The Storm King

“Where exactly are we going?” Leon asked as the golems escorted him and his party further into the ‘research installation’, as the lead golem had called it.

Behind him, Valeria and Maia were on high alert, their auras indicating that magic was still flowing through their bodies, keeping them ready just in case things took a violent turn. The lead golem was walking alongside Leon and the rest were behind them, so Leon could hardly blame them for their caution.

“Up ahead is a place of rest for travelers,” the golem helpfully responded, showing no sign that Leon could perceive that it intended anything untoward—though this was much harder to do with something made of bronze rather than flesh. “This facility was not designed to accommodate guests, so extensive quarters were not constructed. However, for Young Lord’s small party, we can provide a place to rest until His Highness arranges to meet.”

“Right,” Leon said. “And that man who spoke to us when we arrived, that was Prince Nestor?”

“Yes,” the golem confirmed.

Leon just smiled, a look in his eye that was both curious and dangerous. Speaking to Maia, he said, [This Prince Nestor they’re talking about… I was told in no uncertain terms that he was dead.]

[Who told you that?] Maia responded, her eyes narrowing and her aura growing a touch more turbulent.

[The Thunderbird,] Leon replied. [She’s lied to me before, but… be prepared for anything. There’s no turning back now. This place used to belong to my family, and if someone is squatting here pretending to be Nestor, then I won’t rest until that person is dead at my feet. Even if we must fight our way out and return later when we’re stronger.]

[I understand,] Maia replied, turning her attention back to the golems, who had continued to accompany them without making any threatening moves.

“These other golems,” Leon continued, deciding that if the lead golem was going to answer his questions, he might as well ask some about their immediate situation, “are they designed for combat?”

“They are not,” the lead golem replied, though Leon didn’t take it at face value. Even if they weren’t designed to kill people, they were still roughly twelve feet tall and possessed of great magical power. If he and his party had to fight their way out, it would not be easy, and he’d probably even have to call upon Xaphan.

“What functions are they designed to fulfill, then?” Leon asked.

“Facility management and maintenance,” the lead golem explained. “His Highness designed each and every one of them to keep this facility in perfect condition to await the Clan’s return.”

“Return? Where did everyone go?” Leon asked as he looked around. The hall was quite long, but here and there were a few other doors that defied his attempts to see past with his magic senses. “As a matter of fact, how many people worked here before they left?”

The golem, instead of answering Leon’s question, said, “I’m afraid I cannot say. King Jason restricted all information coming out of this place, and until the proper proof of your rank arrives or His Highness clears you to learn such information, lines of inquiry such as those relating to human staff or the operations conducted here cannot be answered.”

Leon nodded, disappointed and surprised that the golem was so discerning. It even seemed alive, but as far as he knew, such magical constructs gave up any pretenses they had toward immortality for that sentience. In the case of the stone giants, they had managed to evolve into sentient beings, but in doing so they had apparently imposed lifespans upon themselves. The wisps animating their physical bodies were simply not powerful enough to sustain an endless existence and a sentient mind.

‘At least, not without ongoing maintenance,’ Leon thought as a slight frown crossed his face. Nestor’s name had come up multiple times in relation to golems, both down in the archives and the Cradle. If these golems were more advanced versions, then maybe the rules were different.

Or maybe this place was equipped to build golems and this one was constructed relatively recently, it could’ve been either one.

By now, they had reached the end of the hall, and the lead golem waved a hand and opened the door. Beyond was a plush lounge, filled with comfortable furniture that didn’t look even vaguely like what Leon would’ve assumed they should’ve given about eighty-thousand years had passed since the fall of his Clan. The sofas, tables, and chairs all looked pristine, without the slightest hint of decay. Additionally, the room was lined with empty alcoves, each one with stone plinths where statues otherwise would’ve been placed. Leon guessed that since this was the room where the golems had emerged from, then maybe those plinths were where they were stored when not in use.

“Young Lord’s party may rest here,” the lead golem stated. “I shall stay with you until His Highness calls upon you.”

Leon nodded, indicating to Valeria and Maia that they should head into the room. They complied, with the rest of the golems following them inside and confirming Leon’s guess when they stood upon their plinths and freezing in various poses that showed off their bronze forms. The lead golem, on the other hand, simply stood next to the door, silently watching them as they got comfortable.

