The Storm King

Her heart was a hammer in her chest, beating with deep anxiety and regret. Others may claim that she had done all that she could and that she had no choice, but she knew better—in the face of losing sovereignty, there was always more that could be done, if one could stomach the cost.

She couldn’t. She had oft berated herself for being weak for taking this course of action, but after a century of pressure, there simply weren’t any choices left to make if she wanted her realm to prosper.

There were a few minutes left until she had to leave and subject herself to her coming humiliation, but she was ready to go. She was dressed in her full regalia, her moon-like dress gleaming even in the dull light of the morning. Clear diamonds glittered in the folds of her dress, while sapphires sparkled in her bodice. About her brow rested a silver crown inlaid with more sapphires and embossed with floral patterns, accentuated by her hair pulled into a low, loose bun.

With nothing else to do, she went to the large window overlooking the estate she’d stayed in for nearly a week. It was a misty morning in the valley, with the light of the Origin Spark causing much of the mist to practically glow amidst the trees. The estate was fairly deep into the forest in the southwest of the ring-shaped valley, but she could see the light of Artorion in the distance.

Artorion. A century and a half ago, this place had been devoid of people, wild and untamed. Now, a grand city had been built here, bisected by a fork of the Blue Feather River. A million people called it home, while hundreds of millions more had settled in the empty lands outside of the valley. The Far West had become a beacon of civilization in so short a time. She could easily remember a time when such a thing would’ve been thought impossible, when the threat of the Ocean Lords caused everyone in the Far West to shiver in fear.

She was happy those days were over, but she wished the King of this new land had been content with what he had. Elation in Queenfall following his victory over the Ocean Lords had quickly given way to nervousness as his fleets conquered the cities of the Finger Lakes, then pushed his borders to the Bolt Mountains in the east and the Stormshroud Bay in the north. They hadn’t pushed further northwest into the Serpent’s Head Peninsula, but the emergence of such a power on their doorstep had everyone in Queenfall feeling insecure, especially since the King of Artorion was an acknowledged Strategos, stronger than everyone else in the Far West.

While Artorion’s fleets hadn’t flown further than their borders, pressure was inevitable. Two great cities remained autonomous in the Far West following Leon Raime’s conquest: Culain and Queenfall. Culain submitted a century after Raime’s conquest, the economic and strategic situation demanding their submission. She knew that Culain had been given generous terms, however, and didn’t begrudge them their decision.

She maintained her city’s independence for as long as possible, but with Leon Raime on one side and the Ocean Lords on the other, her choice was easy. She’d come to Artorion to take the same deal that Leon Raime had offered others. This was the last day she could call herself a Queen.

Queen Farah didn’t consider herself a proud woman. She was as proud as her position demanded she be, and she certainly had things that she was proud of, but her pride didn’t factor much into her decision-making—at least, in her estimation. Still, the need to submit herself to Leon Raime, no matter how generous his terms, rankled her deeply.

To some extent, he was living up to that expectation. Farah had never even laid eyes on the man, with him remaining in his grand palace even after she’d arrived. Her first time seeing him would be in his own court. Still, Queen Cassandra had allayed some of those thoughts, assuring her that her husband was simply busy with personal business and would give her a proper welcome later.

Farah hadn’t known what that ‘personal business’ was until the evening two days ago when a sudden cheer went up in the city and impromptu celebrations began. Farah was told a few hours later that Leon Raime’s first wife had managed to achieve Apotheosis. She was the last of his wives to do so, and with the certainty that all members of their ruling family were immortal, the celebrations in Artorion lasted throughout the next day. Even now, Farah could hear some parts of Artorion continuing their celebrations.

A knock at her door pulled her from her thoughts. She called for it to be opened, and her son stepped inside. Her perfect, darling son entered the room, cutting the image of the King he could’ve, should’ve, one day become. Tall, handsome, and affable, smartly dressed, strong, and diligent, with the slightly darker complexion of his father and her pale white hair. He was dressed as magnificently as she was, though when he entered, he wore no smile.

