Chương 1302: 1332 - Tyndareus

Reading the report Marcus sent was sobering. Casualties were to be expected, but losing hundreds of arks and thousands of men and women was something else. If Marcus hadn't also emphasized his victory, then Leon might've put off his other important work to go to the Jewels of Rhea himself and set the entire cluster alight. As it was, the Jewels were now in his Kingdom, entitled to his protection.

They were well-populated and wealthy, and though possessing no great game-changing strategic resource, the cluster was already set up to be one of his most productive with little effort on his part. Thankfully, Marcus hadn't had to damage the planes themselves overmuch in his campaign, and the planes had some usable arkyards he could use to repair most of his damaged arks. However, he was going to need reinforcements soon for his part of the conquest to continue.

Leon tasked the Jaguar with that as he was busy with other important matters at the moment. He sat in a stone chair carved to resemble an eagle cradling him in its wings, feeling the wind in his hair, which carried with it the faint scent of mist and ozone. Around him were some of his newest and strongest vassals. Archelaus with several of his attendants; Ilum and two dozen of his adjutants; Gwarim, though he was present more as a friend and ally than as a vassal.

On Leon's side were many of his officials and advisors. Given what they were there to do, Clear Day was with him and had brought a staff of more than a hundred diplomats of various ranks. Zhang and Daryun as his Paladins, alongside a large contingent of Tempest Knights. Penelope, representing her father and Heaven's Eye. And one more face sat with him: Ingrid, the Despotissa whose lands lay north of Archelaus'.

Given all that Leon had done for her, when she entered his territory, he'd barely even explained his strategic situation to her before she was ready to swear herself to him—that, she explained, had been what she'd intended to speak with him about after the Belicenion Games, and she further said that she would've done so long before now had it not taken longer than she'd wanted to get Luthergard back in order after her husband abandoned her.

He'd accepted her fealty, of course, but that also left him with another significant strategic issue: her Basileus wasn't going to take this lying down. It was that particular problem that saw him where he now was, sitting at one end of a stone table in the center of a pavilion amidst windswept hills north of the Redspark Forest.

The Redspark Forest, home to the Stormborn Oak, saturated the environment in lightning magic, which Leon found particularly soothing—and he hoped his guest, whose arrival was imminent, would find it similarly peaceful.

Despotissa Ingrid hadn't been subtle in proclaiming herself now Leon's vassal, unlike Archelaus and Ilum, both of whom were doing all they could to buy as much time as possible before Anax Alderion found out about Basileus Ramin's death, especially since Ramin's other Despots hadn't yet responded to Archelaus' overtures. And because of that, Basileus Tyndareus had wasted no time leaving his capital in the Nexus to fly to Luthergard. En route, Ingrid had contacted him and arranged a meeting on 'neutral' ground.

These wind-battered hills were hardly neutral, given they fell in Archelaus' territory, but they served well enough considering how quickly Tyndareus moved—Leon and his people had barely arrived a few hours ago and hastily set up the stone pavilion, and Tyndareus was mere minutes away. Leon put away the report and his comm slate, forcing himself to recalibrate his thoughts from the conquest to the imminent meeting.

Tyndareus was a proud man, according to both Ingrid and Archelaus, but perhaps not quite as prone to violence as Anax Alderion. Within his soul realm, he felt the Thunderbird's presence. It was a welcome feeling; he hadn't realized just how nice it was to know that he wasn't alone.

