The Storm King

With trembling fingers, Metellus wiped his brow. His fingers came away drenched in sweat.

The Sunlit Emperor’s chief military advisor was nervous, to say the least. At the eighth-tier, he was largely immune from regular heat and cold, not to mention the pleasant climate control enchantments within the Imperial Palace, so little else save for his own impending doom could wring out even a few drops of sweat from him.

The reason for his anxiety was obvious to anyone who knew anything at all in the palace. Most of the Commanders between the Azure Plains and Thunderhaven had begun ignoring communications, isolating the capital from their distant protectors. Even some of Metellus’ closest allies whom he’d placed in charge of some of these military units had stopped responding to his demands for updates.

That in and of itself was worrying, but what had truly robbed Metellus of any semblance of comfort was when word was received that the Sky Devils were finally making their push, and the Commanders between the capital and their fleet of arks were not putting up any fight.

Metellus could see his end coming. His mind worked overtime running through all of the ways he was going to blame the Sunlit Emperor for his own actions, but he wasn’t sure the Sky Devils would even listen. Such barbarians weren’t known for their willingness to stop and talk out their problems, after all.

Still, Metellus did his best to cover his tracks and insulate himself from the consequences of these past few years, but in truth, there was only so much he could do. If he could survive the next few days, he was certain he could come out ahead—or at least, with his head intact—but that was a big ‘if’.

His biggest concern was how to break the news to the Sunlit Emperor. He quietly knew that the reports he was receiving of the readying of the Imperial army were lies, but with the reports in hand he’d informed the Sunlit Emperor multiple times over the past month that the army was getting ready for a fight and that the Sky Devils would have to bleed for every inch of land they took—not that they were going to seize any land, he’d boasted, but the point stood.

That lie, while convenient for him as he’d tried to get things moving properly behind the scenes, would no longer stand. The Sunlit Emperor, for all his faults, was still a tenth-tier mage, and he could use his magic senses to sense the advance of the Sky Devils. Even worse, with how relatively flat the inner regions of the Sunlit Empire were, he’d just have to look eastward, and he’d be able to see the damned arks approaching. They were only a few hundred miles out by now.

All those Metellus had tried to send to the Emperor to inform him of current events had categorically refused. He’d sent the first to be executed for treason, as well as the second and third, but when the refusals kept coming, he’d stopped. He had to inform the Emperor, but if no one else was willing, even under pain of death, to deliver the news, then… he’d…

Such was his biggest concern and the ultimate root of his anxiety. The Sky Devils were pushing into the Empire; the army wasn’t even trying to stop them despite his boasting of the army’s willingness to fight; now he had to deliver the news to the Emperor himself, or risk the Emperor learning some other way and having him executed for incompetence or treason or some other reason that the Emperor thought was worth execution.

It didn’t enter Metellus’ mind even once that the Emperor wasn’t going to have someone executed for this, and that person was likely to be the one to bring him the bad news.

So, his mind scrambled for ideas, for some way to save his own skin from his Emperor’s wrath. The possibility existed that the Emperor would lose the war and die in the battle, but Metellus wasn’t going to place much hope on that happening. Tenth-tier mages didn’t just die, the amount of magic required to kill one could likely wipe out the entire city.

He wondered if surrender was still an option… Giving up to the Sky Devils, especially after witnessing their conduct in Argos and on the Sword, sounded almost good compared to the alternative…

But he pushed that thought out of his head. Surrendering to the Sky Devils would likely only end with his death anyway. So, Metellus ordered the city into lockdown, all of the palace’s guards readied for a fight, the outlying defensive positions to prepare to defend themselves, and then stood up to make his way to the Imperial apartments to inform his Emperor of what was happening.

The palace was already scrambling by then, word having come down of the Sky Devil’s advance hours before. Metellus silently cringed at seeing the chaos and knowing that it was at least partially his fault for having delayed giving out orders for so long. But he also knew it was the Emperor’s fault. Had he not been so corrupt and despicable, then the outer army Commanders wouldn’t have gone dark.

Metellus repeated that line of thinking again and again as he made his way as slowly as he could get away with to his Emperor. It was all the Emperor’s fault, everyone could see that. If the Emperor fell, then Metellus would be fine. If not, then he could at least use the chaos of the assault on the city to make his escape.

His dread seemed to double with every step he took. He maintained as calm and stoic an expression as he could, but his clothes soon became so soaked with sweat that he was certain his adjutants and anyone else they passed in the halls knew how broken his mental state really was.

His heart hammered his chest, threatening to escape from his chest if he didn’t escape from the city first, and the beating only grew more intense the closer and closer he came to what he was certain could be his death.

But then, like the sun peeking through the clouds after an intense storm, he entered the antechambers to the Imperial apartments and found that others had beaten him there.

Sentinels, Metellus identified based on their intense auras and ugly, roughspun robes. But he plastered a smile on his face even as his eyes swept them over until they landed upon the man himself: the Keeper, kneeling directly on the stone floor, his arms crossed and eyes closed as if lost in prayer.