“Mother,” he whispered, the ghost of a smile flickering across his lips, “it’s time.”

Farah sighed. The time had come. It was time to visit Leon Raime’s palace and lay her crown at his feet, completing his dominance of the Far West, bringing all of the independent cities under the command of a Despot.

She crossed the room and pulled her only child into her arms. “I’m sorry,” she whispered in their native tongue, feeling his seventh-tier aura recoil slightly at her tone. “My crown should’ve been yours.”

When she released him, he held her shoulders and gave her a sad, yet comforting look. She still marveled that she now had to look up at him, when she clearly remembered him being no taller than her knee, and though she was a tenth-tier mage, she took no small comfort in the strength of his grip on her shoulders.

“It’s just a bit of enchanted silver,” he said. “Nothing much changes. And it’ll be mine anyway. Just with a different title attached. Now… let’s get this over with and go home.”

She nodded, and together, they made their way out of the lavish guest estate, sparing no thoughts for the many-pillared halls or the gleaming marble, collecting servants and retainers as they went. By the time they reached the estate’s forecourt, their party was two hundred strong—two hundred of the strongest and grimmest men and women of her Kingdom, all made even grimmer for the reason they now found themselves in Artorion. In the forecourt, Queen Cassandra awaited them, her radiant aura putting even Farah’s to shame. She’d achieved Apotheosis nearly a century ago, but despite her power, she warmly greeted Farah and escorted her to a large, luxurious vehicle.

Cassandra, Farah, her son Khosrow—named for the Khosrow—and Parysatis, the commander of her guard detail, entered the silver and blue carriage. The seats were plush and comfortable, the walls of the carriage were enchanted to give them perfect views of the outside, and there was what looked like a small candleholder attached to the wall by the door. From that candleholder, a feminine humanoid figure appeared in projected light.

“We’re ready, Your Majesty.”

“Thank you, Tura,” Cassandra responded. “Take us out.”

The glowing figure of projected light bowed and vanished, and the carriage began to move, surrounded by a large entourage of her guards and Cassandra’s. Together, their parties numbered almost a thousand.

Down the road they traveled, soon reaching the convergence where the two branches of the Blue Feather River recombined. Dozens of arks flew patrols overhead, showcasing Leon Raime’s power, while statues, columns, and more honor guards lined the well-paced road, the most eye-catching of which were beings of metal standing ten to fifteen feet tall. Glowing trees lit their path, the light they shed causing them to look unnatural in the morning mist.

The enormous city lay before them, with its strange mish-mash of a dozen different architectural styles making for quite the strange sight, but their carriage turned northward, to a large fortress sitting on the north bank of the converging river. Their convoy made their way over the single bridge and into the fortress.

Perch Fortress, as it was formally known, was shaped like a square pillar with a hollow center. The thick sides were filled with soldiers and administrative personnel, while the reason for the hollow center became clear as their large convoy took positions upon a raised platform in the center of the floor. The platform was large enough for their convoy to comfortably fit, and once they were ready, the platform began to rise.

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Fifty stories high they were taken, and the roof simply vanished as they approached. The platform rose to fill that space, leaving their convoy now standing on the roof of the fortress. More columns and statues greeted them, along with more guards. These guards, however, were Tempest Knights, their shining plate armor and deadly halberds—all personally forged by their King, if the rumors were true—making for quite an intimidating sight.

The convoy waited there for several minutes until a bridge of white light suddenly appeared, connecting the top of the fortress with another, smaller fortress hanging off the lowest terrace of Leon Raime’s floating mountain like silver ivy.

The convoy then began making its way across the bridge, and Farah did her best not to look down. As a tenth-tier mage, she could, of course, fly, so the height didn’t bother her—rather, it was the direct look into the foreboding lake of mist below the floating mountain that she wanted to avoid looking at. No one liked thinking of Aesii, and she was in no hurry to look directly into one.

