Chương 1349: 1379 - Alderion

The wind coming off the Drum Desert was fierce and swelteringly hot, but Leon paid it no mind. As he watched the swirling dust storm in the distance, in the eddies and flashes of lightning, he saw moving shapes that were doubtlessly Alderion's arks. He couldn't tell much about them other than that the Anax had come with a large fleet, and some of those arks were massive. Many of his warriors exited their arks along with him. Tempest Knights, Ulta suits, and giants inhabiting frames designed for war joined them.

Leon hovered ahead of them all, taking the only place a King should: at the front, in the most prominent position. Beside him were his Paladins in the armor he'd forged for them. Anzu, Alix, Marcus, and Graniton were on his right, while Zhang, Daryun, Anna, and Lana were on his left. Joining him were Cassandra, Valeria, Maia, and Red. Directly behind him was his main fleet, led by his ancient arks.

Storm Herald was the most eye-catching, given its size and power, but Bolt in Shadow, Bright Intent, and Silver Spear gleamed in the Origin Spark's light. Anshu, Clear, and Elise remained aboard Storm Herald. Fanning out from them were his vassals and allies. The Tribes were on his right, while Archelaus and his Strategoi anchored the right end. Illum, Ingrid, and Theron took up the same positions on his left. Separate enough from his main grouping were Triyr and Miuna.

Triyr was on his right, his fleet of broad-winged arks contrasting sharply with Leon's more slender, almost dart-like arks. Miuna, however, had brought only her jellyfish war beast, though Leon knew from experience that the creature was extraordinarily powerful. The leaders of all of these respective contingents joined him in the blistering heat, making their intent to fight clear. He'd been particularly insistent to Miuna that she was under no obligation to join him, but she was even more insistent that she did.

She was a Despotissa, she'd told him, and the favored daughter of the Ocean King. She was no stranger to war, and if she didn't join her ally in battle, then she wouldn't forgive herself. Leon hadn't argued after that. He was grateful for her support, especially given how easy it would be to abandon him, given the threat a fourteenth-tier mage posed.

While Alderion was close enough to the King's Ocean for Miuna's father to lead a heavy punitive expedition against him if Miuna were harmed, Alderion was also powerful enough that he could reasonably expect to survive such an expedition. That left Miuna with no guarantee of safety, not even from her father, and that made her decision to stand with Leon mean even more to him. It didn't take long for Alderion's fleet to finally present itself.

There was enough distance between Leon's fleet and the edge of the dust storm that Alderion taking up positions within the storm was unfeasible—not that he seemed particularly concerned as he boldly led his fleet from the storm. Despite the intensity of the storm, his arks emerged almost sparkling, their hulks all colored in golden hues. They appeared large and lumbering to Leon's eyes, nearly every class of ark in Alderion's fleet about half again as large as Leon's arks.

However, that extra size came from thicker frames that meant that, while they shared Leon's arks' general shape, made them look almost swollen. Given their auras, Leon couldn't imagine that they were any more powerful for all that size compared to his arks, and his visual scans at least indicated a similar number of weapon hardpoints along their hulls.

The size was impressive, and might speak to more powerful defenses, but Leon could tell immediately that his arks were more maneuverable and at least matched Alderion's weapon for weapon. As for their personal power… Alderion himself had done the same as Leon, choosing to lead his arks from the front rather than hiding away in his enormous flag ark, only a hundred feet or so shorter than Storm Herald itself.

The Anax cut an impressive figure, pushing his arks forward in golden Adamant armor that, in contrast to his swollen arks, looked quite trim and thin on his athletic body. The armor was heavily decorated, every available surface either embossed with lightning and storm imagery or etched with tiny runes that glimmered like polychromatic gems in his golden armor.

He flew with his helmet off, revealing almost milk-white skin, glittering electric blue eyes, and chin-length golden hair that looked like it had been perfectly styled to blow majestically as he cut through the desert air. Alderion made eye contact with Leon, and despite the miles between them, Leon felt the full force of his aura slam down upon him. His armor creaked and he felt his muscles flex, but he otherwise weathered this onslaught well.

With a wave of his hand, Alderion halted the advance of his fleet just past the edge of the dust storm. A quick estimate lent more than a little credence to Archelaus' estimate of ten thousand war arks, to Leon's roughly eight and a half thousand, including Triyr's fleet. Not an overwhelming numerical advantage, but one large enough to make a difference. His fleet halted, Alderion advanced, confidence alighting on his face. Two dozen others followed from various arks.

One was thirteenth-tier, looking almost like Alderion's opposite—dark-skinned and rugged of face, dressed in black armor with a red cloak spilling behind him—and four were twelfth-tier. The rest were eleventh-tier. Leon breathed deeply, recognizing that they were coming to talk given their lack of killing intent and rather sedate speed. He chose to advance, too, wanting to meet in the middle. His wives, Paladins, and Red followed him while his Tempest Knights stayed behind.

