The Storm King

“Storm Herald,” Nestor said. “That was the name of my father’s personal ark.”

The man’s voice, spoken with mechanical resonance from his golem body, was colored in deep sadness and nostalgia, and more than a few traces of anger. His sorrowful recollections helped Leon set aside his immediate disdain for the name of the ark. That his Clan had to name everything ‘Storm whatever’, in his mind, reflected both an unfortunate fixation and a lack of creativity.

“Back in its day,” Nestor continued, drawing Leon’s attention back to their conversation, “it was the most powerful ark in all our fleets. When the Storm Herald arrived, victory would always be assured.”

“It’s surprisingly intact,” Leon replied as he stared at the light projection Nestor had made with ancient runes before them, comparing what Nestor was showing him with what he’d seen just a few hours before.

When Leon had returned home and met with the man to speak about the arks in Heaven’s Eye’s possession, Nestor had immediately set about identifying which ones—or at least which classes of arks that the Director had squirreled away. Light projections of all of the more standard ark configurations used by the Thunderbird Clan in its heyday were there with the projection of the Storm Herald, some even coming close to matching Jason Keraunos’ ark in size. Those in the Director’s possession were in the light to medium range of ark hulls, and according to Nestor’s recollections, none were particularly well-armed compared to the larger hulks that his Clan had built. Light scouts and transports were what the Director had, it seemed, and while certainly armed better than Imperial arks, they weren’t even close to the most powerful arks that his Clan used to have.

Leon continued, “It’s still damaged, of course, but the superstructure is still intact, as are many of its magic systems. It seems it’s just its major systems that need serious attention. Honestly, though, I would’ve expected significantly more damage after the fall of our Clan, or at least for the Storm King’s personal ark to have been taken by whichever power in the aftermath of Jason Keraunos’ death was closest.”

“Yes,” Nestor responded. “Such would be the obvious decision to make by any rational being. But it seems the situation prevented that, and I believe I know why. You see, Leon, the damage you and the ark’s surviving wisp have reported have more in line with intentional sabotage than with battle damage.”

“Someone sabotaged the Storm King’s personal ark?” Leon asked, his tone disbelieving. But after a moment’s thought, he thought he saw what Nestor was getting at. “Or are you saying that it was more asset denial? They couldn’t destroy it or use it, or possibly thought they could come back to reclaim it, but they couldn’t risk it falling into the hands of Aeterna’s natives. As clearly happened…”

“Yes,” Nestor repeated. “Storm Herald didn’t participate in the assault on the Grave Warden, that much is clear. If it had, it would’ve been destroyed, in all likelihood. But our arks had other jobs, such as securing the Void around the plane, and Storm Herald would’ve had to be in a position to coordinate our fleets.”

“Why not use the most powerful ark we had to attack the Grave Warden, then? You had to have known that he was dangerous and that you’d need all the help you could get…”

Nestor sighed. “The thinking—at least, when I was around, keep in mind that I mostly tended to my own projects rather than deal with my father’s objectives—was that we had to secure our position from other potential Anakes or Elemental Kings who might’ve noticed our actions during the Nexus’ last Reconstitution. The rumors of a Universe Fragment that brought us here were not solely heard by us, and any other powerful faction could’ve tried to follow in our wake and take advantage of the fact that we, while powerful, were far away from our bases of power. The Grave Warden wasn’t considered as great a threat as he turned out to be, so our arks were used to secure the vast, empty space around this plane to ensure that we weren’t taken by surprise.”

Leon felt the urge to disparage that decision, but he held his tongue. It was easy enough for him to see the right decision with the benefit of hindsight, knowing that the Grave Warden was stronger than Jason Keraunos and all the other elders of the Clan.

More than that, though, he didn’t yet know the dangers that other Elemental Kings posed. He knew that they were magnitudes more powerful than he was, but political and military situations were always delicate and pulled in dozens of different directions by as many different priorities. An invasion the size of which his Clan launched into Aeterna was immense enough that its failure essentially doomed the entire Clan to a slow death.