Those few days between losing his father and forging his contract with Xaphan had been the only time in his life that he'd ever been truly alone, and now that Xaphan had moved into an appropriately-appointed cave on Westmount, Leon found it almost painfully quiet in his soul realm. Still, the change was needed. [Steady yourself,] the Thunderbird whispered into his mind. [You're looking nervous. And don't tap your fingers on the armrest. That makes you look impatient when you should appear in control and relaxed.] [Hard to be relaxed when meeting with someone of my own tier,] Leon replied. [This whole thing could turn into a battle. I need to be ready.] [Do you believe that Basileus is bringing more than that single ark?] Leon stared at the large, if solitary, ark that was making its final approach, growing rapidly in the sky. [No. But at his tier, he doesn't have to. If he can beat me, then he can run right over my Kingdom. I didn't even have any twelfth-tier mages sworn to me until Archelaus offered his fealty.] [You defeated Bennu. You can defeat this man, too.] [In a duel that the Sun King made sure was one-on-one. Here… one wrong move, and even if I kill him, he could still kill many of my own people. And if he does die—or worse, escapes—then we're going to be extremely stretched maintaining the campaign in Rhea and dealing with him.] The Thunderbird snorted in amusement, and when she spoke, Leon could hear her smile. [Nothing is ever a sure thing, my boy. And for what it's worth, I like that you're taking this risk. Just project strength and you'll get through this without problems. Remember that you are of my blood and that you represent our Clan, and act accordingly.] Leon would've responded if Tyndareus' ark hadn't come hurtling in, his heart skipping a beat when it seemed, if only for a brief moment, like it wasn't going to stop.

Thankfully, Tyndareus wasn't interested in crashing into either Leon's hill or the nearby Storm's Wrath Unending, a dreadnought that was Leon's only ark nearby. Storm Herald was at the border between his and Archelaus' territory with a hefty escort fleet, ready to come to his aid if needed, but it would take more than an hour for them to arrive. For all intents and purposes, Leon and those present with him were on their own.

Tyndareus' ark was a harsh-looking thing; seemingly made from polished fulgurite, the lines and overall shape of the enormous dreadnought-class ark evoked a lightning bolt. All black and shining in the light of the Origin Spark, it made quite an impression. To Leon, however, it was the hundreds of weapons emplacements and the obvious barrel of a large cannon that caught his attention the most. A hangar near the rear of the ark opened, spilling light into the darkening afternoon air.

Two hundred figures followed that light, led by the man who could only be Tyndareus. He wasn't particularly tall or handsome, but he carried himself with charming confidence. He was fair-skinned and broad-shouldered, and to Leon's eye, the man's dull black armor wasn't designed to emphasize any of his features. His long hair was tied back in a black ponytail, while his brown eyes were so warm that even with his severe features and expression, it was hard for him to look particularly intimidating.

Tyndareus landed on the pavilion gently enough not to crack the stone, but hard enough that Leon felt the impact. Those following him were considerably softer, but given they were universally armored, it was almost as effective as a show of force. Leon sensed many of his people subtly flexing their auras in response, anticipating violence, but Tyndareus walked forward alone, leaving the rest of his people behind. He wasn't even accompanied by a diplomat or assistant.

When he reached the table Leon and his people were sitting at, he glared derisively at the stone chair waiting for him, took hold of it by the headrest, and hurled it into the distance as casually as Leon might toss a stack of paper onto a desk. Then, so smoothly it might as well have been the same movement, Tyndareus conjured a seat of his own made of black crystal and jagged, like his ark. The Basileus sat, leaning forward over the table and staring at Leon.

"You have stolen something from me, young Thunderbird." His eyes flickered momentarily to Ingrid, who visibly tensed in her seat.

"I'll indulge you enough to hear you out, but if I don't like what you have to say, then…" Golden lightning glimmered around his fingers, blackening the stone table and making his intentions clear. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

"Thunderbirds don't shy from violence," Leon said with a vicious grin, his aura roiling enough to give his words the needed weight.

"But…" He glanced at Clear Day, who took the cue to jump in.

"We are looking to ensure peace between—" Clear halted, his breath hitching as Tyndareus held out his hand.

"Let your King speak for himself," the Basileus stated curtly.

"Unless he needs someone else to do it for him."

"Hardly," Leon immediately replied, his words barely cutting off his scoff.

"I'll be blunt, as I have little patience for this. Were you at the most recent Belicenian Games?"

"No," Tyndareus replied with a smile.

"But I saw a recorded performance that I found entertaining. It's rare to see a Phoenix so thoroughly trounced."

"I wouldn't call it 'trounced', but I did beat Bennu. Ten years ago. I was only twelfth-tier then, ascending at the end of the fight. I've had a decade to settle into my power, and even grow it some. Do you believe yourself a match for a Prince of the Phoenix Clan?" Tyndareus' smile sharpened into a grin of anticipation, but didn't verbally respond.