Leon wanted few things more than to head over and continue his questioning of the lead golem, but one of those things was to speak with Xaphan and the Thunderbird. The Thunderbird operated on her own time, though, and apparently not even Leon plumbing the depths of one of her Clan’s old facilities was enough to get her to pay attention. Xaphan, on the other hand, was always there.

[What do you think about this, demon?] Leon asked.

[I’m thinking a lot about this, human,] Xaphan testily replied. [Nestor was the one who oversaw the project that saw me first summoned to this plane, though we never met face-to-face.]

[Really?] Leon replied, his tone unbelieving. [Why has this never come up when we spoke about him before?]

[It’s not an easy thing to talk about,] Xaphan shot back. [It’s relevant now, so I’m talking about it.]

Leon clenched his jaw in frustration. ‘Getting real sick and fucking tired of people withholding information from me,’ he thought, though he could understand why they were doing so, so he did his best to rein in his irritation.

[Fine. What do you think about what’s going on right now?]

[Sounds almost too good to be true,] Xaphan said. [Looks that way, too. I’m skeptical, but this place has been remarkably well-maintained, especially considering the pit I was left to rot in. I can’t sense anything beyond these walls, though, so maybe the rundown areas are just hidden from view?]

Before Leon could respond, the same ancient, tired voice was heard from all around again, as if the speaker were right in front of Leon, though he couldn’t be seen.

“My kinsman… come and… meet with me…”

“Uuh, sure, just point the way,” Leon cautiously replied, though the voice gave no response. Instead, the lead golem stepped forward again.

“This way, Young Lord. His Highness resides deep below the surface level, it may take a few minutes to reach his chamber, but you have been given access to the facility.”

The golem stood to the side of the door, its posture steeped in a perfect bow that would impress even the most highly trained of palatial stewards. It opened the door for Leon, then stood back in a clear invitation.

Leon almost agreed right away, the encounter with the colossus outside having given him a great deal of confidence in dealing with anything that this place could throw at him, and having Xaphan in his corner only raising that confidence further. But he managed to refrain from immediately walking out just enough to ask a question or two.

“What about my companions?” Leon asked in concern as he glanced at Maia and Valeria.

“They shall have to remain here for the time being,” the golem responded. “Worry not, Young Lord, they shall be safe and well taken care of here. Should they have need of anything, they have only to ask one of the other golems for it and we will do our best to see them accommodated.

Leon nodded and looking back to the other two. Valeria hardly looked like she wanted to be left behind, and Maia looked one step shy of demanding she be brought along, too, but he simply shook his head and said, “Be careful. If anything happens, think first of yourselves.”

Valeria silently nodded, her apprehension written all over her face. Maia, meanwhile, said into his mind, [If you don’t come back, I will level this mountain until I find you.]

Leon smiled at her as he and the golem walked out of the room, dearly hoping it wouldn’t come to that.

As the door closed behind him and the golem, Leon paused to take a deep breath and to let the golem take the lead, then decided to try and pick the conversation back up that he’d started as they walked in.

“Does being given access to the facility mean I can ask questions about this place?” he asked the golem.

The golem didn’t immediately respond, taking a brief moment to pause and think in a way that only led credence to Leon’s theory that it was properly sentient.

“I suppose it does,” the lead golem eventually answered, though there was enough hesitation in its voice that Leon decided not to push this privilege too far.

So, he asked, “How long exactly has it been since you last had visitors?”

The golem, seemingly without further hesitation, answered, “By my estimates, it’s been seventy-eight thousand, nine hundred and twenty years since we last had guests from the Clan. The last of our research team departed three years after that, leaving Prince Nestor to operate this facility alone ever since.”

Leon nodded, filing that information away. He remembered Xaphan telling him that he’d been alone in his prison for longer than that, though not by much, so clearly some of the Thunderbird Clan survived whatever happened to Jason Keraunos, enough at least to visit this place.

“Prince Nestor’s been alone this whole time?” Leon asked. “And he’s never left?”

