Chương 1333: 1363 - Wifely Chiding

For a brief time, Leon lay where he was, not quite remembering what he'd been doing before everything went dark. He might've continued lying there if there hadn't been an insistent tug whose source was just beyond his senses, demanding that he get up. He cracked his eyes open and almost immediately regretted it. His origin spark in his soul realm was radiant, which was normally a cause for celebration, but in his sleep-addled state, it instead felt like it was trying to put out his eyes with rusty nails.

A groan escaped his lips, and a sense of motherly judgment fell upon him, heavy as a mountain.

"You're alive," the Thunderbird said, amusement so far away from her tone that it lived on another plane.

"I almost thought you'd killed yourself with your recklessness."

"What's new?" Leon sarcastically responded as he flexed his abs, forcing himself up even as pain flashed through his nerves. He still felt that tug, but only once he was a bit more vertical did he realize that it was coming from his connection with Maia.

"I need to get up."

"Yes," the Thunderbird agreed.

"Once again, the price you're paying for your recklessness is low, so you should be thankful."

"Thank you, oh mighty universe, and of course, my Ancestors, for watching over me."

"Your glibness vexes me." Leon smirked, but the expression died a quick death as he realized who was surrounding his physical body.

"I need to get it in now; being glib out there would bring me a proper death, I imagine." The Thunderbird huffed before quietly agreeing again. Leon then sat upon his throne, only a pace away from where he'd awoken, and gave his Ancestor a quick smile, hoping he was communicating all he needed with that one expression. They might have to talk later, but it would have to be later. He wasn't running from her, though, certainly not. He just had to talk with others first.

So, he closed his eyes in his soul realm and opened them in the physical world, finding that someone was pushing her fingertip into his cheek. He turned his head slightly, and gold met lake blue; Maia glared balefully at him, antipathy roiling off of her in enormous tidal waves that had Leon nervous to say the first word. Maia, however, was more than happy to seize that honor.

"Idiot." A harsh rebuke given her tone, but her voice was so delightful that Leon smiled anyway.

"Yes," he concurred.

"What am I an idiot for, specifically, though?"

"Pushing yourself," Maia said.

"Stop it. You have too many people counting on you to push yourself into unconsciousness every time you fight."

"She's right," Elise said as she collapsed on the bed next to him, throwing her arms around his waist.

"We've lost enough so far…" Her tone killed any playfulness in the atmosphere, and Leon remembered everything. His face fell knowing just who had been 'lost', and who had 'lost'—a difference that he had to clarify, but first, he had a more immediate question.

"How long was I out?" He glanced around, waiting for an answer. Maia and Elise, beside him, glanced over their shoulder at Cassandra, standing at the foot of his bed. Valeria sat in a chair beside the bed, but she didn't look willing to join their cuddle pile, much to his dismay. So, it was Cassandra who answered.

"You've been out for five hundred years, my husband." For less than a second, an amount of time that made a lightning bolt's flash look slow and cumbersome, Leon believed her. But then his brain caught up with her words and everyone's appearances around his bed.

"No," he said, offering no further rebuttals. Cassandra remained serious in the face of his immediate rejection, but her façade cracked after several long seconds. A self-deprecating grimace shot across her gorgeous face, and she murmured, "I knew I should've said fifty years… five hundred was too much to be believable…" She then paused and shot a smirk Leon's way.

"You should've seen your face, though—you almost believed me."

"Hilarious," Leon growled.

"How long was I out for, really?"

"About four hours," Valeria said as she gave Leon a look that suggested she wanted to join Maia in poking him in the face, which the river nymph was continuing even with Leon back among the waking world.

"Not bad," Leon said as he gave himself a quick inspection. Nearly all of his self-inflicted lightning burns were gone, though some lingering soreness and redness remained. He could also feel a chill in his core that, while he had no proof, he speculated it might have been caused by invoking his death lightning so liberally. As it was, he was fine with not using that particular power for a while—at least long enough for him to make a full and proper recovery.

"It's enough for much to happen," Valeria stated calmly.

"You would be more animated if we didn't have some time," Leon observed as he sat up in bed, Maia and Elise rising with him, the former still poking him in the cheek.

"That's true," Cassandra interjected, "but others need your help." Dread settled in Leon's chest like a thousand stones, and he tentatively asked, "My mother?"

"Still alive," Cassandra confirmed, much to Leon's relief.

"But she's still heavily injured. It might be a while before she's back in combat shape. Maybe centuries."

"That long," Leon asked as he shook off his wives and forced himself out of the comfortable sheets and started readying himself to be a proper King again.

"Basileus Triton has a special weapon," Cassandra explained, a scowl flashing across her face.

