The Storm King

The three days between Minerva’s visit and Trajan’s funeral passed by in a flash. Leon spent most of that time working on his flight suit, testing its limits and how much control he had over it.

As it turned out, it wasn’t the perfect flight device that Leon wanted, but it was an immensely important step forward.

First of all, it was a severe power hog, running Leon ragged in minutes. Pushing himself, Leon estimated that he could fly using it for perhaps fifteen minutes before he needed rest.

Secondly, it was too bulky to be worn beneath his armor, meaning he couldn’t easily use it in battle. Even if he were to use his soul realm to change in a flash, then he’d be relatively easy pickings for archers and mages capable of ranged magic. With that in mind, he’d have to engage any potential enemies at extreme ranges or refrain from using the suit in battle.

Lastly, it was a lot more difficult to control than Leon gave it credit for. The stabilizing enchantments had been engineered to keep him balanced and upright when gaining height and were a bit underpowered for when he wanted to go horizontal—which he had to do if he wanted to do more than simply gain and lose height. He had to use his leather gauntlets to keep himself from nosediving, and that limited his maneuverability since the gauntlets were supposed to be how he steered himself.

What was more, he needed to learn an entirely new way of moving around, using the boosters on his feet to propel himself while using the rest of his enchantments to keep his balance and posture, and then steering on top of that. It wasn’t something he could get used to in just three days, but it did give him some valuable insights into what needed further work—which mostly meant his stabilizers since his boots and gauntlets seemed to be working just fine if a bit inefficiently.

The only thing he was truly disappointed by was the stabilization issues, he hadn’t yet been confident in taking the suit beyond his property, and as such hadn’t tested its speed capabilities. At the very least, though, he knew that he could move at about thirty or forty miles per hour, which was how fast he managed to get during his tests.

The tests themselves were an exhilarating experience, far beyond the relative let down of flight in his soul realm. Out in the physical world, he could feel the magic around him, the wind rushing through his hair, and gravity jealously pulling him back down. In his soul realm, his power of flight was more like weightless floating. It was fun enough but flying out in the physical world was what truly got his blood joyfully pumping.

But for all that finally liberating his feet from the ground brought him, it couldn’t completely distract from the reality of the current situation. The morning of Trajan’s funeral saw Leon’s villa submerged in a somber and melancholic atmosphere.

A funeral wasn’t a place to be flashy, so Leon dressed in a simple black tunic without any adornment with a matching pair of trousers. He couldn’t care less if the nobles in attendance were offended by his humble attire, he wasn’t trying to show off. Elise dressed similarly, in a plain black dress that covered essentially everything from ankle to collarbone—though, as she always did in Leon’s opinion, she absolutely killed this more relatively plain look.

About an hour or so before Minerva was scheduled to arrive, Leon sat down in his living room, unable to focus his mind on much of anything. Trajan had done good by him, even if it wasn’t perfect. It hurt to see him gone, so much so that Leon hadn’t even tried to go and see the Prince while he laid in state in the throne room during the past week. It was much like losing his father all over again, and Leon hadn’t been quite up to seeing the Prince off like that, just yet.

But there was a time for everything, and this funeral would be his last chance to say goodbye.

“How are you doing, love?” Elise asked from a nearby doorway. She had just finished doing her hair, pulling the sides into braids that connected into a ponytail at the back, but her face was contorted in concern as she stood in the doorway, looking at Leon.

“As well as can be expected, I suppose,” he whispered just loud enough for Elise to hear.

She walked into the room and took a seat next to Leon on the couch, resting her head on his shoulder and pulling his hand into hers. She didn’t say anything, she just wanted to be there for Leon. She wasn’t that close to Trajan, after all, and so his death didn’t hit her as hard as it did Leon. In fact, if it weren’t for Leon or her family’s political connections, she probably wouldn’t even attend the funeral.

But she wasn’t about to express that out loud. She didn’t much care for Trajan one way or the other, but she could see how much it weighed on Leon that the Prince had been killed. Leon wasn’t a person prone to crying—or even being overly emotive, for that matter—but he had been quieter than usual and almost concernedly taken with his training and enchantment work. She could see him disappearing into what he enjoyed to avoid thinking about Trajan.