"We can fight," Leon pressed on after the silent offer for Tyndareus to respond passed just as silently.

"Or… we can come to an agreement. Ingrid has sworn herself to me. I trust you've heard this?"

"Hard not to. Luthergard is abuzz with this talk. You have weakened me, Leon Raime. Wars have been started for less."

'And yet you're here to talk,' Leon thought to himself. He strongly suspected that if he were still only twelfth-tier, then Tyndareus wouldn't ever consider sitting down with him like this. Instead, he would've gone to war immediately. And yet, Leon was not only a thirteen-tier mage just like him, but he'd also proven his personal strength for all to see at the Belicenian Games.

"I've heard of other things, too," Tyndareus continued, his eyes finally turning first to Archelaus, then to Ilum, and then to Gwarim." Those two," he said, his eyes still on Gwarim, "are expected. But you?"

"As honorable as I find my friend," Gwarim said, his smile obvious even through his thick beard, "I am here as his friend, not as a vassal." Tyndareus snorted doubtfully, his eyes once again finding Leon.

"Speak, then. What, in your mind, is worth the loss of a Despotissa? What offer is there to make that won't have me tearing your head off and painting these stones red with your blood?" Leon and Clear had gone over potential strategies to get Tyndareus to give up on Ingrid over the previous days. None had seemed particularly effective when planning, but now that he'd broken words with the man, Leon thought he had an idea for how to get what he wanted.

All trade offers died before reaching his tongue, as did all appeals to peace and cooperation. Instead, he rose from his seat, his aura towering, silver-blue lightning flashing over his arms.

"If you try it, you'll die. You face a Thunderbird, not a sparrow."

"You do not remember, Tyndareus," Archelaus said, "you are too young. Enemies of the Thunderbird Clan rarely live long." Tyndareus slowly rose, his aura rising to match Leon's. His eyes, full of challenge, met Leon's, and he growled, "You think yourself a man. I'll admit, you cut a convincing enough figure. I might be tempted to make peace with a man, but I'll need irrefutable proof."

Leon was about to step up onto the table and walk dramatically toward Tyndareus, but just as Iron Pride and his armor were about to be called, Tyndareus summoned a large cask and slammed it onto the table. Then, a pair of enormous drinking horns, curved and sharp. Each horn was gleaming white, banded in gold, and rested on golden stands. The golden bands were inscribed with runes that Leon immediately identified as chilling and heating enchantments.

With practiced ease, Tyndareus pulled out the cork from the cask, lifted it with deceptive ease, and then poured its contents into the horns.

"Let us see which of us is the greater man," he said, a challenging glint in his eye. Leon spared the dark brown liquid in the horns warily, but the woody aroma didn't immediately scream 'poison' to him. While he was not particularly fond of drinking, he wasn't averse to it, either. He reached out with his magic, taking one of the horns. Tyndareus took the other, and perfectly in sync, they brought the rims to their lips.

It went down smoothly, almost suspiciously easy for how dramatically Tyndareus had conjured the cask. Tyndareus finished first, quaffing the horn with ease. It wasn't until he grinned victoriously as he turned the horn over and revealed that only a bare few drops of the drink remained that Leon realized the nature of the challenge. He drained the rest of the horn and turned it over, showing the same.

"Your turn," Tyndareus growled. Leon didn't have much in the way of drinks on him, but he carried a supply of good bottles with him as an emergency stash, just in case he found himself stranded somewhere with his wives. He conjured one of those bottles—a relatively strong wine brewed by the Rock-Mane Bison. He poured it out, the bottle easily split between the two horns, and he and Tyndareus threw the horns back, draining them dry. The wine was just as smooth as the first drink, though sweeter and fruitier.

"Bah!" Tyndareus said as he finished, overturning his horn just a second behind Leon.