Instead, she looked out over the city. Enormous arenas, cloud-scraping towers, and crowded forums drew her eyes. Towering statues celebrating figures she didn’t recognize abounded, while her eyes locked onto one squat, though large, ring-shaped building. Though it wasn’t active, she had twice seen great bands of Lumenite connect to the building during her stay, all but stating exactly what its purpose was.

Her attention soon turned to the floating mountain as the convoy crossed the gap. It was a spectacular sight, held aloft by mind-bendingly powerful magic. It was no great leap to conclude that Leon Raime had taken whatever had lifted Kavad’s Lance for his own palace, but given the extensive growth and investment Lancefoot received following its annexation, Farah doubted anyone cared anymore. A century and a half, along with significant settlement meant that soon, only the more powerful mages would have personally witnessed Mountainfall. Already, Farah doubted even five percent of the city as it was now had been around for that calamity.

For the most part, the floating nine-peaked mountain remained wild, covered in greenery. The south side of the southernmost peak had been terraced, and there had been built Leon Raime’s palace, but aside from a few other ceremonial buildings—such as a large mausoleum and adjacent courtyard—the mountain bore few traces of human touch.

The nine peaks of the mountain were shaped into a rough circle, forming something of a valley between them. The mountain was so heavily enchanted that Farah couldn’t see what was in that valley, but in the misty morning, she could see an ethereal glow emanating from deep within, and the occasional flash of what looked like red lightning.

The palace itself on the south side was built into terraces. The storm cloud-colored outer walls were slanted, drawing the eye ever upward. Plant life abounded on the flat portions of the terraces, while the occasional bolt of golden lightning rippled across the surface of the strange, cloud-colored material the palace had been built from. Close to the southern peak lay the King’s opulent residence, while at the foot of the palace was a huge half-moon-shaped courtyard.

That courtyard was their destination.

“We have to get out here,” Cassandra said, their friendly, if strained, small talk having ended when they reached Perch Fortress.

Though the demand irked Farah, she understood it rationally. She was here to humble herself. That she had been allowed to take this driverless carriage this far instead of being forced to walk was already showing her more deference than she’d hoped for. The rest of the journey would be made on foot as a statement of her submission.

Led by Cassandra, the convoy left the ivy-like fortress at the foot of the nine-peaked mountain and began ascending the Stairs of Morning, a long marble staircase flanked by more of the large golem-like metal creatures, Tempest Knights, and life-like statues of the Thunderbird. Every move was watched, and given the reputation of Leon Raime’s Kingdom, Farah fully believed that even the birds and animals that wandered the mountain had their eyes upon the entourage. The various animals down in the city that frequently and startlingly changed to humans and back again certainly reinforced that fear.

Up the Stairs of Morning they climbed, though they didn’t even go halfway when Cassandra peeled them off on a marble path to the half-moon courtyard sitting just below the palace.

The courtyard itself was carved from the side of the mountain, leaving a dark, glassy substance behind along the curved walls and floor. It looked kind of like obsidian, though instead of black, this substance was dark and cloudy, and though it may have been her imagination, Farah thought that she saw the occasional flash of lightning beneath the substance’s surface, as if it were but a glass barrier that separated them from the depths of a thunderstorm.

The straight outer edge of the courtyard was lined with a double layer of tall marble columns, each one intricately carved with reliefs spiraling up to the cloud-shaped capitals, between which flashed more bolts of golden lightning. At the center of the curving back wall was an elevated platform upon which rested a throne of dark wood that emanated such an aura of lightning magic that Farah, herself a tenth-tier lightning mage, shuddered. Four more thrones were located on shorter platforms, two each to the right and left of the central throne. Carved into the glassy substance above all five of these thrones was an enormous relief of the Thunderbird, wings spread, actual silver-blue lightning flashing about its talons.

Men, women, and more of the tall metal constructs filled the courtyard, numbering close to a thousand. However, even as Farah’s entourage began filing in, almost doubling the number of people in the courtyard, they didn’t come close to filling it.