On top of that, Naiad had vanished without notice or a trace, not even leaving the clothes that had been bought for her. Elise wanted to believe that Naiad wasn’t gone for good, but they had suddenly put her into an emotional corner, demanding some kind of commitment from her. Elise didn’t think what she did was wrong, as she didn’t believe their relationship would last much longer anyway without some kind of commitment on all sides, but she was almost surprisingly mournful about its result. For all the anger and hatred she felt toward Naiad when the river nymph first entered her and Leon’s lives, Elise no longer wanted to see the river nymph gone.

She understood why Leon was only ‘as well as could be expected’ and that there wasn’t a need to try and get him to talk—at least, not yet. For now, she just wanted him to know that she was there for him, just as she knew that he would be there for her. To that end, while she didn’t follow up on Leon’s statement, she remained snuggled up next to him until Minerva arrived outside their gate.

“Time to go…” Leon said, his voice hoarse and reluctant. He turned to look at his lover with an apologetic gaze, disinclined as he was to leave her side right now. He didn’t want to be alone, and neither did he want to be surrounded by thousands of people at the funeral, most of whom he was certain would be faking their grief.

“I’ll follow in a few minutes,” Elise said with a reassuring smile, knowing what was going through his mind. They’d only be apart for a few hours, they were both more than strong enough to survive without the other for that short of a time.

Leon squeezed her hand, gave her a light kiss, and then got up from the sofa. He spared Elise one last reluctant look, then he stepped out of the villa and made his way over to the waiting Minerva.

Minerva was dressed much as Elise was—all in black, very conservative with showing skin, and all-around just not flashy. Her expression matched her subdued attire, with a dour expression and little make-up. This wasn’t a day to show off.

Without a word, Minerva waved Leon into her carriage, behind which were about half a dozen more, which Leon could sense were filled with the rest of Trajan’s inner circle that had accompanied him to the capital. By his estimation, only Constantine was missing, who was too busy at the Bull’s Horns to return to the capital, even for Trajan’s funeral.

The drive to the Royal Palace was long and quiet. It was only Minerva and Leon in the lead carriage, and neither were in any mood to talk. However, outside the carriage, it was loud and almost boisterous, and a quick glance outside told Leon exactly why: they had reached the Royal Palace and were surrounded by hundreds, perhaps even thousands of people.

Leon hadn’t the desire to listen in on what anyone was saying, but there were a few voices that were simply too loud to ignore. One rather obnoxious noble was describing how he’d managed to acquire enough silkgrass to make not only a black suit, but a cloak as well, and there were no less than five people that Leon could see fawning over the material. Another noble was relaying her supposed heroic exploits fighting Samarid pirates, telling her story with exaggerated arm motions and a degree of excitement that Leon felt wholly inappropriate for the occasion.

There was an instinct to shout and yell at these people who were using the funeral of a Prince as an excuse to party and network, but he wasn’t that sort of person. Instead, he spared them a single glare and kept his mouth shut. From her subtly irate expression, Leon felt like Minerva was having similar thoughts.

When Minerva’s caravan of carriages reached the front gates of the Royal Palace, they had to wait in line behind others who had come first before disembarking. Only the most important guests were allowed to take their carriages this far—most others, including many high nobles, had to be dropped off at the entrance to the bridge and proceed on foot—and while Minerva was given this privilege, she knew it was an obligation due to her relationship with Trajan. It would’ve been in poor taste to have a funeral for the Prince while forcing his own retinue to walk to the palace.

When they finally exited in front of the palace, they found the central courtyard in front of the main administration building not as packed with people as the crowds on the road behind them would’ve implied. In fact, there were only about five or six hundred people present, less than half of what the courtyard could’ve held.

Most people here, at least, had the good graces to be solemn and quiet, unlike many of those on the road.

Minerva, Leon, and the rest of the sixth-tier knights from Trajan’s former retinue were ushered inside and taken straight to the throne room. There were much fewer people within than without, but all were of high rank and station; the three high officials, the Chancellor, the Chief Steward, and the Spymaster; the most powerful nobles in the city, such as the Counts of Lindinis and Tarsus, the Duke of Aurelianorum, and a handful of other high nobles; the highest-ranking knights of the Royal Legions, such as the Legates of the local Legions and the Consul of the Center; the members of the Royal Family that were currently permitted to be out in public, like Prince Octavius, Prince August, Prince Antonius, and Princess Stefania.