He supposed the decision on ark placement made sense for the information and priorities they had at the time. Prudent. Cautious. But both attitudes aimed in the wrong direction.

“And that’s it, isn’t it?” Leon said after pondering these things for several seconds. “Jason Keraunos and the most elite and highly-ranked of our Clan were killed by the Grave Warden. Our armies killed each other as our vassals fought to escape. Enough of our people were roped into the conflict that many of our arks fell in battle or into the hands of Aeterna’s natives, or were otherwise abandoned—while those that could be scuttled, were.”

“That’s as plausible a summation of our time on this plane as any I could come up with, having not seen it with my own eyes,” Nestor remarked.

Leon nodded. “Well, then Storm Herald is a priority, for sure. The sooner we can get it back up in working order, the better.”

“Of course we will!” Nestor emphatically growled. “It’ll be easier said than done, but that ark should be reclaimed at all costs. Depending on the damage, we’ll need a host of rare materials that we’re unlikely to find on this plane. Titanstone, to be sure, along with possibly Lumenite and Aurichalcum. Hopefully not the latter two, as they are magical alloys rather than a refined material, and undoubtedly impossible to acquire on this barren, backwater plane.”

Leon nodded again. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, then. What about these other arks? What can you tell me about them?”

“I was no military man, Leon, so my knowledge of the specific workings of each class of ark won’t be accurate,” Nestor warned. “That being said, I am a genius, so getting them in working order shouldn’t be too hard—and we should get them in working order! The idea that these savages have the audacity to claim my father’s own ark…” Nestor’s voice trailed off a bit, anger seeping into his otherwise fairly calm demeanor. But after a moment, Nestor continued, speaking more calmly. “I can get those arks back in working order fairly quickly. Assuming I have competent staff working under me, and that the arks have only been mothballed and not irreparably sabotaged.”

“Seems like you’re already working on that,” Leon said with a nod toward Nestor’s golem works. The dead man had already mostly disassembled one of the labor golems, using the many arms of his assembly system to keep it upright, all while he was doing something to its internal workings that Leon couldn’t identify.

“Substandard modals,” Nestor said with a huff. “Much in need of an upgrade. Once I’m done with them, they’ll be more than capable of performing the laborious tasks I’ll require of them.”

“What sort of ‘laborious tasks’ will be having them perform?” Leon asked.

“The low sort that leaves one’s hands dirty,” Nestor said. “Labor. That’s what I’ll have them do.”

“And if I have any labor that needs doing?” Leon asked.

“Two will not be enough. You’ll have to either find me more or achieve Apotheosis. Or find a new supply of wisps that I can use to power and animate additional frames.”

Leon smirked a bit, his thoughts turning to the stone giants. Though they were known as stone giants, their true forms were sapient wisps descended from golems Nestor had left in their home crater. They took their massive, rough forms from rocks hewn from the mountains they resided in, and for all Leon knew, they only did so out of necessity rather than a specific desire for bodies of stone. Though, after eighty-thousand years, they may have grown attached to such forms.

‘Then again, Nestor quite literally created them, so whatever form he choose for them to inhabit might be enough for them…’

Given Nestor’s attitude towards them, Leon refrained from bringing them up for the time being.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he simply stated. “Now, I have to head to the Sacred Golden Empire in a couple weeks. How about you set your work aside and accompany me there? I’d rather not have to endure walking through another ark with no one with me who knows enough about them to talk shop with.”

“You’ll surely have other arksmiths with you when you begin your explorations, won’t you?” Nestor asked.

“Maybe. I don’t know what they have. If all they found was the equivalent of a pleasure yacht, then… well, I suppose I’d have some with me just in case were I in the Grand Druid’s shoes. But if what they found is bigger and with more powerful weaponry, then it would stand to reason that they’d have it under tight lock and key, only allowing certain people access to it, just in case.”

“Leon. Idiot. Child. Fool. Some of those ‘certain people’ will surely be, or have been, arksmiths. I’m not a betting man, but I would still put money on them having already done as thorough of an investigation as they could before asking you for any assistance.”

