The Storm King

Chapter 627: The Sultan’s Court

“I’d like to request and audience with your Sultan, if possible,” Leon said, smiling at the three seventh-tier Samar warriors that had him surrounded, a thousand Samar guardsmen at their backs.

The other two seventh-tier warriors didn’t add their thoughts, but Leon felt quite a bit of killing intent from both. The water mage didn’t seem particularly offended, but the other two were clearly only one wrong move on his part away from attacking. He got the impression that if it weren’t for his obvious power then they already would have.

“I’m something that’s looking to speak with your Sultan,” Leon replied, grinning at the water mage.

She smirked back, her eyes narrowing as her lips turned upward.

Leon turned his gaze back toward the fire mage and let his killing intent spill from his body like a tidal wave. The seventh-tier mages didn’t react much, showcasing just how strong and experienced they were, but most of the other thousand guardsmen in the courtyard began to visibly lose their nerve.

“You may call me Aetos,” Leon replied, his mind turning immediately to the name his Clan had used for their base unit for measuring magic power when he tried to think of something fake. “Someone I care about was taken captive by agents of your Kingdom, and I wish for her to be released. I thought that my coming here to speak about the issue would be far better than taking the easier option of attacking like a mindless animal. Was I mistaken, or are you humans even more enslaved by your emotions than me?”

He guessed from their reactions that his entrance might’ve strongly implied him to be an Ascended Beast instead than human, and he had no problem at all leaning into their assumption. If any animal achieved his level of power, they’d almost invariably gain the power to transform into humans, so it wasn’t even that unlikely of a story. It might also help to deflect blame for his actions away from the Bull Kingdom.

The fire mage didn’t seem convinced, though. But before he could shout back, the doors to a balcony overlooking the courtyard from the main palace building opened, and a sixth-tier mage walked out. He was an old man, with a long white beard, a large yellow turban wrapped around his head with a pair of decorative cloth wings extending out from the front as far as his shoulders.

“Commander Mansur!” the man shouted from the balcony, his voice echoing with authority and wisdom despite his relatively weak aura. Notably—Leon assumed for his benefit—the man spoke to his people in the common tongue. “The Sultan has granted an audience with our guest!”

The fire mage relaxed, as did the other two seventh-tier mages and the rest of the guardsmen, though none of them lowered their weapons completely, nor did they take their eyes off of Leon.

Despite this, Leon strode forward with what he hoped looked like the utmost confidence that betrayed none of his inner anxiety.

The two female mages flanked him as he walked, while Commander Mansur, the male fire mage, fell in behind him, though not without a glare of disapproval as Leon passed him. The guardsmen parted, creating an obvious path toward the palace’s front doors, and Leon was escorted inside.

He met the elder sixth-tier mage just inside the doors, who’d hurried down to the entrance hall to welcome him in.

“Lord Aetos,” the man greeted with a respectful tone and a welcoming smile, though his eyes were hard and suspicious.

Leon smiled at him and said, “Please, just ‘Aetos’. You seem to have me at a disadvantage…?”

“Forgive my rudeness from before,” the man replied, “my focus was on preventing any violence from breaking out. You must understand that your unannounced arrival has many feeling ill at-ease.”

“And for that, I apologize,” Leon responded. “Were I not in a bit of a hurry, I wouldn’t have made so dramatic an entrance. May I have the honor of knowing your name?”

“I am honored to be known as Ashar,” he said. “I am the Sultan’s Vizier, and welcoming visiting dignitaries is one of my duties.”

“Well met, Ashar,” Leon said. Much like Ashar, Leon kept his tone respectful, but not subordinate. He didn’t answer to anyone in the Samar Kingdom, and he had no intention of making it seem like he was their junior in any way. That being said, he didn’t want to make any unnecessary enemies, either.

He was curious about the title of ‘Vizier’, though. From what he could gather of how he ordered around seventh-tier mages, and how everyone’s eyes seemed to track him in the entrance hall, he supposed it was somewhat analogous to the Bull Kingdom’s Chancellor—the chief of the King’s court advisors and his metaphorical right hand. However, the Bull Kingdom’s Chancellor didn’t have much to do with foreign affairs, so he supposed it wasn’t a perfect comparison…

He could sense the guardsmen back in the courtyard being dismissed, but he knew that they’d be on standby as long as he was here, just in case. The three seventh-tier mages, on the other hand, shadowed him and Ashar as they exchanged meaningless pleasantries for about a quarter hour—Leon assumed so that suitable meeting chambers could be prepared. Then, only about twenty minutes after Leon touched down in the courtyard, the palace’s seneschal approached the Vizier, whispered into his ear, and Ashar said, “The Sultan will greet you, now.”

From there, to Leon’s subdued surprise, Leon was shown into the Samar Kingdom’s throne room. He’d assumed they’d take him somewhere more private, but he mentally shrugged and rolled with the surprise. It wasn’t like this was to be his first time in a throne room, after all.