“Correct,” the golem responded as it directed Leon to take the first right off the entrance hall that they came across.

“Is he… all right? Have there been any notable incidents regarding him in all this time?”

The golem paused again, clearly thinking over its response. In those long few seconds, Leon had taken that right and found that it led into a small octagonal magic lift just large enough to hold maybe ten normal-sized people, which bore him and the golem down deeper into the mountain.

“The Prince’s situation… has not allowed him to leave the primary research chamber since shortly before the death of the Storm King,” the golem eventually replied, though its tone seemed conflicted as if it were reluctant to say these things. “When His Majesty’s call came to assemble the best we had, Prince Nestor was unable to join his father and siblings.”

“What situation is he in, exactly?” Leon was surprised, for if his father were still around and in trouble, he’d not allow any situation to prevent him from coming to Artorias’ aid, yet apparently Nestor’s was bad enough that he wasn’t able to stand with his family during their dying moments. At least, what Leon assumed was their dying moments, the only information he had on that front was from the Thunderbird, and she hadn’t been able to give him any specifics at all about how Jason Keraunos and his family died. All she’d been able to tell him was that Nestor was still alive at that point, but died soon after.

“I… cannot say,” the golem replied. “Young Lord shall see soon enough.”

Leon nodded, his unease deepening as the lift carried them even further into the mountain, not showing any signs of stopping any time soon.

“Sooo,” Leon said as the silence grew awkward, “I apologize for not asking earlier, but you got a name?”

“No,” the golem replied. “Names are reserved for those above me in station.”

Leon frowned. “Is that a rule imposed by ‘Nestor’?”

“It is a rule of the Clan.” The golem didn’t make any signs that it was upset about that fact, but Leon still couldn’t help but feel some revulsion at the fact that it had been denied a name.

‘Even dogs have names,’ he thought to himself.

Deciding that he needed to move on from that topic before it infuriated him, Leon asked, “My original purpose in coming here was to search for someone who may have shown up here recently. Do you know anything about that?”

“We did receive a visitor not too long ago,” the golem replied.

“Can I get some specifics? How long ago exactly, and what did he look like? How strong was he? Was it even a ‘he’ to begin with?”

“Our visitor was a man of roughly one hundred and twenty years of age, possessed of eighth-tier power, six-feet-two-inches of height, and silver hair.”

Leon clenched his jaw, recognizing the description as exactly matching that of Justin Isynos. His killing intent began to rise uncontrollably as he thought about the possibility that Justin was still here, and that he was now away from Valeria. If he were to encounter Justin without her around, he could potentially kill him and tell her anything he wanted. “Did he give you his name? What happened to him?”

“Prince Nestor had him taken alive and held here.”

“I would like to visit him, if possible.”

“Bringing you to the Prince takes priority right now.”

Leon smiled, though there was no mirth or warmth in the expression. “How much longer, then? I would like to take care of my business as soon as possible.”

“We’re almost there.”

Leon nodded and took a deep breath. He figured that this was probably for the best. Dealing with Justin would likely be far more emotionally taxing than dealing with whatever was here. But that certainty was tested as soon as it appeared in Leon’s mind as the magic lift began to slow, the journey having been long enough to take them deep into the mountain. He was about to meet with someone who potentially lived during the heyday of his Clan, someone who potentially was related to him, someone who could share the burden of rebuilding the Clan.

The doors of the lift slid open, revealing a hall that was far less visually appealing than the entrance hall. Gone were the brilliant light murals, replaced with dry, boring slanted walls of gray metal. There were no trees or ceiling enchantments, only magical light fixtures that illuminated this short hallway deep beneath the mountain.

Leon took a purposeful stride out of the lift and began walking for the one relatively small door at the end of the short hall, the golem at his side, but his heart began racing faster with every step he took. Having Justin to fixate on had made it easier to ignore, but the closer he came to the trapezoidal doors, the more real it became that he was on the threshold of something that could change his situation forever.

In his mind, there were only two options: either Nestor was on the other side of these doors, or there was an imposter here that he would have to deal with. Then again, whoever this person was in reality, he’d still invited him down and placed no magical defenses in Leon’s way.