Leon clicked his tongue, though he clamped down on his irritation. “You’re right. And when you’re right, you’re right. Still, even though you claim to not know much about arks, you’re still a self-described ‘genius’. Surely you’d have some insight to share with me if we were to explore an ark big enough for the Grand Druid herself to ask me to come and see it?”

Nestor groaned—Leon found it a surprisingly pleasant sound given the way his metallic form caused it to rumble and resonate.

“Your toys aren’t going anywhere,” Leon reassured him. “Unless your security enhancements are insufficient?”

Nestor glanced at him in what Leon assumed was supposed to be a glare, but his face place, which lacked all but the vaguest suggestion of human features, was static. As much as he tried, Nestor would be making no expressions, positive or negative, until he swapped out his steel skull for something superior.

“Let’s talk about the Empires, then, if I’m to visit,” Nestor said.

“Let’s not say ‘visit’,” Leon immediately interjected. “More like, ‘seeing from within my soul realm’. Of if I’m feeling generous and you haven’t insulted me recently, maybe I’ll have you follow me as a ‘personal secretary golem’. I can force you to pay attention to inane garbage and take notes.”

“Your cruelty knows no bounds,” Nestor spat, his tone sincere though Leon’s had been tinged with teasing provocation. “Any more indignities you have in mind to heap upon my humble person?”

“If you were truly humble, then maybe not,” Leon smirkingly replied. “As it is, I’ll have to think about it. For now, what were you getting at before my cruelty distracted you so?”

Nestor grumbled something under his breath before asking, “This thing you have with the Empires. It can’t last. What’s more, you’re planning on eventually heading south, are you not? Will you be gone for a couple months? Planning on returning to the remains of our Clan every so often? You’ll never win over such proud people by doing such a thing…”

“No, I suppose not. What are you saying?”

“You’ll be gone for years. Even if you bring all of us along with you, are you planning on torching everything before you go? You’ll have to leave some things behind, such as our workshop, or your apple orchard. Or, you’ll have to leave some of us behind to watch over the estate. And without you, everyone left behind would be at Imperial mercy. A terrible thing to be on the receiving end of, from my experience.”

“Have much experience in receiving Imperial ‘mercy’, do you?”

“More like handing it out rather than receiving it, boy.”

Leon shrugged with more nonchalance than he felt. “Well, you bring up a good point. I’ve been thinking that I’d have to do something about the Empires as of late. Their demands have been growing ever more… tiresome. And If what Anastasios has said is any indication, the factions that are demanding they do something to me—and us—grow stronger with every spark of power that I gain. It’s hard to imagine just how they’d react if I were to actually reach tenth-tier, let alone attempt Apotheosis…

“Regardless, Nestor, I’ll need to have the Sky Devils at my back. Or at least, I’d rather have them there when the time comes, because I don’t trust anyone in the Empires, no matter how friendly they’ve been, to be there when shit starts to fly. I have an alliance with the Director, and I don’t even trust him to have my back in such a case.”

“A problem that you need to address, especially since my person is on the line,” Nestor grumbled.

Leon smiled and hummed in acknowledgment. “I suppose what I need is a higher patron, then, don’t I?”

“There are few ‘higher’ patrons than the Empires,” Nestor said in a leading tone that had Leon guessing he already knew where he was going to take this.

“Indeed, but Tusk and the Sky Devils prove that they exist. And who is higher on this plane than the one that watches over it? Who stays on guard to ensure that the Primal beings interred here never wake?”

“A job he seems to be rather terrible at,” Nestor remarked.

“No Primal being has escaped in however-many-millions-of-years it’s been since that primordial war,” Leon pointed out. “I’d say he was doing a fine job until Jormun came around. And… he seems to have taken a liking to me. He told me that he kept the Empires from making a move on me before I came south.”

“As I recall, he also demanded you perform for him a service as recompense.”

“And that’s why I was still debating the point with myself. I don’t just want to swap out the Empires for someone identical. I need cover until I can stand on my own two feet. And I don’t think the Grave Warden will be as demanding as the Lord Protector or Grand Druid have been. He’ll certainly be a damn sight better than Keeper, I’d wager.”