"Ever since it penetrated our mother-in-law's armor, she's been asleep. Most of our healers have said that she'll eventually be fine, but…"

"Do me a favor and take this to her when you can," Leon said as he wasted no time in conjuring the White Dragon Scale and giving it to Cassandra. She nodded and stowed the scale.

"Are you not going to visit her?" Elise asked, her voice rising with concern.

"I will," Leon promised, his inability to give an immediate affirmation knocking him about more fiercely than he'd anticipated, "but not right this moment. Iron-Striker and the Jaguar…"

"… There hasn't been any sign of either one of them," Elise stated solemnly, causing Leon's blood to run cold. Those two were his most important advisors and supporters, and to lose them was… it was a loss that he didn't think could be recovered from in thousands of years, if it even could be recovered from.

"We— I think that they're dead. If they're not… I can hardly imagine what they've gone through. If they're still alive, then they've been in the eastern mountains for weeks…"

"They shouldn't be too hard to find if they're still within the mountain range…" It was something of an idle comment on Leon's part, but Cassandra was quick to point out the obvious. This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"We have searched. But Triton's fleet has made it prohibitively difficult."

"Where is his fleet?" Leon asked as he threaded one leg into a pair of trousers. In a flash, his pants were on, and he reached for a short tunic with its beautiful blue hue and shining silver trim.

"West and northwest," Valeria said.

"He's rallying his fleets. We won't get through this day without another battle…"

"And there have been so many so far," Elise said with a profound shiver that had Leon instinctively pulling her closer to share his body heat. That didn't help much, as Elise recounted, "Our settlements along the Blue Feather River have been devastated. Millions are dead just to our north alone. Millions more in the other direction."

"If we wait too long," Valeria warned, "Triton will finish his rally and attack."

"We're outnumbered," Cassandra added bluntly.

"Any battle would not go well for us, even if we win." Leon finished pulling his tunic on, smoothed out some nonexistent wrinkles, and faced his wives.

"I need a full accounting for what's happened and what our forces look like now. As much as I… would rather visit my mother, I need to see to the Kingdom first."

"None of us expects anything else," Valeria whispered. She and Leon shared a quick smile, but spoke no more on that front. Leon made for the door, his wives following along closely. Maia outright took his arm and refused to let go, acting as if she wanted to make sure that he wasn't going to use death lightning or any other dangerous power to the point of damaging himself again—though as he thought more about it, Leon fully believed that was what she was doing. He allowed it, enjoying her touch if nothing else.

He'd been taken to his bedchamber on Westmount after losing consciousness. His fleet had returned to Artorion as Triton put some distance between them, apparently not taking advantage of Leon's brief foray into dreamless sleep. However, it wasn't gone, and it was still massive, the number of his war arks doubling Leon's in number if not quite in tonnage. Triton wasn't retreating, though Leon wasn't expecting him to. After leaving his bedchamber, Tempest Knights fell in behind him and his wives.

It took walking through a few more halls for any of his Paladins to appear: Graniton, Lana, Zhang, and Daryun had clearly taken it upon themselves to lock down the entrance area into his family's wing of the palace. Their discipline was strong enough that their only reaction to his return from the land of dreams was to fall in just behind his family and just ahead of their Tempest Knights. Further throughout Westmount Palace, Leon could see a measure of chaos, both controlled and not.

Civilians were panicking in nearly every corner of the palace, while his officers and officials did their damnedest to keep peace and order beneath the palace's roof. There was a palpable sense of anxiety surrounding everyone in the palace, and Leon began letting his aura leak throughout the massive flying mountain, letting everyone within feel him now that he was up and about. Things were more chaotic down in the valley.

Millions of refugees from the north and south had flooded in, seeking shelter from Triton's genocidal push, and keeping their housing and food orderly required thousands of his warriors. Artorion was crowded, and its resources were strained, but they weren't at the limit of what they could do yet. Thankfully, panic was also being kept in check, though whether that was due to the dome of light protecting the valley or the greater distance between Triton and the valley's walls, Leon couldn't say.

He also didn't care much, either—so long as peace was maintained without harshly punishing people for the slightest of infractions, he was fine with more hands-on measures from his people given the circumstances. Further afield, he could sense that in the north, skirmishes had broken out around Lancefoot if the smoldering arks were anything to go by. He estimated that his people had gotten the better of Triton's, but not by much. The situation up there was still fluid and could go either way.

He could feel temptation's sweet breath on his ear, urging him to fly up there first and ruin Triton's northern fleet, if only to free up his own northern fleet. But he restrained himself until he could meet with the rest of his officers and commanders. As he walked, he couldn't help but admire the defenses of the valley.

The misty veil, the dome of light, and the flexing tendrils of Lumenite that extended from Nestor's home had him thinking that the dead man was more heavily involved in his capital city's defense than he might admit.

