The Storm King

Chapter 1348 - Halorian Campaign III

“… worth noting that our strategic objectives have largely been attained. Brother, we’ll reach the rally point within days.”

Leon smiled as Anzu’s message finished. Task Force Kyros had fought the least out of the five and was in the best shape of the remaining four. That being said, Aetos, Nikolaos, and Alexander were still in fighting shape, having taken minimal losses—at least, minimal compared to the catastrophe that Torfinn had run into. With them combined, Leon would have a fleet that didn’t just match Antipatra’s but outnumbered hers quite significantly.

He’d just have to last long enough to see them reunited. That meant a month at the earliest—a paltry amount of time under normal circumstances, but with the enemy before him and laying siege to Artorion, every day, every hour, every second counted.

The ambush on Antipatra’s forces had gone splendidly, better than he’d hoped for. While the newer arks that his arkyards had been pumping out for the past ten years were generally better in almost every way compared to the older arks, the most strategically useful upgrade so far had been the jump drives. They allowed his people to do damage and escape with light, and even sometimes with no casualties. The battle against Antipatra around the demiplane had cost him a handful of arks, but most of their crews survived and were collected, and in return, Antipatra had lost almost ten times as many arks as he had.

It had been a bright spot for his fleet, one sorely needed. The Lions in the fleet got to bloody their claws, and everyone else had a chance to work out their own frustrations upon their enemy. While it hadn’t been a decisive victory, it had still been one that raised morale amongst the fleet after news filtered through about what was happening back home.

His strategic situation hadn’t changed all that much in the wake of the victory; he’d need a couple more of that scale before tactics could truly change. He was operating with fewer arks than Antipatra, he’d lost contact with Artorion, and his Task Forces were still dispersed. He’d have to deal with Antipatra here before he could turn his attention back to the Nexus, which meant that he couldn’t simply hunker down and wait for the rest of his deployed fleets. The sooner he defeated Antipatra, the better.

The question of what he might do if he couldn’t defeat Antipatra hovered in the darkest recesses of his mind, but he was determined to allow it no foothold in his thoughts. Every time it tried to creep to the forefront of his mind, he forced it back down.

‘They’ll be fine,’ he repeated silently. ‘My city is strong. My people are stronger. They’ll last without me. They will.’

He considered replaying Anzu’s message, along with those from Alix, Marcus, and Valeria, if only to hear their voices. Valeria’s message had been fairly clinical, but he knew that she wasn’t going to be particularly affectionate outside of their private communications. Still, hearing her voice above all the others had brought him a sense of serenity that he needed. He was even tempted to retreat further along the path that Task Force Torfinn had carved through the Great Strand of Rhea until he could speak with them, and her especially, in real time, but he didn’t act on that impulse. He simply couldn’t afford to.

Besides, he was waiting for someone, a man who would be the key to defeating Antipatra in a timely manner, a man around whom his strategy would continue to revolve—at least, as much as he was comfortable with. Given who he was, Leon was naturally hesitant to trust him too much.

As these thoughts flitted through his head, the round table in front of him illuminated, the glassy surface flashing with runes for a split second before it projected the ID of the one contacting him. The projector was connected to a full comm lotus rather than any comm slates, which held no more than a single petal each. The full plant granted much greater range than the petals did, and his relay stations wouldn’t be able to function as they did, even only being able to pass along messages rather than full conversations, without them.

Leon rose from his seat and limbered up a bit before assuming an imperious air. This matter required a delicate hand, but he couldn’t approach this man like a friend, but rather, like a King. A generous King, but a King, nonetheless. He couldn’t be seated as that would be too distant, emphasizing the difference in his and his caller’s respective stations too much, but neither could he relax while standing up. It was a tiny needle he was trying to thread, and he could only hope that it was enough.

He waved his hand once he was ready, his magic spilling from his fingers into the projector, letting the call come through into this private comms room.

Light flowed from the table’s glassy surface, reaching the equally glassy ceiling above it. Within the shaft of light, Makarios’ figure resolved, the ruler of the Halorian Cluster looking almost excessively formal. He wore bright red clothing, trimmed in gold, with some mythological scene embroidered in gold upon his chest—an ancient hero standing over a slain monster, with the embroidery too abstract for Leon to tell more than that. Furthermore, the man’s hair was slicked back, and his face freshly shaven. About his brow was an extravagant diadem, all gold with a huge red ruby placed between his eyebrows. The ruby glimmered even through the projection, while the many rings on his fingers glinted, each one demanding attention. Finally, he had a rich red cloak around his shoulders, with the hem just as gilded as his clothing, and secured with a golden chain.

In comparison, Leon was dressed in comparatively simple blue trimmed in silver. He wore no jewelry and had only a small Thunderbird embroidered over his heart in silver.

They stared each other down for several long seconds. Leon was tempted to simply offer his greetings to get their talk going, but he held his tongue, wanting Makarios to speak first. And, after those seconds, Makarios deflated slightly and broke the silence.