There were many powerful mages in the courtyard, dressed or radiating auras in ways that demanded attention. There were several women of seraphic beauty close to one of the thrones, and Farah couldn’t help but notice those few drawing no small amount of attention from the men in the courtyard despite being relatively weak—seventh and eighth-tier auras, and only one of the ninth. Another being, looking like a small child with skin like bark, few facial features on its large head, and enormous, pitch-black eyes that sparkled in the light, sat on the shoulder of the largest of the metal constructs that Farah had yet seen, flowers blooming on its head.

One of the more notable figures that her eyes momentarily lingered on was Clear Day, the eleventh-tier Ascended Beast who had negotiated not only the deal bringing Culain into Leon Raime’s Kingdom but also the deal that now saw Farah herself in this courtyard, about to renounce her Queendom.

Several of those in the courtyard were there in beast form, with several small flocks of hawks, ravens, and eagles perched on the capitals of the pillars on the southern side, while seven kinds of beasts prowled around the courtyard—though none so unsettling as the man-sized spiders with their many sharp legs and beady black eyes.

No less than a dozen people were standing around the thrones whose auras were opaque to Farah’s tenth-tier magic senses, though the four most notable were sitting in four of the five thrones, and Farah easily identified them all.

Queen Valeria, her silver hair, simple blue attire, and cold beauty making for a distinct and intimidating impression. She was still more approachable than the bronze-skinned Queen Naiad, however, who didn’t even bother hiding her boredom and disdain. The seraphically beautiful women that Farah had noticed earlier were crowded around Naiad’s throne. Last among the three seated Queens was Elise, the Fire-Haired Queen as she was sometimes known, and the wife of Leon Raime who’d achieved Apotheosis only two days ago. The gorgeous woman wore a smile that threatened to outshine the Origin Spark itself, and when she made eye contact with Farah, her smile somehow seemed to get even warmer, making up entirely for Valeria and Naiad’s relative dismissal.

Out of everyone, there was one person who stole her attention more than any other, one man who, after her submission, would reign supreme over all of the Far West on this side of the Bolt Mountains.

Upon the central throne sat Leon Raime, his aura radiant, his face stony and impassive. He wasn’t exactly Farah’s type, possessing a strong and athletic build and rugged good looks that still caused her breath to catch. Despite his lofty station, the golden-eyed man wore no crown—nor did any of his Queens—and was dressed in fairly simple blue and silver, though it was clear even across the courtyard that the materials were of the finest quality.

His aura was immense, overpowering all around him. Farah even started feeling somewhat nauseous staring into it. So lost in his aura and his bright golden eyes was she that she hardly even noticed Cassandra moving to sit upon her throne, Farah herself being announced alongside her son, and the rest of the ceremonies taking place.

She only came back to herself when the courtyard went silent, and her vague awareness of what had just happened was her only clue as to what she was now to do.

Her hands subtly shook and she could feel sweat starting to form in uncomfortable places. Her legs felt weak and her stomach twisted and defiantly groaned at what she now had to do. But as she stared up at Leon, she found herself strangely comforted. He sat upon his throne with complete impassivity, like a carved statue, both terrifying and reassuring at the same time. Though it was the first she’d seen Leon Raime, she felt that he was being completely honest and straightforward with her. There was no deceit here, only promises.

Slowly, her legs bent and her hands lifted the hem of her dress. She lowered her head before King Leon, interrupting her curtsey only to take the crown from her head and use her element-less magic to gently lower it to the dark, glassy floor at Leon Raime’s feet. As soon as the metal touched the floor, lightning seemed to flash beneath the surface all around it, though the crown itself was completely undamaged.

A moment of complete silence passed as she maintained her curtsey, her face pointed straight down, her white hair shining in the morning light. Her heart skipped a beat as Leon Raime rose from his throne, and in a show of humility of his own, physically picked up her crown and descended the stairs from his throne platform. He stopped before her, standing tall and proud, and returned her crown to her head, sliding it to rest so well in her pulled-back hair that she only needed to minutely adjust it to get it fully settled.

And like that, Queenfall had become a vassal to Leon Raime, and though she’d been a Queen when the Origin Spark had started to brighten, now she was but a Princess.