As Leon’s eyes scanned this smaller crowd, he felt them scanning his group in turn. He paid it no mind and took to analyzing some of the more notable or curious people he saw. For one, he noticed a small group of extremely plainly dressed men and women surrounding a platform in the center of the room upon which sat Trajan’s casket. The casket was an impressive thing, made entirely of ivory, emblazoned with the green and gold sigil of House Taurus, the gold and crimson sigil of the Royal Legions, and covered in carved reliefs depicting the battles that Trajan had participated in, with both of the wars against the Talfar Kingdom taking up both of the largest sides of the casket.

However, it wasn’t the casket that caught Leon’s attention, but rather the people who seemed to be guarding it—he was rather pointedly not looking at the casket too much. There were eight of them surrounding the casket platform, all dressed in plain white robes without any other adornment. They were barefoot, their heads were shaven, and they barely moved from their vigil. One man in particular caught Leon’s eye; he was an immense human being, almost seven feet tall, with dark brown eyes and built like a bull.

If Leon’s arm were to be twisted, he would guess that this was Prince Herculanus, the First Prince and eldest child of King Julius who had renounced his claim to the throne and joined the blood priests of Lineage Hall, who Leon also guessed were the rest of the white-clad people.

The blood priests weren’t doing anything noteworthy, so Leon’s briefly piqued interest quickly waned, and he glanced around the room again. Four of the Paladins were present, notably lacking both the Bronze and Penitent Paladins, whom Leon assumed were still guarding the King. He would’ve assumed that the Bronze Paladin would’ve been here, at least, but both of these elder Paladins were missing.

In another corner was a group of men and women clad in black that radiated a truly eclectic collection of auras, from the second-tier all the way to the sixth. None of their faces were familiar to Leon, but if they were here now, they had to be important.

Noticing his gaze, Minerva quietly whispered to him, “Arbiters.”

Leon nodded in understanding. He had never gone before the judges of the Bull Kingdom, so he had no idea what they looked like. They were all relatively elderly, with greying hair, and long black robes that covered their entire bodies save for their heads. Their robes were quite simple, perhaps in keeping with the occasion, and they busied themselves quietly chatting with each other rather than anyone else in the room. Much like the blood priests, the rest of the people in the throne room seemed to be giving them a wide berth.

Finally, Leon’s eyes fell upon those who were familiar to him, those that Trajan had been interacting with on a regular basis. Prince August, Roland, and the Brimstone Paladin, along with a startlingly small group of nobles and Legion knights surrounding him. Prince Octavius, with his two Paladins, the Consul of the Center, and more than half of the nobles present were on his side of the room. In between them was Princess Stefania, who was clearly distraught, her teary eyes locked on Trajan’s casket despite the handful of very handsome men surrounding her offering words of comfort—her husbands, Leon assumed. Prince Antonius had the smallest entourage, only accompanied by a pair of elderly scholars, and he seemed barely more put together than Stefania. Antonius was clearly choked up, but he was managing—just barely—to keep his eyes dry.

As his eyes drifted around the room, they happened to cross with August’s, and the two stared at each other for a long moment. Leon could see something in August’s gaze, a hunger, or some kind of expectation, and the fact that August knew his identity was suddenly at the forefront of Leon’s mind. Without Trajan there to keep him in check, Leon didn’t know what a desperate Prince looking for allies might do.

Fortunately, nothing had happened so far. At least, nothing that Leon knew about…

Leon stewed in that mindset, but despite this look that August had given him, when Minerva led the group around to give their condolences to the three members of House Taurus who were present—Herculanus having given up his name when he joined the blood priests—August didn’t say anything to Leon.

Leon was left to his paranoia, mercifully left alone once the greetings were over—Minerva led the group away from the largest groups and they simply stood around waiting for the funeral rites to begin.

A few more people came in during this time, but the only one that caught Leon’s interest was when Elise and Emilie arrived about twenty minutes after he did. He and Elise shared a quick nod of greeting and then she and her mother did the rounds greeting the most important people present. Only when that obligation was over did Elise walk over and take Leon’s arm.

“How are you doing?” she whispered into his ear.

Leon glanced over at the casket. It was open, but the platform it rested upon was raised and he couldn’t see inside of it. He hadn’t seen Trajan’s body since it had been discovered, and he wasn’t in a hurry to see it again.

The memory of burying his father was enough, he didn’t want to add to that with Trajan.

“I’m fine,” he whispered back, and she squeezed his arm in response.

About ten minutes later, the funeral ceremony began.