Only a moment after Metellus’ eyes landed upon Keeper, Keeper’s eyes opened. Light shone from his pupil-less eyes, but Metellus could still tell when Keeper’s attention fell upon him.

“You have come to deliver the news?” Keeper asked. “Leon Raime is making his final push?”

Metellus summoned every ounce of courage his body possessed and croaked, “Yes.”

Keeper sighed and nodded, and Metellus felt a pulse of magic practically explode from him—the man’s magic senses.

“Very well,” Keeper intoned, his voice remaining calm and serene despite the situation. He pushed himself up from the floor and asked, “Do you mind if I bring word of this to your Emperor myself?”

Metellus could hardly believe his ears. He couldn’t stop his face from breaking out into a smile, though in his relief, his tongue refused to work. He could only nod back to the Keeper.

“Thank you,” Keeper said as he walked toward the Sunlit Emperor’s door.

Metellus didn’t wait around; if the Keeper was willing to be the bearer of bad news, then it only allowed Metellus to live, and he wasn’t going to squander that opportunity. As he walked as quickly as dignity would allow away from the Imperial apartments, his mind was already racing through his options for leaving the city as fast as he could…

---

The Sunlit Emperor was having a fantastic day. It had started off with a wild orgy between himself and several dozen of his favorite concubines… and his day mostly stayed the same as the hours progressed. Little else save for the sounds of pleasure resounded through his favorite courtyard, at least until a busty maid that he couldn’t help but paw at even as he thrust into one of his newer concubines appeared.

And then she told him that the Keeper of the Sentinels had arrived and was awaiting him in one of his sitting rooms.

Sunlit rolled his eyes, took the time to finish with his concubine, and then reluctantly turned away from the orgy that he ordered to continue in his absence. After only wrapping a towel around his waist, he went to meet the Keeper. He didn’t even consider putting anything on to cover his many Leon-induced scars.

If the stoic old man was bothered at all by Sunlit’s lack of attire, he didn’t show it as Sunlit entered the sitting room.

“Ahh, Keeper,” Sunlit said with a wide smile and outstretched arms. “So good to see you again! So good!” Keeper rose in greeting and Sunlit pulled him into a tight hug. Keeper didn’t return the embrace—and didn’t say anything at all—but Sunlit didn’t mind. His day was going just that well.

When Sunlit finally released Keeper, the older man finally spoke.

“The Sky Devils are approaching the city. Your armies haven’t put up any fight at all. They’ll be here in a matter of hours. You will be fighting for your life when they arrive.”

Sunlit finally faltered. He projected his magic senses and saw that the Keeper was right. Thunderhaven was in shambles with people scrambling to find some cover and those with the ability to do so fleeing into the countryside.

But the palace was locking itself down, his few remaining war arks were circling above, and the local army garrisons were preparing themselves for a fight as far as he could tell.

“Good,” he said after a deep breath. “They’ll hurl themselves against the iron wall of Thunderhaven, and my armies can converge upon them from all directions and crush them right there. I’ll finally take Leon Raime’s head and obliterate the Sky Devils right here, and all without the aid of your armies.” Sunlit grinned at the older man and nudged him with an elbow. “Try not to be too bitter when I gain all the glory today, all right?”

Keeper gave him a long, searching look—or so it seemed with his strange eyes and completely stoic face. Just before the silence became awkward, the old man simply said, “I won’t.”

“Ha! You’re a good sport, old man! Rest assured, I won’t forget this in my triumph!”

Keeper continued to stare at him, his thoughts unreadable—not that Sunlit was trying too hard. Instead, he focused on the incoming Sky Devils, many thoughts flying through his head. Despite his cheery demeanor, his heart rate was accelerating. He pushed out all negative thoughts for the time being, though. There’d be time enough for those later. First, though, he’d have to kill Leon Raime and his Sky Devil friends. Once that was finally done, then he could turn his attention back to the boring matters of state, and all those that had much coming to them…

As Sunlit calmly began readying himself for battle, Keeper just watched him. Only once Sunlit had donned his armor did the Keeper finally speak again.

“May your Ancestors honor you as you deserve,” he said. Without another word, he turned toward the door and departed.

Sunlit scoffed and didn’t try to get him to stay. There was no point. He simply prepared himself for the battle ahead, and then the triumphs that would be had afterward.

---

On the outskirts of Thunderhaven Leon’s fleet came to a halt. They spread throughout the sky and assumed strong positions from which they’d be able to bombard the city’s defenses, but on Leon’s orders, they hadn’t yet begun.

Leon himself, unencumbered by anyone else, hovered in front of Silver Spear, silver-blue lightning filling the cloudy sky to herald his appearance. There he waited, his invitation obvious to anyone who could see it.

He didn’t have to wait long. As the Sunlit Emperor’s few remaining arks turned to face his and the Emperor’s mages began getting into larger formations to pool their magic into powerful attacks, the Sunlit Emperor himself appeared in golden armor.

Notably, the Emperor wasn’t wearing a helmet. The extensive burn scars that Leon had left on his face were open for all the world to see, and judging from what Leon could sense, quite a few powerful mages were watching what was happening from all over the Empire and beyond.