The throne room was as magnificent a room as it ought to have been—quite large, more than enough to comfortably hold a court of at least a thousand. The right and left walls were open to the air, though, broken only by many columns supporting great archways, with beautiful gardens lying just beyond the throne room’s marble floors, giving it a delightfully open feel and plenty of natural air flowing in and out. The ceiling was high and domed, with the black glass causing the bright yellow-orange light of the sun to dye the entire interior surface of the dome a deep blood red. The marble floors, meanwhile, almost glowed with the brilliant blue of a perfectly-clear lake.

The throne itself wasn’t too impressive, being barely more than a wooden stool draped with golden silk and raised on a dais only a couple of steps above the floor. More impressive, however, was the mural decorating the wall behind it—much like the rest of the art Leon had seen in the Samar Kingdom, it didn’t depict any human figures, but instead was a gorgeous display of fractal geometric designs rendered in gold on the glass background, dyed a vivid purple by the blue of the floor and red of the ceiling.

Leon only spent a few seconds admiring the architecture as he was escorted inside—the court had been assembled, with hundreds of dark-skinned Samarids watching him enter and whispering amongst themselves. Nearly all were wearing loose flowing robes, though unlike the pristine whites and yellows that he’d seen Asiya’s family wear around, nearly everyone wore some bright flashy color. Many even wore garments that had been gilded in gold and silver.

Interestingly, Leon noticed that despite his somewhat threatening arrival, the only people who were armored in the room were a handful of guards scattered around the room’s edge, and the three seventh-tier warriors following him, and he didn’t see anything that he would’ve called a uniform. It seemed to him that the Samar Kingdom’s military had much less of a presence within their Kingdom than it did in the Bull Kingdom.

Finally, though, his eyes turned to the man himself, the Sultan of the Samar Kingdom: Faizan ibn Ali Al Samar. He was a tall man, excessively well-built and dressed in tighter robes that, compared to the looser garments worn by his court, almost seemed to emphasize his toned physique. His face was severe, long and thin with cheeks so well-defined that they were only a step or two away from being gaunt and hollow, though that didn’t stop him from having a certain handsomeness to him. His face was adorned with a long black beard, oiled into a long, dignified, arrowhead shape and perfectly trimmed, while the top of his head sported a majestic turban of the purest white silk, around which had been fastened a strip of black cloth decorated with a panoply of gemstones.

The Sultan sat up straight, his posture perfect as Leon approached, his face stony and inexpressive, his robust seventh-tier aura not flickering in the slightest, which further gave him an air of stoic distance. His black eyes tracked Leon across the room, never wavering once.

Ashar escorted Leon to the middle of a blue rug just in front of the throne’s dais, and then respectfully bowed to the Sultan. Leon did not bow, but he let his smile fall from his lips so that he didn’t give the impression of frivolity before a King.

If the Sultan was insulted, he didn’t give the slightest sign. Instead, he almost imperceptibly tilted his head to the right, and Ashar hurried forward to lean down on the Sultan’s right side. So quietly that no one, not even Leon, in the court could hear, the Sultan whispered into his Vizier’s ear. Once he was finished, the Vizier and the Sultan straightened themselves, and Ashar, in a commanding and authoritative tone, inquired of Leon, “Aetos, the Sultan has granted you your requested audience. What matter brings you to his court this day?”

So, Leon steeled himself and said with both confidence and just a little bit of the anger and frustration he felt at this whole situation, “I’m here for a woman named Asiya. She spent most of her life in the Bull Kingdom as ‘Asiya Samarid’.”

As soon as he said her name, all of the quiet ambient chatter in the throne room ceased for a moment, and then came back with greater intensity. The Sultan was clearly far too composed and dignified to let such a thing faze him, though, and aside from the slightest sign of tightening in the corners of his eyes, he didn’t even twitch.

The Vizier leaned back in, letting his Sultan whisper into his ear once more. A moment later, he straightened back up and, with more iron in his voice, said, “The lady of whom you speak was arrested on charges of treason and sedition, among other crimes. We cannot let her go. This is an internal matter—we can’t let those who conspire against us walk free.”

Taking a moment before responding, Leon sent Maia a quick update, telling her to be ready for violence, because while he still hoped he might reach some kind of compromise, it was looking more and more likely that violence was going to be the name of the game this day.

The middle of the Sultan’s court might not have been the best place to bring this up, but Leon wasn’t too interested in playing the long game. That would give them too much time to outplay him. He’d rather they just come to a decision now.

“We would have to think over any proposal you have,” Ashar relayed from his liege. “Such charges levied against her are serious.”

“Might I at least see her, then?” Leon asked. “I would know that she is all right and unharmed.”

The Sultan didn’t immediately answer. Instead, he stared at Leon, his expression grave and stony. Leon stared back, his smile still on his face, but his eyes starting to narrow in anticipation of violence.

[Xaphan,] he whispered into his soul realm.

[Hmm?] the demon replied, not having been paying much attention.

[Yes,] Xaphan readily replied, and Leon could feel the demon’s power flaring just a bit.

