The Storm King-Chapter 1186: Last Races

Sports had never been something that occupied much of Leon’s attention. Even as King, he’d only ever attend a few races or spars in various arenas, and he paid even less mind to the smaller sports that the Tribes played. As he contemplated the Belicenian Games, however, he found it stoking his spirit of competition. Miuna confirmed for him that chariot racing and gladiator fights were events in the Belicenian Games, though there were far more competitions than just those.

Still, those were going to be his best bets for winning any events, or even just putting on an honorable showing. So, about a week before his expedition to Kesken was set to launch, he found himself sitting in the Royal box in Artorion’s largest chariot race track, his wives at his side.

The arena was as grand as it ought to have been, given Elise’s much more enthusiastic support for the races—large enough to seat more than a hundred thousand and richly decorated with Tribal motifs. All ten Honored Ancestors of the Tribes were engraved in the arena walls separating the chariots from the stands, while in the center of the track was an enormous triumphal pillar, at the top of which was perched a life-sized statue of the Thunderbird, her wings spread as if she was readying herself to take flight.

Under normal circumstances, the Royal box was hardly a private place—it was set halfway along the track and situated so close to the chariots that one could almost hold out their hand and brush the chariot drivers’ hair as they raced past. The walls of the box were also open, giving the attendees of the races their best chance at seeing the Royal family with their own eyes without bringing a petition before the throne.

This time was rather different, however. The walls were still open, but the notable guest sharing the box with Leon and his family—save for Anzu—demanded special treatment. Miuna sat with Leon, though a dozen of her handmaidens were present, too, engaged mostly in holding and maintaining physical screens and curtains of magical darkness to prevent anyone from seeing their Princess directly. Her presence also demanded the box, which would normally be packed with Leon’s courtiers, to be almost deserted, save for Miuna, her handmaidens, and Leon and his family.

“Such a noisy place…” Miuna mused as the gleaming white marble arena slowly filled with spectators, many of them looking curiously in their direction. “How do you stand this?”

“All the noise?” Leon asked. “Easily enough. There are privacy enchantments in the walls, so the people can’t hear us, and if we so desire, we can block out their noise, too.”

“‘If you so desire…’” Miuna repeated slowly, as if the concept was almost alien. “How is that even a question? Why wouldn’t you separate yourselves from the masses? Such…” She trailed off, giving Leon the impression that she had caught herself before saying some unsavory things about his people.

He slightly pursed his lips as he considered how to respond when Elise beat him to the punch.

“It’s important to listen to your people, Princess. Complete isolation benefits no one.”

The curtains of shadow didn’t prevent Leon or his wives from seeing past them, though the physical screens still obscured most of Miuna’s figure. Still, he could see her turning to give him and his wives a look of extreme skepticism that even the screen couldn’t conceal.

“We are gods among mortals,” Miuna declared. “To know that they are ruled by such majestic beings as us ought to be enough for them. Keeping these… the people in their place is a matter of paramount importance. You’d never catch my father in a box like this. In Diluvia, we take the highest boxes for ourselves. Common eyes are forbidden from falling upon our forms.”

“And that doesn’t present any problems for you?” Elise asked skeptically.

“It’s a fine enough method for ensuring their rule,” Cassandra responded, her tone understanding if not quite approving. “Present themselves as gods, and the people will be less likely to rebel against them.”

“There is no ‘presentation’ about it,” Miuna argued. “We are gods, at least compared to the common sort.”

“How ‘common’ are the ‘common sort’ in your Ocean?” Leon asked with a deep frown. “There aren’t many large islands out in your Ocean; your people can’t all be powerful enough to survive down there.”

A light flashed in the box—the signal for Leon to announce the pre-race spectacles—but he ignored it in favor of listening to Miuna’s answer.

“There are plenty of places beneath the waves for the magically challenged to live,” Miuna stated. “The sea floor is a world unto itself, providing many ways for humans to live even in the deepest abyss… Though most of these places are maintained by the Lords who govern them.”

Leon nodded, though he’d have appreciated more specifics. Regardless, he rose from his seat and walked over to the edge of the box. Only about half of the arena was filled with spectators, but more were moseying in by the second. Since these games were celebrating the launch of the expedition, presales for tickets were high and the arena was expected to exceed ninety percent capacity.

The roar of the crowd noticeably died as Leon took up a position by the stone railing. With a wave of his hand, a silver-blue lightning bolt flashed between identical pillars on either side of the track, and with the boom of thunder, many doors at either end of the arena were flung open. Various beasts poured forth from the open doors in a parade of colorful fur, feathers, and scales. At the head of one column of beasts was a huge bird being ridden by a Bear Tribesman that utterly dwarfed him in size. Its plumage was shimmering reds, oranges, and yellows, and its fierce gaze promised violence for all that dared get in its way.

Despite its fierce appearance, Leon knew that it was as harmless as a puppy, for these parades were simply to show off and act as eye candy for the people. More than a hundred kinds of beasts would be paraded past, followed by ceremonial races, and then the chariot races proper would begin.