“King Leon. I’m glad to see you well. The Strong-Armed Ruler has favored you; your strike on Basilissa’s fleet went well as far as I could see, though the Nine-and-Nineteen may always retract their favor…”

‘Stating fact or a veiled threat?’ Leon wondered. For the sake of their exchange, he took the statement at face value, though he didn’t dismiss it entirely.

“My warriors are strong and motivated,” Leon said. “They’re eager to see their enemy destroyed. I’m happy to say that, for the moment, that does not include you.”

“And I’m happy to say that I’m eager to make sure that remains the case.” Makarios gave him a stiff, awkward smile; obviously forced, but that didn’t mean the sentiment was false.

“Then let’s hear it,” Leon said. “How has Antipatra taken her loss?”

Another long moment passed as Makarios visibly considered how to phrase his thoughts. Leon couldn’t help but wonder if he was using the time to cook up a lie at his expense…

“She’s… taken it as well as any leader could. You killed one of her Despots and two of her Strategoi—three, if you include the one killed over Urnos—and that’s thrown her off. She’s not acting in haste, however, and confers with her advisors about how to handle this situation. She’s defused tensions well enough and is not lost to grief or wrath. She fully intends to continue on this path.”

“Hardly surprising,” Leon whispered. “As great a victory as that was, I wasn’t expecting her to turn tail and flee from it alone. But two losses in a row, now… Her forces have to be feeling it, don’t they?”

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“Morale is low,” Makarios admitted. “But the will to fight remains. Not enough blood has been spilled for the Red-Handed Lord of War to abandon them entirely.”

Leon nodded mutely. Morale was a fickle thing; even if a loss wasn’t that heavy on paper, it could demoralize an army so completely that the loss might as well be decisive. A loss that doesn’t break morale, however, might not be decisive, no matter how badly an army was mauled. Leon’s morale was high after two victories, and hers was low, but that could easily be reversed if he found himself on the wrong end of a beating, and then he might be truly—he cut that line of thought off at the root.

“Tell me about how the battle looked from your side,” he ordered, and Makarios obliged readily enough.

“As you directed, we charged as zealously as we could, the Strong-Armed Ruler’s righteousness and the Red-Handed Lord of War’s battle cries on our lips. By the Nine-and-Nineteen, the ruse worked; we were not suspected, and when your ambush was sprung, we were well out of danger. Your bombs wreaked havoc amongst Antipatra’s arks, too, even affecting Antipatra herself, if what I’ve overheard was correct. And one of her Despots—Aristarchos—is particularly interested in studying them.”

“Have you allowed him to?” Leon asked, his concern rising slightly. “You did pick up those that were left, didn’t you?”

“I did, and I’ve managed to buy a little time,” Makarios confessed. “But Aristarchos will not let the matter go. I believe he will personally come to my ark within the day if I don’t give him what he’s looking for.”

Leon stroked his chin a few times in thought. He didn’t want to hand over those bombs to his enemy, but there was still an opportunity there…

“How many did you manage to recover?” Leon asked.

“All of them, by the grace of the Strong-Armed Ruler,” Makarios said proudly, his chest puffing out a bit. “Assuming your count was correct, at least.”

“Have you told them how many you recovered?”

“Not specifically, no.”

A smile flashed across Leon’s face. “Hand over three of them. That should leave you with six. I’m confident that no one save for the greatest enchanters in the universe will be able to learn much from those things before they go off…”

“And if Aristarchos is one of those enchanters?” Makarios asked.

Leon almost dismissed the idea, but he buttoned his lips before his voice could take shape. He didn’t know Aristarchos, nor his capabilities. He was confident in his own enchanting work, of course, but that didn’t mean that it was impossible that Aristarchos could work anything out from examining the bombs…

After several seconds, Leon said, “Stall as long as you can, and when you must act, hand over those three. I might be able to get a scout ark close enough to set them off and deprive Antipatra of another Despot…”

“A risky plan,” Makarios stated. “If it doesn’t work, then Aristarchos will have a new weapon.”

“Letting you have the bombs was always going to be risky,” Leon replied. “Just have the rest ready for when they’re needed.”

“And when might that be?”

“Whenever we’ve properly set the conditions for another battle. Speaking of which…”

With a meaningful look, Leon prompted Makarios to report on the other part of his job.

“I am suspected somewhat,” he admitted, “but my knowledge of the local stellography can’t be ignored, not even by them. I have told them of more dark planes, and their scouts will be moving soon.”

“We’ll have to find the right one, the right place to strike…”

“I already have one in mind,” Makarios said, giving Leon a moment’s pause. As great a piece Makarios was turning out to be—he’d been the one to pick the location of the last battle, and he’d proven himself in that moment by subtly luring the rest of Antipatra’s fleet into position—Leon had his reservations about trusting him too much. Thorough scouting would have to ensure, and Leon would have to put safeguards into place so that he wasn’t placing his entire fleet in the hands of a man who’d fought against his forces mere weeks ago.