[Good,] he responded. [Stand by.]

After what felt like half an eternity, and long after the courtiers had once more stopped talking, the Sultan turned his head slightly, not letting Leon out of his sight but tacitly signaling the Vizier to lean back in for instructions.

The Sultan didn’t whisper into Ashar’s ear for long, but it was long enough for Leon to be mildly concerned. However, the Vizier soon stood up and addressed Leon once more.

“In his great magnanimity, our noble Sultan has decided to allow your request to see the Lady Asiya before the end of the day, to ascertain that we are treating her well. Furthermore, we will deliberate about what to do with her later today, and have an answer for you a few hours hence. For now, an invitation is extended to you to stay here, within the Royal Palace, for the day, and to join a feast that will be held tonight.”

“I would be honored to accept your hospitality,” Leon replied, but even then, the tension between him and the Sultan never abated. They had at least accepted his request, but they weren’t letting Asiya go just for him. They either wanted something more, or they were planning against him.

He hoped it was the former, but he readied himself for disappointment.

—

Leon was shown into an opulent guest room within the palace, and then left there, with the Vizier himself informing Leon that he was going to organize a visit from Asiya later, but that it might take some time. Leon acquiesced, and though he maintained an air of unflappability, as soon as he was left alone, he began hurriedly scoping the place out.

As he did so, he sent Maia another update, and asked her to keep an eye on the palace and look out for Ashar—the guest rooms were all insulated with wards against magic senses, preventing Leon from doing this himself.

Then, he began looking around in earnest. It was entirely possible that his ‘hosts’ were now debating how to deal with him instead of how to comply with their agreement, and in what he felt was the likely eventuality of their betrayal, he needed to have a backup plan.

The guest suite had plenty of windows that were openable from his side, which surprised him when he discovered it. They were more than large enough that he wouldn’t even need to squeeze to get out of them. As an experiment, he opened a window—one that faced the front courtyard—and stuck his head outside, then projected his magic senses. To his delight, with is head stuck just outside of the wards, they weren’t scattered. He couldn’t see within the palace, of course, but at least now he wasn’t completely blind.

He left the window open, and then continued to inspect the room. There were all the splendid furnishings that he could expect a Kingdom to provide for a visiting dignitary, but he ignored them all. Instead, he looked for peepholes, rapped on the walls looking for any that sounded strangely hollow, and took some time to kneel at the doors and listen for any sound leaking in from outside.

His search was fruitless, so he was at least able to conclude that if the Samarids were spying on him, then they weren’t being stupid about it. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t nearly as alone as they might want him to feel.

After about two hours, Maia informed him that she saw the Vizier walking to one of the more distant buildings in the palace complex, and a few minutes later, exit with Asiya in tow. She was in chains and surrounded by guards, but to Maia’s eyes, she seemed otherwise unharmed.

Asiya had a look of disdain and rebellion on her face as the door opened, but when her eyes landed upon Leon, she froze in place, her face going blank with shock. She looked like she was about to speak, but Leon cut her off.

“Asiya!” he boomed, both to sell his lie that she was romantically attached to him, and to keep her from saying anything that might contradict him. “I was so worried about you!”

He rushed forward and took her into his arms, the Vizier and the other guards around them watching in silence. One of those guards, Leon noted, was the seventh-tier water mage who’d seemed pretty reasonable during the initial confrontation. None of the other seventh-tier mages were around, but he doubted they were too far away.

With Asiya in his arms, he whispered softly, but loudly enough for everyone else to hear if they were listening, “Your Aetos has come for you. Worry no longer, I’ll take you home.”

Ashar then stepped forward. “We’re still debating your request, Aetos, and any release would come with some conditions.”

Leon waved dismissively and summoned a powerful gust of wind that knocked Ashar right out of the door. The Vizier landed on his feet without a shred of lost dignity, while the guards behind him all drew their weapons and took a step toward the guest rooms. Ashar halted them with a single raised hand, though, as Leon hadn’t made any further hostile movements.

“Close the door, please,” Leon said with a grin as he pulled Asiya further into the guest chambers. “We can talk more later. For now, I would talk with Asiya alone.”

Ashar stared at Leon, his expression unreadable. But then, he nodded to the guards just outside the doors, and they leaned in and closed them, leaving Leon and Asiya in peace. Only then did Leon gently release Asiya from his grip.

“I came here with some back-up to get you out of here,” he whispered, while internally doubling down on his desire to learn Xaphan’s mental communication technique.

Asiya took a deep breath as she stared at the doors, and asked with carefully controlled body language and tone, “Who else?”

“Naiad’s in the city,” Leon whispered, leaning in closer to the Samarid woman so that he could whisper even quieter. “Val and the rest of my retinue ought to be closing in on our rendezvous point a few miles out from the city along the coast with a ship. No matter what happens, we’ll get you out of here and back to the Princess.”

Asiya partially relaxed, but then she turned to face Leon and asked him one of the hardest questions he’d ever had to field before.

“What about… my parents?”