"That was a woman's drink! This will put some hair on your chest!" He conjured a smaller cask this time, made of dark wood and bound in silver. As he poured it out, Leon gave Clear a few silent instructions. He had the feeling that this was going to go on for a while, and he'd need some drinks of his own. Fortunately, he had plenty of people to rely on—and, as a glance to the side showed him, friends who were more than willing to help, if Gwarim's obvious desire to participate was any indication…

Casks and bottles filled the table and much of the floor. Both Leon and Tyndareus' parties finished off what they couldn't, and even started bringing out drinks of their own. Tyndareus' people indulged freely, but Leon's Paladins and Tempest Knights displayed their incredible professionalism amidst this atmosphere by not following suit. Hours had passed, and by this point, Leon and Tyndareus sat next to each other, a crystal bottle in Tyndareus' hand filled with beautiful amber liquid.

After a somewhat slurred laugh, Tyndareus said, "Mead from Tynland bee honey. Drink it cold, and a mortal could finish a whole bottle in a single sitting—though he'd be instantly addicted to its magnificence. Drink it warm, though…" He leaned in conspiratorially." Warm … and a single drop could kill that mortal in minutes. An eighth-tier mage would vomit after a thimbleful. You've held your own, Thunderbird, but this will show me who you really are…"

He poured an almost comically small amount of Tynland mead into both horns, and Leon, following his example, activated the warmth enchantments on the horn. Then, they clinked their horns together and threw them back. Leon almost froze as the mead hit his tongue.

The immediate flavor wasn't spectacular, tasting almost like herbal medicine. But as it lingered, the floral flavor gave way to something richer and earthier. The mead had been spiced with something that tasted vaguely of cinnamon, but he wasn't enough of a connoisseur to be confident in saying what it might have been. Plus, he was feeling a bit light-headed, his power keeping his mind clear having its limits.

As the mead settled in his stomach, he felt its warmth filling him pleasantly, easing some of the discomfort that several hours of competitive drinking had brought. He relaxed enough that it took him a moment to realize that Tyndareus was watching him closely.

"Expecting something?" he asked, not reacting much to the man's strange look.

"Curious," the Basileus said.

"I've always been curious how a Thunderbird would react. Hearing so many stories of them… I thought I'd never know." He took hold of the bottle of Tynland mead and swished it about.

"This stuff has floored men of great standing."

"Impressed?" Leon asked. Tyndareus scoffed.

"Hardly. But… It's enough."

"Enough? For what?" With a laugh, Tyndareus turned in his seat to face Leon properly.

"To know that you beating Bennu wasn't a fluke. I'd considered killing you the moment I arrived, Thunderbird. You stole Ingrid from me, and rare is it that an insult against me goes without answer. Now, though… I'll hold off on that. I could be persuaded to let it go… if it's in my interest."

"What do you want?" Leon asked as he turned to face the Basileus.

"Massadan," Tyndareus spat.

"Do you know the name?" Leon nodded slowly, his mind turning to the political situation in the Storm Lands.

"Another Basileus. Between you and N'chezzar." Tyndareus growled, the expression confirming Leon spoke rightly.

"Few more deplorable bastards have there ever been. He is a threat I can't ignore. His land here in the Nexus should be mine. Join me in killing him, and I'll relinquish all claims to Ingrid."

"A Basileus for a Despotissa?" Leon asked, unamused.

"A Basileus for peace between us," Tyndareus clarified, his aura momentarily spiking.

"And to make up for this insult against my honor. Or I could kill you now. What is your choice?" Leon frowned for a long moment. On the face of it, hardly a fair trade. But he had to admit that he'd be furious and not particularly inclined to give the same kind of deal if someone had stolen any of his vassals from him. By those standards, Tyndareus was fairly generous.

It would make him a particularly powerful neighbor, and Leon wasn't sure he liked that, but with so much other stuff going on, he figured it might just be worth it, depending on how much Tyndareus wanted him to commit.

"Join you," Leon repeated.

"Myself, or are you asking for my fleets?"

"Just you," Tyndareus replied. Leon breathed a quiet sigh of relief. That was an easier thing to agree to—assuming he wanted to agree to it at all. He asked Tyndareus for a few minutes, and when the man reluctantly, though with a muted look of understanding, gave him the time, Leon quietly mentally connected with Archelaus, Gwarim, Illum, Ingrid, and Clear. All of whom, either by virtue of only lightly participating in the impromptu party or their great magical power, were fairly sober and gave him sober responses.

Once that was done, Leon gave Tyndareus his answer.