“I’ll have the location sent,” Makarios continued. “But there’s something else you should know: Eirenaios, bereft as he is of the Wise Wanderer’s gifts, has made his hatred and distrust of me known to all, and he’s suggested to Antipatra that her best course of action would be not to hunt you here, but to assault your conquests elsewhere in the Great Strand of Rhea. He would prefer to force you to chase them, instead of remaining hidden in the grass, free to strike whenever you choose.”

A frown slowly spread across Leon’s lips. “Perhaps the best strategy he could advise,” he admitted. “How did you respond?”

Makarios paused, an unreadable look passing over his face. When he spoke, he did so with slightly more iron in his voice than before.

“The Strong-Armed Ruler shuns those who forget their responsibilities. The Maiden-of-the-Sun scorns the fickle, and the Mother-Most-Fair ensures their lines end—if their fickleness is egregious enough. I reminded Antipatra of her commitments when I bowed to her. Though I cannot claim full credit, I believe the reminder at least helped return her to the Wise Wanderer’s path and convinced her to remain in the Halorian Cluster. Still…”

“… she may not keep to that strategy for too long…” Leon finished. “We’ll have to give her something to bite on soon. How long would you say we have?”

“I am not blessed with knowledge of the future—that is the domain of the Nine-and-Nineteen. But after sitting in on their meeting and participating as I had to, I believe that Antipatra won’t leave, not yet. She’s committed to this war, and won’t leave the Halorian Cluster unless it is demanded of her.”

Leon sighed. ‘Time wasn’t on my side, anyway. Better to force the battle sooner rather than later. Kill them quickly, and return to the Nexus.’ He resisted the urge to smirk and laugh at his own thoughts. ‘As if it’ll be that easy.’

Anzu would reach the Neether Cluster soon, but that was far from the Halorian Cluster. The rest of the Task Forces would take longer. He couldn’t wait for them unless he wanted Antipatra to roll back his conquests, not without risking her reaching the Neether Cluster before his Task Forces would reunite there. He’d have to fight another battle before then, and unless he set the right conditions, it would be a battle that he could very well lose.

“You said you had a dark plane in mind?” Leon asked.

Makarios answered immediately, as if he’d just been waiting for Leon to ask that question. “Nightfall. I have never seen a plane so devastated. It must have been splendorous in its time, but now, it is little more than a cloud of floating rocks. It’s a reasonably dense asteroid field, which should afford you some possibilities to fight without being surrounded.”

“Too dense, and we lose all maneuver,” Leon noted.

“I’ll send you the location, and you can see it for yourself. But I know if you fight there, the Red-Handed Lord of War will favor you.”

Leon smirked and snorted in amusement. “I’ll accept their help if your gods are willing to give it.”

For a moment, Makarios looked surprised, almost outright shocked, by Leon’s response. He recovered quickly, though, and said, “Right. And in such close quarters, those bombs we have will be put to greater use.”

Leon nodded in agreement. There wasn’t much left for him and Makarios to discuss, and much to prepare, so the call soon ended. Leon took a moment to think in the dark. By his estimation, he’d built one of the largest fleets that any thirteenth-tier mage controlled in the universe. Had he kept it in the Nexus, he would’ve been able to respond much more readily to Triton’s advance, and he likely wouldn’t have run into Antipatra yet.

‘Or they were waiting for me to leave,’ he thought, remembering the increased activity off the west coast that his people had detected for years at this point. It was easy for him to wish he’d taken that more seriously, but he’d been more concerned about the fourteenth-tier mage he was potentially antagonizing than a few more patrols out in the King’s Ocean.

He couldn’t help but wonder what Miuna was doing. While he’d been adamant in his decision not to marry her, he knew that she still held out some hope, and that their alliance was important to her, not just personally but politically as well. He heavily doubted that she’d allow Triton, even if he was stronger than her, to just attack him.

‘Surely she’d have her father intervene?’

As distasteful as it was to wish the Ocean King could step in, for Leon, it was far more distasteful to suffer such tremendous losses. Dipping his head to the Ocean King was far easier than losing any of his friends or family.

‘Not having to do either would be best, though.’

With a sigh, he turned to the door. He needed to kill Antipatra and then get home. Quickly. Makarios could rule the Halorian Cluster as his Stellarch; he had no problem with that once he was gone. Hells, he’d likely rule it better than anyone Leon could appoint would, even if it meant that he would retain a significant amount of autonomy.

He’d have to make the next battle as bloody and decisive as he could. He’d have to kill Antipatra and obliterate her fleet while taking as few losses as possible. Every ark that he could retain would be needed to rescue Artorion and all of his Nexus domains.

Keeping all of his people alive was hardly a novel desire, but it had rarely ever rung as true as it did now.

He steadied himself, then left the comms room. It was time to solidify his plans and then put them into action.