‘Nestor’s’ voice echoed in Leon’s ears again, “Come… in…”

And the doors slid open without a sound, allowing uncomfortably bright light to stream through the open doorway. Leon, even with his seventh-tier eyes, had to squint in discomfort as he took just a few more steps and walked through the door.

As soon as he was passed, though, the door slid shut, sealing him into the room and separating him from the golem.

“What is this?” he shouted, his magic immediately flooding his body with power and energy.

“Something… to ensure… we’re not… disturbed…” the voice rasped. “What we have… to speak of… is not for outside ears…”

Leon scowled, but that expression softened as his eyes adjusted to his surroundings. The room was massive, domed, and largely lacking any adornment—though the latter might have been because the functional design was breathtaking as it was without further decorative embellishments. The immense ceiling hundreds of feet above him was covered in glowing runes that constantly shifted into new patterns, forming new enchantments as the need for them came and went, just like the control room of the prison where Leon found Xaphan.

[This fucking place…] the demon muttered from within Leon’s soul realm, and he couldn’t help but agree, though in a different manner. The floor had been polished so well that it almost looked like Leon was floating in a gigantic black void, with nothing but the runes to light his way, like the stars at night in the countryside. Completing this vision of the night sky was a gigantic jewel in the center of the dome, glowing brilliant white like the full moon, while directly below it on the floor was a sphere of golden light. The sphere was the source of the light that initially made it difficult for Leon to see, but strangely, this sphere didn’t shed any light upon the floor that Leon could see. It was as if the floor just devoured that light and only that light, leaving the reflection of the ceiling undisturbed.

“Come… closer… child…” the voice croaked. It sounded weak and on the cusp of death, all traces of the original jovial elder apparently lost in its exhaustion.

Leon summoned his blade, not trusting this at all, but figuring that since he’d already walked into this lion’s den, he might as well go all the way. Besides, he doubted he’d be able to get the door behind him open, so onward was the only choice he could reasonably make.

He started walking toward the sphere, keeping his blade at the ready and his magic flooding his bloodstream just in case it was needed.

As he cautiously approached the sphere, he began to ask, “Are we going to be talking through thi—"

Before he could finish, an opening in the sphere formed just large enough for Leon to enter.

Not jumping into it immediately, Leon quickly stole a glance inside and tried to flood his magic senses through it. His magic senses were scattered immediately, but he at least got a look inside.

In the center of the sphere, sitting on a huge ornate silver table, was a massive chunk of white, unworked stone about four or five times as large as the golem outside, shining with soft white light. It was a magnificent thing, seeming almost holy as oceans of endless light magic streamed out of it in a blatantly magical way.

It was so radiant that Leon almost missed the other thing in the room: a bed, immaculate despite the age it almost certainly was, made of ivory and trimmed with emeralds and turtle shell. The mattress was thick and the sheets seemed luxurious, but when his golden eyes fell upon it, Leon’s attention was captured entirely by the bed’s occupant, a man with features as aged as his voice implied, his face wrinkled by time and paled by millennia underground. His body was withered and skeletal, even moreso than the Bull King’s had been—he even seemed to be a skeleton for a moment, he had so little flesh on his bones.

But his dark brown eyes glittered with life and intelligence, even as his almost inhumanly pale skin spoke only of a man with a foot already in the grave. His light brown hair—he had a surprising lack of white hair given how ancient the rest of him seemed—was long and unkempt, to the point that even in its current tangled state, the man’s hair would’ve reached down to his knees.

Most notably, however, was the fact that his shaky and weak-feeling aura was completely opaque to Leon, indicating that the man had at least surpassed him in magical might even if his body lay desiccated in the bed.

He smiled as his eyes landed upon Leon peeking in through the hole in the sphere. “Come in,” he said, his voice straining to be heard even though it was deathly quiet in the massive chamber. “It is not safe to keep this sphere open for long, please join me for a moment, my kinsman…”

‘Shit, shit, shit, shit,’ Leon repeated in his head as he stared at the sphere. He doubted that he’d be able to open this thing if he needed to on his own…

… but he hadn’t come this far just to turn back, so he swore in his mind once more before he dashed into the sphere of light, only for it to seal shut behind him with a hiss of magic power.