Chương 1361: 1391 - End of a Century II

As Leon landed in one of his palace's courtyards, he was greeted by a crowd of people all dressed splendidly and wearing wide smiles. He, however, had eyes only for the four women standing in front of them all. The moment his boots touched marble, Cassandra darted forward, her long blond hair trailing behind her in a loose ponytail as she threw her arms around his shoulders.

Her twelfth-tier aura flexed joyously, and if they weren't in public, Leon imagined that the golden ensemble she wore would've come off in a heartbeat.

"You won!" she shouted, her voice ringing with heat. When she pulled back, desire burned hotly in her ruby-colored eyes. As much as Leon wanted to explore that heat, he kept his hands respectful, pulling back with a Kingly smile.

"I won," he stated. To her credit, Cassandra didn't pout, but Leon could tell that she wanted to. Instead, she made room for Elise to slide in behind her. The fire-haired woman had dressed all in red, and mirth glittered in her emerald eyes even as relief tugged at the corners of her lips. She took Leon into her embrace more loosely than Cassandra had, but Leon could still feel promise in the way her touch lingered.

She pulled back, her dress swishing over her delicate honey-brown calfskin shoes, and gold and rubies shining at her neck, fingers, and ears. But all of these signs of wealth paled in comparison to the shine of her own twelfth-tier aura.

"No one doubted for a second that you would return victorious," she said, the praise coming naturally despite the hundred or so servants, handmaidens, and Tempest Knights watching them.

"Us least of all," Valeria added, her blue silkgrass training attire clinging modestly to her generous curves, the silver trim gleaming brightly. Her face could've been carved from white marble for all the emotion it showed, but Leon could see her elation at his return sparkling in her sapphire eyes. She embraced him, enveloping him in her twelfth-tier aura and bringing her soft lips close to his ear.

"I'll expect a complete breakdown of the fight later." When she pulled back, her gaze remained warm, but there was fresh iron there, and Leon didn't for a moment think to deny her the details of the fight.

"Of course," he replied.

"It was a quick fight, but that hardly means that Joramhal lacked skill. He was a capable warrior, and he fought well." [No one cares about a dead fool,] Maia declared as she finally thrust herself forward, her thirteenth-tier aura proudly cutting through the others as she wrapped herself around Leon. [I'd rather have taken his head myself, for forcing my mate from my side.]"It was my fight, and it was honorably fought," Leon replied as he returned Maia's embrace.

Her sea green dress complemented her bronze skin tone well, but Leon discovered a hidden enchantment within that not only had his hands feeling like they were gliding over her bare skin but also opened her entirely to his magic senses. Clothing was typically worn so closely to the body that magic senses washed over them rather than through them, so Leon knew that this was intentional.

[Finish your work quickly,] Maia hissed into his mind, though her smile challenged him to ignore all else in favor of making up for a few weeks' absence from their bed. [I would have my mate beneath me for at least an hour.] Leon smirked, though his heart fell slightly at the reminder that his ladies weren't the only ones waiting for him. [Only an hour?] he replied. [It would be longer, but I'm gracious enough to allow the others their turns.] Maia gave him an impish grin, and it was only with titanic effort that Leon was able to pull away from her without annihilating the few layers of maddening silkgrass and leather that separated them and taking her right then and there.

"Bring us tales of victory," Elise demanded imperiously, "when you're done with everything else."

"Victory past and future," Cassandra added as she turned from Leon and sashayed away. His other ladies did the same, rolling their hips so much that, were Leon even a marginally weaker man, he knew that he would've canceled all other meetings regardless of importance and followed them to hot baths, soft sheets, and pleasures beyond mortal ken. It wasn't until the last of their handmaidens and Tempest Knight detail followed them out that Lucianus finally stepped forward, his eighth-tier aura wavering slightly.

"Are they here already?" Leon asked, hoping against hope that the objects of his question were not as consistently reliable as they always were.

"They are," Lucianus responded with an almost apologetic smile. A sigh that shamed hurricane wind blew through Leon's lips.

"Fine," he said.

"Let's get it over with, then." After lowering his head slightly, Lucianus walked at Leon's side through the halls of the palace, lined by Tempest Knights at every junction and outside every door. The trapezoidal halls glimmered with murals, both projected and physical, many showing the submission of Strategoi, Despots, and Basileis to Leon that had happened over the past century. At the final door separating the residential part of the palace from the rest, Leon found his Paladins waiting.

Of those in their ranks, he'd only taken Anzu with him to the duel with Joramhal as he wanted his Paladins to remain behind and focus on their training given how close to ascension some of them were. He was glad to see that the extra time paid off.

"Graniton," Leon breathed, awed at the sight of the eye-catching giant.

"You achieved Apotheosis. I wish I had been here to see it…" His golden eyes drank in the sight—Graniton inhabited a golem frame built for war, but given its position, Nestor had spent a considerable amount of time making sure that it was worthy of being in the presence of the head of the Thunderbird Clan. The frame was large, standing at just over ten feet tall, and incorporated all of the advancements that Mari'Kha had made in the latest generation of Ulta suits.