“I would still argue against it. This is the man who almost single-handedly destroyed our Clan! What he wants from you can’t be good!”

Leon lightly cringed, remembering that while Jason Keraunos and his other children were little more than ideas to him, concepts as real as a drawing, little more than murals on a wall somewhere, to Nestor, they were not just real people, they had been his family. While the dead man had never gone into much detail regarding his personal history, Leon couldn’t imagine it had been all that pleasant. Still, the way that he’d spoken of his sister, Penthesilea, had given Leon the impression that Nestor had been fond of her, at least, if not with the rest of his blood relatives. And of Demetrios, the man who’d founded House Raime, Nestor had said just about nothing.

“What would you have me do about him, Nestor?” Leon quietly asked. “Our Clan invaded his plane, and he did nothing. We established an Empire for ourselves here, and he did nothing. It was only when Jason Keraunos attacked his tower that he finally struck back.”

“And that strike destroyed us utterly,” Nestor bitterly pointed out. “Millions of years of history and legacy were laid low that day. Our Clan may not have died then, but it was struck a mortal wound.”

“But it’s not yet dead,” Leon whispered, silencing Nestor, who looked away as if lost in thought. “The Clan isn’t yet dead. We’re not yet dead, no matter how much I call you ‘dead man’. Nestor, it’s been so long, how responsible do you still hold the Grave Warden for his role in our Clan’s downfall? How much blame is to be afforded him, when we were the aggressors?”

“It was his hand that struck the blow. Had he simply given us what we were here for, none of this would’ve ever been necessary. Our Clan would still be in its rightful place in the universe.”

“Or maybe we would be in the exact same place, only laid low by something else. You have to see by now that we were woefully unprepared for the Divine Graveyard? What if we succeeded in taking whatever Universe Fragment that the Grave Warden has, and all the sealed Primal Gods were released? Could we have survived that? Or if we went to the next plane in the planar cluster, seeking that Grave Warden’s Universe Fragment, and that Grave Warden turned out to be significantly less passive.”

“You argue ‘what ifs’ when you want to hide beneath the skirts of the man who killed my father, sister, and brothers!”

Leon sighed. “I’d rather not hide under anyone’s skirts, but what other choice do we have? Remain an indentured servant of the Empires? Suffer their pointed barbs until they decide that I’ve gained power enough and finally act against me? Will the Grave Warden kill me? Is he a safer bet? I can’t know, all I know is that he definitely wants me to do something, and that he claims to have run some interference for me.

“And if—when—I were to join the Sky Devils, all I’ve built here would be effectively forfeit. So what am I to do, Nestor, but try and make peace with the man who broke our Clan, in the hope of securing our Clan’s future? What should I be valuing more, our past or our future?”

“You ask that as if our future is already in the Grave Warden’s hands. You have other options, up to and including doing what many of our vassals did: leave, and destroy everything that could be used against us when you do.”

“Getting away from the Empires would be damned difficult to do. And would involve losing the apple orchard since getting usable seeds for new trees is, in Tikos’ words, ‘problematic’. It would involve losing Heaven’s Eye, losing my home, losing this workshop.”

“Heaven’s Eye has arks. We need only repair them and we can be on our way.”

“And if we, as you pointed out just a moment ago, need Lumenite or Aurichalcum? And the Titanstone we’ll undoubtedly need?”

Leon and Nestor sighed in unison, and Leon leaned back in his chair as a wave of exhaustion hit him.

“Nothing’s been decided yet, Nestor. We still have time to figure things out. Maybe the Empires will back off. I doubt it, but maybe. I’m not thrilled at the idea of what the Grave Warden wants me to do, either. Just… let’s see what the Sacred Golden Empire has in store for us, why don’t we? We can talk about this later.”

Nestor growled but offered no more argument. So, Leon gave the projected arks one last look before taking his leave. At the very least, he needed the rest of his family’s opinion on anything before offering him—and them by extension—to the Grave Warden in the vague hope of finding someone who could get them the autonomy that Leon craved.