Such sights weren’t unique to his Kingdom, he was sure; the more unique showings were soon to come, however.

Leon returned to his seat, finding that the conversation continued in his momentary absence.

“It is only right that we rule!” Miuna insisted. “We are the strongest!”

“Is that the only criteria for determining what is right?” Valeria asked. “Who or what is strongest?”

“What other metric is there?” Miuna shot back. “If you have no power backing you up, then what authority do you have? How is anyone supposed to recognize your right to rule? How are you supposed to bring someone stronger than you to heel?”

“I don’t disagree,” Valeria mused. “But determining everything based on strength is a simplistic view of things, isn’t it?”

“I don’t see how it is,” Miuna growled. “It is the bedrock of our society. The strong rule, the weak obey. There is some nuance, but ultimately, all society comes down to this.”

“There are some societies,” Leon interjected, “that value the words of their elders. It is not uncommon to see the younger being more physically fit and able.”

“The elder is more likely to be a higher tier,” Miuna argued.

“Perhaps. But let’s take two tenth-tier mages as an example. One is nearly two millennia years old. The other is comparatively young at only five centuries. The younger is likely to be more physically fit, aren’t they?”

Though she didn’t verbally respond, and he couldn’t quite see enough of her face to tell, Leon imagined that the haughty Princess wore a magnificent scowl.

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“You’ll find that, all else being equal, it is often the older—and pre-Apotheosis, this will often mean physically weaker—people in charge. Their words are honored due to their wealth of wisdom and experience.”

“That hardly makes them harmless,” Miuna quietly pointed out.

“No, but it shows that there is some nuance to strength being the be-all and end-all. Is it not natural, likewise, for a child to honor and obey their parent, if not in all things then at least defer to his judgment? Even if the child is stronger than the parent?”

“How likely is that to be?” Miuna scoffed.

“Likely enough,” Elise stated pointedly.

“Removing yourself from public view is certainly one way to cement your authority,” Leon said. “And maybe you’ve earned it by virtue of your strength. I won’t argue against that—if it works for you, then great. But there are other ways to rule. Being here, in this box, is an easy way to cement my own authority beyond simply being ‘the strongest’ in my Kingdom. If my people can see me, can interact with me, then I become more to them than a simple idea. And sometimes, that’s enough.”

“That shouldn’t be necessary,” Miuna responded. “Your people should be doing what you tell them anyway.”

“People will surprise you,” Leon said. “I’ve seen people take actions that were almost suicidal out of fear and antipathy. With strength, you can force your people to do what you tell them.”

He paused, and Cassandra jumped in. “You’ll have to keep squeezing, then. Keep up the pressure. It’s hard to rule that way if you have to constantly suppress your own people.”

“Get your people to love you, to want to follow you, though…” Valeria added.

Elise finished with an almost triumphant smile, “And they’ll follow you without complaint. No need to expend force if you don’t have to. It’ll let you focus on other places, devote your attention to other problems—because the people won’t be problems that way.”

“This is why we’re here, in this box,” Leon said. He gestured to the more private boxes further up in the arena, small though they were. “And why we never sit in any of those.”

Miuna loudly huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. She glanced at Maia and asked, “And what do you think, my taciturn sister of the sea?”

[I agree with everything you’ve said,] Maia declared without a shred of irony. [No qualifications, you’re entirely right.]

“Ha!” Miuna shouted as she gave Leon, Cassandra, Valeria, and Elise a gloating look.

“We all have our opinions,” Leon said with a shrug as some of the more eye-catching beasts down in the arena began lining up for the first ceremonial race.

Naturally, races were meant to largely even affairs, so letting a massive, long-legged, flightless bird race a smaller, leaner, more vicious panther-like cat wouldn’t be encouraged in an official race. For a ceremonial race, however…

The Master of Ceremonies gave the order to begin the first ceremonial race after giving a short introduction to each creature that Leon had missed. His box momentarily fell into silence as the beasts raced around the track, dodging pillars that erupted from the ground to act as obstacles, and leaping over suddenly-appearing pits. Simple obstacles for the first race.

In the end, a hare twice the size of a hound won the race, hopping blazingly fast and leaving the other beasts in the dust. Cheers went up around the arena, though they were from a notable minority—as was usually the case since most of these beast races represented the Tribes or other subgroups in Leon’s Kingdom. In this case, it seems the hare was a chosen beast of the Hawks, as fifty or sixty took to their beast forms and flew around the track several times, letting glittering gold dust fall from their talons.

“Oooh,” Miuna whispered, finally expressing some awe in the race. “Leon, I’ve long been wondering about this and have never found a good time to ask… but why is your Kingdom so full of Ascended Beasts? Especially since so many of them are clearly of the same species… Is that even the right assumption to make? You can transform too, can’t you? Are you a human, or are you something else?”

Leon smiled at her, though he had little inclination to indulge her curiosity. “My people have their secrets, Princess,” he responded.

“And you won’t even give me a clue?” she asked. “Your oldest and most trusted friend in the Nexus?”