The frame was primarily made of Aurichalcum, while Lumenite glimmered in the gaps. The armor, stormy gray in color, flashed with occasional lightning bolts that flickered beneath the armor's surface. Weapons and protective enchantments ensured that Graniton was quite possibly the most heavily-armed warrior in Leon's service, with two of the latest Lightning Lances hidden in its arms and deadly blades of blue light that could extend from its wrists.

All of that paled in comparison to the light shining from the eyes—the golden light that shone from the wispy true form of the giant within the frame. The giants were like living lightning bolts inhabiting first stone, and now metal, but in Graniton, Leon could sense more than that. The giant wasn't just a conscious lightning wisp anymore; there was more there, something deeper that spoke to primal powers that Leon could only tease at.

It took an immense amount of effort for Leon to tear his eyes away from Graniton, and within his soul realm, he could feel Iron Pride vibrating slightly, as if the Iron Needle were resonating with the eleventh-tier power he could feel coming from the giant.

"It has been an enlightening experience, becoming so connected to the universe," Graniton rumbled, its voice more cavernously deep than it had ever been.

"It will be difficult putting what I now sense in words that my people can understand. Hopefully, they will all come to understand." The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"An army of post-Apotheosis giants would have made me shiver in fright, once upon a time," Marcus said with a wry grin.

"But now? Even the sweetest music sounds harsh and off-key compared to that phrase.

'Army of post-Apotheosis giants.'" A, perhaps put-on, shiver raced through Marcus, and Leon couldn't say that he was wrong. He could, however, take umbrage with Marcus' presence in his palace.

"Aren't you supposed to still be on leave?" Leon sternly asked.

"Helen practically kicked me out," Marcus stated with an apologetic grin.

"She heard you'd come back and demanded that I be here. I think that she just wanted me out of the house for a bit. I may have been a little… overzealous in trying to take care of her and our newborn." Leon was about to offer his congratulations on the birth of Marcus and Helen's son when Alcander wrapped his arm around Marcus' shoulders and practically put him into a tight headlock.

"It's about time you learned!" the much larger man sternly grumbled, his Adamant armor hardly even whispering even as Marcus struggled to force himself free of Alcander's trunk-like arm.

"Ahh, I shouldn't be handling you so roughly. Helen's such a sweetheart normally that she's almost certainly a mother dragon now that she has to take care of a crying baby." Leon smiled for a moment, his thoughts turning to Serana as Alcander finally released Marcus. The Great Dragons hadn't lingered long in Artorion after Serana finally discovered a transformation enchantment that they could use, and led by her, Ouros, Rayos, Nyra, and Jennifyr, all in dragon form, they returned to Arushae.

The others—including Nyra, much to the young dragon's consternation—remained in Arushae, but Serana had come back to Artorion after only a few months, and she stayed there, almost never leaving for the entire past century. However, she'd left about six months before Leon's duel with Joramhal to celebrate Jennifyr's ascension to the thirteenth-tier in Arushae, and was expected back within the next half year.

"If Helen hears you talking about her like that right now," Marcus warned his friend, "she will bite your head off. Right now, she's so damned stressed that I can barely talk to her without getting a glare or two."

"She'll calm down once your boy can sleep for longer than five seconds at a time," Alcander said with a knowing nod.

"You both will." Leon smirked, happy that they were both with him like this again. It wasn't like 'old times', but he could hear those old times echoing through his palace now that Alcander had 'retired' as the commander of the Tempest Knights and become one of his Paladins. Both he and Marcus had reached the twelfth-tier, and after reaching that particular milestone, Alcander had asked to leave that position in favor of another.

He didn't want to 'sit in the chair until his ass wore a divot in the seat', as he put it. Leon hadn't wasted a moment making his old friend a Paladin, which he'd accepted. It was for the best, Leon reasoned. While he would've kept Alcander in that position for as long as he'd wanted to remain in it, he knew that sometimes those in power had to leave and let the younger generations take over, or else the Kingdom as a whole would stagnate.

The thought of what might happen to his Kingdom if he could never figure out his own fertility problems frequently appeared in his nightmares, and to distract himself from the thought's specter, he gave the rest of his Paladins a quick inspection. As with Marcus and Alcander, Alix, Anna, Daryun, and Zhang had all reached the twelfth-tier.

They'd all recovered well from the injuries sustained against Triton and Antipatra, and against any common mage of the same tier—as much as a twelfth-tier mage could be considered 'common'—Leon rated his Paladins extraordinarily highly. When Graniton achieved Apotheosis, it had done so following Lana's example, as the Bison had reached the eleventh-tier not even a decade past.

Leon imagined that Tillan, her father, was more than a little relieved that he wouldn't have to live so long as to see his daughter's death; they were now both immortal and could at least face eternity together. His eyes then slid to his two remaining Paladins, who were also his two newest and two youngest Paladins, to boot.