From further down his line, Triyr, Archelaus, Ingrid, Illum, Theron, and Miuna—the Ocean Princess ensconced within a heavily enchanted palanquin—along with a couple of their attendants, also pushed forth to join him. Their groups met in the center of what was sure to be a battlefield.

They didn't construct any great pavilions nor conjure any other more 'appropriate' meeting site for mages of their caliber; instead, they hovered in the sky with naught below them but the shifting sands of the desert, growling as the wind collapsed and rebuilt entire village-sized dunes. Both parties halted with about fifty feet between them—a more than comfortable distance for them all to speak, given their individual power. Alderion spoke first, laughing loudly as he looked upon Leon's group.

"So we finally meet, scion of the Thunderbird!" he thundered, his words lilting from a slight accent.

"I've heard so much about you over the past century that, had I not been consumed by more pressing matters, I would have come here long ago!"

"My Kingdom," Leon replied coldly, "welcomes guests."

"Hmph. Yes.

'Guest'. Would I have come as a mere guest, though? You would not have welcomed me as readily then, nor do you seem to be welcoming me now!"

"No mere guest arrives with ten thousand arks at his back." Alderion's eyes flickered to Archelaus before returning to Leon.

"Let us not mince words, Leon of the Thunderbird Clan. Your strength, while great, does not even come close to what your predecessors possessed. This is not the same Elemental Land that they ruled with iron and thunder. We Storm Lords have found ourselves liberated from feathered tyrants, and nothing will make us lower ourselves again!" If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. Leon glanced at Alderion's entourage.

Despite his lofty statement, none of them so much as blinked. Even Alderion himself spoke in an almost flat tone, as if what he was saying aloud were less a passionate belief and more something he was almost saying out of obligation. However, Alderion's demeanor shifted to something craftier as his eyes once again swept across Leon's ranks.

"Then again… perhaps some were born to bow… Archelaus, Illum… you owe me your fealty. I am your rightful Anax. Bow to me, abandon this relic, and I will consider this matter… resolved. At least as far as you two are concerned." Archelaus and Illum exchanged a look, and Leon's heart seized for a moment. Then, Archelaus said, "Your grace, while appreciated, is unneeded.

We have found our preferred place, and it is with the bloodline that brought glory and prosperity to the Storm Lands for generations beyond counting."

"Aye," Illum agreed.

"And we'd rather not place ourselves at your 'mercy' again. We know where that leads…"

"Adding slander to your list of offenses…" Alderion whispered harshly, though a vicious grin was spreading across his face.

"The spirits of war will sing my praises today, while the spirits of loyalty have already condemned you both." He shrugged and added, "So be it." His blue eyes swiveled again, this time landing on Miuna's shadow within her palanquin.

"And an Ocean Lord… Your Ancestors look upon you and weep, boy, for selling out this Elemental Land for a salty fish." A'Rei stepped forward, fury flashing in her eyes more intensely than the lightning behind Alderion's fleet.

"You are before Princess Miuna, you uncouth simpleton! Watch your tongue, or it will be cut from your worthless mouth!" As A'Rei looked ready to continue—possibly to launch into a list of Miuna's many titles—Alderion's aura came crashing down, and almost in time with the thunder behind him, roared, "AND YOU ARE BEFORE ALDERION, ANAX UNPARALLELED IN THE WEST!"

A'Rei staggered in the air, and Miuna, unmoved behind the gauzy screen of her palanquin, said quietly but more than audibly, "My Divine Father has allied himself to Basileus Leon Raime, Anax Alderion. The might of the Ocean King himself buoys my dear friend upward, and if you insist on continuing with threats, then you will taste the ocean's wrath." Alderion sneered.

"Your father is not here, girl, and the distant ocean is no threat to nearby fire. Though… I appreciate your tongue; perhaps when this is over, I will bring you back to my palace, have you consecrated before the spirits of love, and then see how much more enjoyment I wring from that tongue of yours…" In a blatant insult, Alderion turned away from Miuna and coldly regarded Triyr.

"Trian, isn't it?"

"Triyr," Triyr growled.

"Why are you here, Trian?" Alderion asked, not acknowledging in any way Triyr's correction.

"Surely you have done as any upstanding man should and consulted the spirits before coming here? Surely your pious auguries would have shown this to be a terrible decision? To stand against one such as me for one so hated throughout the Storm Lands… well, at least I can say that you are a brave man…"

"Nothing erases past dishonors," Triyr said, "but that is no reason not to live honorably. To stand with Leon Raime against you is the honorable thing, and so I will."