"Still no word from Miuna or her father?" he asked quietly.

"None," Elise answered just as dejectedly.

"I sent some queries into the King's Ocean, but…"

"The arrogant shits think themselves better than Storm Lords," Cassandra said scornfully.

"They've refused all communications with us." A scowl etched itself deeply into Leon's face, and he didn't answer. Anger and concern hung over him like death's own shrouds, but he couldn't spare them much thought with Triton at his gates. As he, his wives, and the rest of his entourage entered the main palace area, people stopped what they were doing to stare in relief and awe, hope visibly rekindling in their eyes at seeing their King up and about.

Older officials, Tempest Knights guarding the halls, younger officials acting as runners and assistants for their seniors, sometimes outright stopping and staring as they moved from office to office; Leon saw it all, and though he maintained a stoic expression, he could feel the weight of their expectations. Every one of them believed wholeheartedly that he would bring them victory. He always had, after all.

'And I always will,' he silently vowed. A few minutes later, he walked into a conference room with some of his highest officers and officials. He glanced around the room and made eye contact with everyone, but those he was actually looking for were at one end of the long hall. Gaius was quietly speaking with Alix, while Alcander and Marcus were poring over a map together.

Anshu was at the center of a group of Admirals and Generals—he was on the shortlist to replace the Jaguar, if a replacement was needed, and it seemed like the other officers were deferring to him. Ipatameni, meanwhile, was with Anzu and several elders, including Xanthippe and some bloodthirsty Lions. Of everyone in the room, it was those Lions who attracted his attention the most. Killing intent roiled and churned around them like a deadly maelstrom from which nothing could escape.

He supposed it was understandable, though—between losing Menander and many of their finest out in the planes, they returned from taking their vengeance to find that much of the Lions' territory east of the Artor Valley had been ravaged in their absence. Leon could fully understand their fury, and he was grateful beyond expression for their restraint in his palace. Finally, his eyes landed on Nestor in a corner, several giants and a tree sprite with him, none of whom Leon recognized.

He had no idea what they were talking about, but Nestor clearly didn't think it was all that important given his dismissive body language. He didn't imagine the dead man was going to offer him too much more than what he'd done so far, but Leon was immensely grateful for what he'd done so far. All of the conversation in the room died as Leon entered, his all-encompassing aura demanding attention without him having to say a word. Still, he announced, "I'm alive and well, as all of you can see.

Now, we have a campaign to win. Let's waste no more time." He took a seat at the head of the table, wondering as he sank into the plush armchair only why Xaphan or Red weren't present, given their personal investment in making sure Artorion wasn't destroyed. He was almost insulted that Xaphan, in particular, wasn't there, given their long partnership, though he let that annoyance out in a deep breath. He didn't need Xaphan physically present; he knew the demon cared about him, at least.

Leon's eyes danced across the room, once again making eye contact with everyone. Silence fell upon the hall that was so complete that a mortal could've heard a mouse's footsteps with ease.

"All of you know the situation, I'm sure. And I'm sure that some of you have options for how to proceed. Let's hear them." Hesitation ran thickly through the hall, but Alcander was the first to speak, much to Leon's gratitude since he imagined he'd set a quick cadence and encourage the others to get to their point quickly.

"The people of this city are tired of hiding, Your Majesty. Now that our resources have greatly expanded, we should strike hard and fast, using all of the weapons we have available."

"Aggression will only lead to greater casualties," Marcus countered.

"We can accomplish much with a more restrained approach. Given how much our enemy outnumbers us by, we shouldn't be so quick to jump into battle."

"We can't remain cowering behind the storm wall forever!" Alcander hissed, and Leon couldn't help but think that the man was upset at not having had much to do himself over the past year; his duties as the leader of the Tempest Knights simply didn't allow for such individual action.

"Neither can we run straight into the waiting arms of our enemies," Marcus shot back. Leon himself sat back, listening to their perspectives on how to achieve victory. Others began chiming in as it became clear that Leon was going to allow a more flexible debate than usual. But they all largely amounted to the same question: focus on offense, or defense? Though he didn't participate much in the discussion, preferring to just listen, Leon already knew which one he'd prefer.

While he might hesitate to call upon death lightning or the Eye of Calamity again for a while, if only to keep himself from passing out from exertion again, he knew that he could still do a tremendous amount of damage. Triton and his mysterious weapon that he'd used against his mother were the only things that truly gave him pause. But they were going to fight; that much Leon knew. And he fully intended to cleave Triton's head from his shoulders when the time came.

And though he continued to let the debate go on around him, he began formulating his own plan, one that was going to see Triton and his forces either dead at his feet or evicted entirely from the Storm Lands…