One, a young man tall in stature and powerful in build, with dark blue hair cropped short, an ever-present smirk on his handsome face, and eyes of ocean-blue; and the other, golden-haired and golden-eyed, with pale skin and a much thinner, though still strong physique. These were the human forms of Nidar and Astar, the two wyverns that Anna and her wife Eirene had adopted and raised.

They were both still tenth-tier, but with Anna's blessing, Leon had offered them both positions as his Paladins, which they'd both accepted gratefully. As Anna said at the time, it wasn't like they were doing much on their own, and being paid to train all day and fight on rare occasions was as perfect a job for the brothers as they could ask for.

Feeling Lucianus' surprisingly heavy gaze from beside him, Leon stepped toward the door, and his Paladins went from friends fooling around to the consummate professionals that they were in a moment. They fell in just behind Leon, in between him and the squad of Tempest Knights behind them, who somehow managed to sharpen up now that they could be seen by their former commander.

They didn't have to go far to reach the High Ministers' meeting room, and when the thunder wood doors swung open and Leon entered, he found that he was the last to arrive. The room was packed with people, all of whom immediately rose upon his entrance. However, his attention was focused on the huge thunder wood table in the center of the room, where his High Ministers were waiting for him. His seat was the largest and most impressive, located at one end of the long table.

Iron-Striker, as his Chancellor, was seated to his right, and Ipatameni, as his Steward, was on his left. Further down the table sat Clear Day, his Chief Diplomat; Gaius, his Chief Praetor; Solomon, his Marshal after accepting Leon's offer to succeed the Jaguar; and Felix, Gaius and Alix's son, who had succeeded Alcander as the commander of the Tempest Knights. The past century had been good to all of them. Iron-Striker had healed, though the injuries Triton had inflicted upon him had kept him at the eleventh-tier.

Gaius, ever diligent, had reached the twelfth-tier—due in no small part to Felix achieving Apotheosis, and Gaius absolutely refusing to be magically weaker than his son. Ipatameni and Clear, however, remained at the eleventh-tier. Solomon, however, in a sign that he was taking his role as Marshal seriously, had doubled down on his training and reached the twelfth-tier.

All around the room were their subordinate ministers, along with a veritable legion of secretaries, other high-ranking bureaucrats, and the Chiefs and elders from the Ten Tribes who were present in the city. Few would speak during this meeting, though if any would, Leon imagined the words would come from either Singer-in-Caves, newly ascended to the twelfth-tier herself, or Sar, who yet remained at the eleventh-tier. Leon, almost immediately upon entering the room, commanded them, "Be seated."

Everyone shuffled back into their seats as the Paladins and Tempest Knights posted up just outside the room, and Lucianus followed Leon inside. However, instead of sitting with Leon, Lucianus sat closer to the edge of the room, with the rest of Leon's secretaries.

Leon himself quickly took his seat and, with the air filled with the sounds of the various scribes and bureaucrats readying themselves to present any reports they carried or to note down the entire meeting for record-keeping purposes, announced what they had all undoubtedly heard by now.

"Joramhal is dead by my hand, and his vassal Lords have almost universally submitted to me." Everyone but the scribes hurrying to record his words began applauding, with those from the Ten Tribes shouting in triumph and stomping their feet, too. Leon allowed it to go on for exactly five seconds before he flexed his aura, silencing the room immediately.

"His territories are now mine," he continued.

"At least, here in the Nexus. As I understand it, most of his planes are too far from Rhea to meaningfully control, even with our new fleets." Solomon didn't interrupt, but he nodded in agreement. Leon could also see Clear Day frowning slightly, but he remained quiet.

"With these new vassals," Leon pressed on, "We now have holdings within nine Great Strands, though outside of the Great Strand of Rhea, few of those are particularly large or wealthy holdings. Some match Demetrion, few exceed the cluster." Finally, Iron-Striker spoke.

"In line with our projections. We will rely on our strength to push deeper into Rhea and reach the ancient planes." A quiet murmur of agreement passed through the hall, and while Leon agreed with it, he also couldn't help but feel like he could press his new vassals harder if he wanted to, that they could contribute more than the relatively light tribute he'd imposed.

However, given his own still-shaky position as a thirteenth-tier Anax, and his fleets recovered but hardly as overwhelmingly large as others of that rank, he was handling the new Strategoi, Despots, and Basileis lightly. They would give him tribute, but he wouldn't demand their military service unless he truly needed to.

"Speaking of which," Leon said, "now that our position in the Nexus is about as secure as anyone could wish for, I say it's time to turn our attention back outwards." He glanced around the room, noting that while there were many present who'd been promoted from cities in the Far West or had risen from the already conquered planes, most of his leadership was still dominated by bloodline-bearing members of the Ten Tribes.

"The birthplaces of our Ancestors are out there, in Rhea and Atreus. Is it not time for us to take them back?"