"A brave fool, then." Alderion snorted derisively before finally turning back to Leon, ignoring everyone else.

"Bow to me, Thundechicklet. Bow to me, and I will overlook how you have attempted to usurp my authority, how you took advantage of the tragic passing of Basileus Ramin to try and steal my rightful vassal Lords. Bow to me, and I will even allow you to be my Basileus, and to keep what you have stolen.

"But if you do not bow, then I will slaughter you like a half-grown chicken, offer your heart to the spirits of the home, and end your cursed bloodline once and for all." Alderion's eyes flitted to Leon's wives, and his derision grew.

"And one more thing… I'll take those women behind you as my newest concubines, have them serve me however I wish, and—" Before he could finish, a gargantuan clap of thunder roiled over the desert, causing the sands to shake and boom as dunes were knocked over. Above Storm Herald appeared three new arks, each one gargantuan, larger even than Jason Keraunos' flag ark. Leon's eyes widened in shock and elation, recognizing them all.

They were the flag arks from three of the Great Dragon Clans: the Great Black, Gold, and Blue Dragon Clans. Nightmarishly intense auras spilled forth from all three, and in moments, warriors in numbers beyond counting spilled from the enormous arks.

Leading them were figures that Leon recognized: Rayos, Patriarch of the Great Gold Dragon Clan and Nyra's father; Ouros, Patriarch of the Great Blue Dragon Clan with his daughter Jennifyr at his side; and finally, Leon's maternal grandfather and Patriarch of the Great Black Dragon Clan, Fargrim. All were armored and ready for war, killing intent spilling from their bodies in oceans that dwarfed any that flowed in the Nexus.

Leon wouldn't have been surprised if the entire Nexus could sense their coming from the intensity of their auras, and while it washed over his people harmlessly, Leon also watched Alderion stagger in mid-air and turn pale, while for the first time, those beside him visibly hesitated and looked to their Anax for guidance. Alderion, however, could only right himself and stare in shock as the four dragons joined their meeting.

Jennifyr was the quickest of the four, rushing down to almost tackle Leon in the air, pulling him into a tight hug.

"Ahh, my everdark nephew! It's been too long! When will you be visiting Arushae? You must visit soon! All seven Clans have been waiting to welcome you as a Prince should be welcomed!"

"I… uh…" Leon gasped as Jennifyr only held him more tightly.

"My dear daughter," Ouros growled, "pests must be dealt with first before we indulge anything else…"

"Yes, yes, of course," Jennifyr said as she finally released Leon and hovered beside him. Her blue eyes almost glowed as she furiously regarded Alderion, though she didn't speak. Instead, and to Leon's surprise, it was Rayos who took the lead, hovering between Fargrim and Ouros.

"Anax Alderion," Rayos said, his deep voice crackling like distant thunder, his tone as dismissive as if he were speaking the name of an insect he'd just crushed under a boot.

"You trespass upon land claimed by a Great Dragon. Begone, or suffer the dragon's wrath." His tone left no room for argument, but Alderion, his face now turning red from both anger and exertion against the combined auras of three fifteenth-tier mages, growled, "I will not relinquish what is mine so easily! I will NOT!" Rayos didn't even hesitate, raising his hand with white-gold lightning flashing around his fingers, magic concentrating sharply as he prepared to remove Alderion for good… …

when Leon suddenly interjected.

"There is another way we can resolve this…" Everyone froze, and Leon felt all of their attention fall squarely upon him. He endured it well, however, his mettle supported by a black pit of wrath that had opened when Alderion's eyes had fallen upon his wives. Now with his dragon kin behind him, a new possibility occurred to him between the waves of relief that flowed through his body.

"What do you suggest?" Fargrim rumbled, a hint of concern in his tone that Leon almost hadn't expected. That he was willing at all to hear Leon out nearly shocked him speechless. After a moment of sizing up Alderion, Leon found himself feeling more than a little confident.

However, he needed another moment of thought to figure out if this was just the rush of having such powerful reinforcements arrive almost literally at the last minute and practically guarantee his win, or if this was genuine and well-considered confidence. Alderion was strong; there was no denying that. He had become Anax by killing his predecessor and maintained his rule through force of arms.

He was a fourteenth-tier mage, and made sure that his subordinate Basileis didn't get ideas, especially about following his path to power. But Leon was confident in his abilities, too—even more so after his fights against Antipatra and Triton. He was sure that Alderion had his own tricks, but as far as he could tell, he wasn't a Khosrow cultist, nor was he a storied warrior within the Storm Lands. He was strong, but as far as Anakes went, not special.

Leon's fingers twitched, almost summoning Iron Pride right then and there. Finally, he gave voice to his thought, hatred soaking his voice.

"I challenge you to a duel, Anax Alderion. To the death."