?' Xaphan silently mused.

'What friends do I have? What allies await me? None who will support me against the new Prince of Flame.' His eyes, burning white-hot, remained locked on Leon, earnestness and curiosity slowly giving way to annoyance of his own as Xaphan took his time answering. In truth, Xaphan wasn't contemplating Leon's question that hard; he already had the answer. But making him wait a little longer amused him, so that's what he did. In truth, the question itself intrigued him.

A demon would never have asked it; their friendships were always one-sided and based on what they could do for each other. True relationships of that nature were rare. Family was often the only relationship a demon could count on, and Xaphan didn't have any family remaining.

'No one to mourn me,' he thought.

'No one to question my disappearance. No one to argue for me when Amon was given my Lordship. No one to look for me now. No one.' He'd grown a bit unfocused, but Leon's growing impatience sharpened his attention. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

'Would he?' the flame demon wondered.

'Maybe. He seems to go out of his way to protect his people, and he's certainly done me favors…' Xaphan didn't put as much stock as he felt he should into what Leon had done for him. Their contract had been forged from mutual self-interest, and while they'd grown into friends—as much as Xaphan's fiery skin hissed and crackled at the thought—their relationship these days was far more equal, far more deserving of the label of 'partners' than it had ever been.

'I trust a human,' Xaphan thought with amazement, and not for the first time.

'If Plutos could see me now, that sulfurous bastard would laugh until he shat diamonds.'

"Well?" Leon demanded, his patience finally running out.

"Is it?"

"Calm yourself, boy," Xaphan said, allowing himself a slight raising of his obsidian lips, knowing that they were obscured by his body's glorious fire. Feeling a little feisty, Xaphan decided to poke him a bit.

"It's poor form to rush a Lord when he's contemplating the problem. Settle yourself before you piss yourself, as you humans are wont to do when upset." Leon scowled, and Xaphan reveled in the brief rhetorical victory. No clever wordplay was needed; just invoking irritation was enough to win. He continued, getting to the point now that he'd got in his jab.

"Reversing vampirism is a difficult thing, as you should already know."

"It was straightforward enough with Valentina," Leon protested.

"She had me here," Xaphan reminded him.

"She was contracted with Amon. I know him and his methods well, so while she wasn't contracted with me, I could still extract his influence from her physical form, restoring her to humanity. For your lying friend—""We don't know that he's lying," Leon said. The perpetual fire of his body snapped and emitted a few extra embers, expressing Xaphan's mild frustration.

"He claimed that merely possessing power from a lightning demon turned him into a vampire. You have been directly contracted with a most illustrious fire demon for centuries, and you have shown no signs of vampirism. Think, Leon! Extrapolate! Use that stuff between your ears for something other than… well, what do you use it for?"

"Your point?" Leon asked as he slightly pursed his lips and folded his arms across his chest. Xaphan smirked again, but he recognized that Leon's patience was truly starting to run thin, so he refrained from further jabs.

"He had to do something to be turned," he insisted. He still felt that contempt rearing up again as he thought about Theron's claims.

'How stupid does he think we are? Or maybe they are, given they seemed to have fallen for it…' Continuing, Xaphan said, "Do you remember how a vampire is made?"

"Drinking blood," Leon recited.

"The power in the blood is transferred to the demon. This is the price paid to receive some of the demon's power, in turn. Over time, the human body adapts to ingesting mana and becomes dependent on it."

"And just because he claims he didn't indulge in such practices doesn't mean he was telling the truth. Tell me, boy, which is more likely? That he was telling the truth and found some new, never-before-discovered path to vampirism? Or that he was simply lying about not indulging in blood sacrifices? He is a Strategos, I'll remind you, and acquiring the occasional sacrifice wouldn't be difficult…"

"Maybe…" Leon whispered, not directly answering Xaphan's challenge, but still answering it in his own way. After more than two centuries, Xaphan could read Leon like an open book. The boy was reluctant to agree, but either way, it wouldn't matter; his mind wasn't going to change, and neither was his request. In its own way, the fire demon found it endearing. Leon was showing in another way that he was no demon. Before he could even restate the question, Xaphan said, "It's possible."

Leon's eyes narrowed, and his posture stiffened.

"How?" he asked, refreshingly direct.

"It will not require that much of an adaptation to the ritual. Valentina needed my aid because Amon is still around. If Theron's contracted demon is truly dead as he claimed, then there won't be any pushback as he cleanses his body of that demon's influence. Once that's done, the final step—restoring his body to its normal state that isn't reliant on blood—will be easy. Assuming he can find a skilled and trusted enough light mage to work the spells."

"Clear should be enough," Leon said.