“Is that true?” Valeria cut in. “My husband is close with Prince Numa, and several others that he met here in the Nexus before you.”

“Leon… I am your oldest and closest and most valued and most beautiful friend here in the Nexus, aren’t I?” Miuna asked as she leaned over, trying to get as close to Leon as she could. Unfortunately for her, both Elise and Maia were in the way, and neither of them seemed willing to move to accommodate her.

“You’re… certainly something like that,” Leon diplomatically answered.

Miuna huffed and leaned back to her usual sitting posture. “I’m going to have to ask you to refine your judgment, Leon. To not recognize such a treasure as I doesn’t speak well of your discernment.”

“My judgment is quite fine, I think,” Leon said as he shot the Princess a cheeky grin.

She made a quite un-Princessy squawk, and Leon thought that it was only the fact that they were in public that she didn’t playfully poke at him. As it was, she was completely and utterly unwilling to leave her shadowy shroud, allowing Leon to escape her molten wrath—for the moment, anyway.

Silence descended upon the box again as the races continued, each victory racked up by the winning side leading to more and more elaborate displays of victory, culminating in a hundred Lions taking flight—almost leaping through the air in lion form—and conjuring an illusion above the stadium that showed the Lions reigning above the other nine Tribes, though they were careful to also show the Thunderbird above even the Lion.

When the ceremonial races ended and the chariot races proper were about to begin, Leon rose to his feet to address the crowd. They deserved to know what he’d signed them up for in the Belicenian Games, and they could use the motivation to perform at their very best.

The roar of approval from the crowd was deafening when Leon was finished, and the races that followed were so legendary that a new monolith was erected in the courtyard just outside the main entrance when the races were over, the victories etched into the stone.

---

The air thrummed with power as hundreds of magic engines pulsed with power, keeping just as many war machines in the sky over Artorion. Leon watched it all from his private observation deck on Storm Herald, his heart thumping loudly in his chest even as his steady hands were clasped at the small of his back.

Years of preparation, build-up, and training would pay off in this expedition. Iron-Striker’s concerns echoed through Leon’s mind as he contemplated the challenges ahead and the consequences of both failure and victory. No matter how this expedition panned out, his Kingdom would change. The challenges of running a Kingdom spread across part of one plane and extending into the Nexus was one thing—a proper interplanar Kingdom was a beast from a wholly different nightmare, and that wasn’t even touching on the cultural and societal drift that Iron-Striker was worried about.

But Leon wasn’t too concerned about that. Instead, his eyes drifted in the direction of a projected map of the universe—or at least, the parts of it that were relatively close to the Nexus. It would take about a day to reach the Kesken Cluster. A week out from there would land them at their next target: a tiny cluster of three planes, which together were smaller than Aeterna, though they still had more land in total. Three days from there and they’d reach a monstrous network of hundreds of planar clusters that extended out from the Nexus like a stream of light.

The universe was like that—the various planar clusters extended out from the Nexus in clumps that formed streams of matter and stars that bridged the Void between the Nexus and the Elemental Planes. Despite the apparent randomness in the way the Nexus violently destroyed itself every hundred thousand years and formed new planes from the debris, this still left large swathes of Voidspace apparently devoid of planar clusters.

These conquests Leon was planning would help him to bridge the gap between his exit portal from the Nexus to the wave of planar clusters that contained the cluster that contained Tiryns and Minos. The map he had from the Thunderbird Clan showed this cluster, and hundreds of clusters all around it, belonging to the Clan and its vassals and being quite well-populated.

The situation as Leon understood it now was that that sector of the universe was much changed compared to eighty-thousand years ago. The chaos in the wake of the Thunderbird Clan’s fall had led to heavy conflict in these areas, with Clan vassals and branch families all vying for dominance. There had been much depopulation, and the breakdown in communication had led to entire planar clusters going, and staying, dark.

There was little concrete information that Leon had from this huge swathe of the universe as many of the other universal powers weren’t yet cutting into these clusters in search of new territory. They were instead mostly focusing on securing their borders or warring in their own neighborhood. As far as Leon knew, therefore, most of his Clan’s old territory was still up for grabs.

Or, well, it could be, depending on the specific circumstances around each plane and planar cluster. For all he knew, there may still be former vassals living out there, content in being left alone and not interfering in the affairs of the Nexus. Or it could all be dead land, entire planar clusters left utterly depopulated after devastating wars of succession.

He wouldn’t know until his forces began sweeping through the area, and they couldn’t do that until they secured this corridor of planes, and they couldn’t do that until this expedition began.

Now, he was only quietly waiting alone on the observation deck for word from Anshu. His eyes momentarily flickered in the direction of Westmount as he waited; his wives were staying behind to maintain Royal authority in his absence. If all went well, he’d be back in only a matter of months.

He breathed deeply, steadying himself for what was to come.

In.

And out.

In.

And out.

In.

And—a knock at the door shook him from his thoughts. He spoke a word and the door opened, revealing Lucianus.

Word had arrived. It was time. He gave the order, and his expeditionary force accelerated northward, toward the portal.

The expedition had begun.