Sunlit drew to within a quarter mile of Leon and, despite the wind howling in their ears from the storm that Leon’s arrival brought, they spoke with the ease of tenth-tier mages.

“You’ve grown stronger, Leon!” Sunlit said with something that sounded suspiciously like pride in his voice.

“I have,” Leon responded. He was in full armor, but in the spirit of parley, he removed his helmet to speak better with the Emperor.

“That’s good!” Sunlit continued with a boisterous laugh. “It wouldn’t do for my final test to be nothing more than a weakling ninth-tier mage!”

“A ‘weakling’ who fought you off several times?” Leon smilingly replied.

“Mere setbacks that no one will remember once all is said and done!” Sunlit boasted.

Leon softly chuckled, unsurprised at Sunlit’s demeanor. “There’s still time to back down, you know! You can still surrender!”

“Surrender?” Sunlit asked as if genuinely surprised and confused that Leon would bring it up. “Whyever would I do that?”

“To spare that beautiful city the ravages of war?”

“A war every now and then is good for a people! Ensures they keep perspective! Keeps them from getting too soft!”

Leon’s smile turned grim. “If you say so.”

“That’s more like it, Leon! I am the head of the Thunderbird Clan, it’s only right for you to defer to me!”

Leon blinked a few times, stunned that the Sunlit Emperor would say that to him here and now of all times. Once it clicked in his head that the Sunlit Emperor had, indeed, said what he’d just said, Leon’s anger spiked, and the sky responded by raining a few silver-blue lightning bolts upon Thunderhaven. “You must be joking.”

“I would never joke about something so serious, Leon,” the Sunlit Emperor responded, sounding and looking dead serious. “My line descends from the last true descendants of the Thunderbird! My grandmother was taken as a concubine by my grandfather when their home was raided, bringing Thunderbird blood into our Imperial family!”

Leon stared at the Emperor in complete disbelief, his anger neither rising nor falling, but the meteoric rise of his contempt and bafflement more than made up for it.

“If you were of Thunderbird blood, your bloodline would be awakened!” Leon said. “The Thunderbird herself has told me that I’m the last. It’s impossible for you to awaken your blood! Insisting otherwise is to deny reality!”

“Reality is whatever I make of it!” Sunlit venomously shouted back, his eyes going wide and wild, his smile turning to a snarl. “My great-grandfather denied my grandfather the right to awaken the blood of his line, but I will correct that mistake presently by wringing the secrets from your bloody corpse!”

A helmet appeared over Sunlit’s head and a longsword in his hand. Leon responded in kind, donning his helmet and summoning Iron Pride. Barely had he done so before Sunlit swung his sword and sent a massive bolt of golden lightning his way.

But as Leon’s fingers tightened around the hilt of his blade, his magic coursing through the Adamant that had been made with his blood, the Iron Needle within the tang responded. Leon felt the Universe Fragment’s aura resonate through the thunder wood handle and cause the roc feathers hanging off the talon-shaped pommel to glow.

Leon felt his awareness suddenly expand and his temporal frame of reference slow. He could feel the Sunlit Emperor’s lightning bolt hurtling through the air toward him, but it traveled as if in slow motion, and all around him seemed almost still.

With the Iron Needle’s power, Leon could perceive the lightning in front of him as he’d never been able to before, and though it was packed with the Sunlit Emperor’s magic power, Leon found it almost comically easy to will the lightning to alter its course.

As if bouncing off an invisible barrier, the Sunlit Emperor’s lightning bolt suddenly arced away and crashed down upon one of the Lance towers erected in the Imperial Palace.

Sunlit stared at Leon in abject disbelief, his eyes wide behind his armor’s visor. Leon stared back, his wonder and delight at what he’d just done obscured by his helmet. For a long moment, nothing happened as if the entire world were watching to see what would happen next.

And then the Lance towers in the Imperial Palace started firing. The mages above opened up with powerful blasts targeting Leon’s smaller arks, while the Sunlit arks added their own Lance fire to the mix.

Leon’s arks didn’t waste a second. Barriers of white light kept most of his ark fleet safe while Tribal Lances answered in kind, raining their deadly payloads down upon the Imperial Palace. Another massive barrier of light sprang into place to protect the palace, upon which the Lance fire fell, doing no real damage.

Notably, though, the army bases outside of Thunderhaven did nothing, the soldiers within just watching while each side blasted the other with all they had. Leon’s side had more weapons, but neither side made much progress through the other’s light shields.

As Lance fire was exchanged, Sunlit’s suddenly charged. He had a wild look in his eyes, and as his sword came crashing down upon Leon, he roared, “I’ll TAKE ALL THAT YOU HAVE!”

With practiced ease, Leon brought Iron Pride up, the Adamant meeting the Sunlit Emperor’s blade and exploding with lightning. The Sunlit Emperor was blasted backward while Leon stayed hovering in the air, steady as a rock.

But Leon didn’t remain there. He bolted after Sunlit, his killing intent spiking almost as quickly as his aura. This was it, the final battle of the war.

It was time to kill the Sunlit Emperor.