"And I know that he'll want to help." Xaphan let a smile grow, though he burned his flames just a little brighter to keep it from showing. Adopting a haughty tone, Xaphan said, "I'll work on it. Not like I have anything better to do here over the next few hours. Ask me again this time tomorrow." Leon's smile mirrored Xaphan's for a moment, then rapidly exceeded it.

Xaphan could remember the boy's less expressive youth, and how long it could take for him to truly open up to people enough to not guard his expressions. He'd never say it, but he appreciated it—more, perhaps, than even he was willing to admit.

"Thank you, demon," Leon said, his words coming with a playful bite of sarcasm. A bit of ego-saving sarcasm, in Xaphan's opinion, though he didn't press Leon on it. This time. Xaphan nodded, then dismissed Leon like a King ordering a group to disband. Leon didn't linger long enough for even a single biting remark before scampering off to handle his other business, leaving Xaphan alone in his soul realm once again. As Leon's mind returned to his physical body, silence fell.

Even the crackling, hissing, and snapping of Xaphan's fire seemed to dull in his solitude. But he didn't dwell on that for long; he was glad to be of use, and he immediately launched himself into adapting the ritual to banish vampirism from a human body. He'd said he'd have it done in twenty-four hours, and he was not going to disgrace himself by being wrong.

Excitement blazed through him as he practically raced through the palace halls. The arks above his plane were many, already surpassing the previous Games' attendance with weeks to go before the opening ceremony.

'These Games are going to be memorable,' Anushirawan thought to himself with pride. The peace that he brought to the universe during these events lifted his spirits like nothing else ever did. Or rather, like almost nothing else ever did. His darling girl, his pride and joy, Deianira, was coming close to an ascension, and once she got herself over that threshold and reached the twelfth-tier, his entire realm would celebrate. But that wouldn't coincide with the Games, if he were honest.

Deianira's focus was on being the perfect Princess now, not on her training, and he couldn't blame her. This was a golden opportunity to build friendships and rapport with other Lords.

'Not all of them, though,' he thought as his eyes unconsciously flickered in several directions. Wolves, birds, dragons … His Games were larger for several reasons, and one of them was that several reclusive Clans decided to join. He might've celebrated such a thing a mere millennium ago. Now, things were more complicated.

Behind him streamed a long line of attendants hurrying to keep pace with him, but he paid them little mind—at least, until one pushed forward and ran up to him, slowing down to just a pace behind him. Though he was a post-Apotheosis mage and one of his most trusted advisors, that didn't mean that he could ignore decorum entirely and walk at his side.

"My King," he said, and as he'd been trained, he launched directly into the matter at hand.

"We've received a report from Khosrow's Fane. Violence related to a party of Storm Lords who recently arrived was alleged."

"Violence?" Anushirawan asked in alarm.

"Hardly surprising from Storm Lords, but there of all places?"

"That was the allegation," his advisor repeated. A brief mental pulse brushed against Anushirawan's mind, and with his concern growing, he let it in. The voice of his advisor rang out in his mind, ensuring that no one but the two of them would hear. [It was confirmed.] Three simple words, but their method of conveyance sent Anushirawan's heart sinking like a boulder thrown off a cliff. [A young Storm Lord is among the group,] the advisor continued. [Leon Raime was his name. We were asked to keep an eye on him.] A frown marred Anushirawan's handsome features. He'd heard the name recently, but he'd put it out of mind since the Games were due to begin.

'Where did I hear that? A duel on Voidshore, or something like that?

"We'll deal with all of that later," he said aloud.

"Right now, there are several duels scheduled that I need to oversee." Overseeing the duels between feuding Lords was one of his favorite things to do during the Games. Ensuring that conflicts were resolved bloodlessly, even if they still involved violence, would help normalize it throughout the universe. Someday, he hoped, humanity would reach the ideal that Khosrow had dreamed of. He was happy to do his part.

At that thought, however, echoes of screaming children resounded in his ears, joined by the weeping of their parents and the cackling of their murderers, and he nearly faltered in step. Some duties asked of him were heavy. Khosrow's dream wouldn't be realized without such actions, or so he'd been assured, but the thought brought little comfort.

'Just another reason to get lost in the Games,' he thought. There may be more bearers of tainted blood at the Games this time than was typical, but he wasn't going to let that ruin his event.

'I'd rather not…' he thought, but he cut himself off. He closed his eyes for a moment as he walked. His heart had to be made of stone to ensure humanity's future. He buried that thought deep, resolving never again to bring it to the fore of his mind. Once done, he focused again on the Games, and especially the duels he was to oversee. But even in the blasts of magic and clanging steel, he could still hear the echoes…