The Storm King

Chapter 642: Cortuban Arena

Leon and the rest of the caravan were to stay in Andalus for about a week or two while they restocked and prepared for the rest of their journey. They were about a third of the way to the Ilumerian Wetlands, but they were now traveling through regions that had much denser populations, and would be for a while, so Leon wasn’t anticipating any more repeats of the bandit incident. The rest of this leg of their journey ought to be much less exciting.

Andalus’ Tower Lord was determined to be a good host for the duration of their stay, having come out to personally welcome Emilie and everyone else into the Heaven’s Eye enclave and to see that they were all properly taken care of. He was a jolly man, tall and thin, with a perpetual smile on his black-bearded face. He was rather pale, about what Leon would’ve expected from someone from Talfar or the Bull Kingdom, whereas the Cortubans were generally tanner.

Leon was grateful for his hospitality, especially since it meant that he was under no pressure to leave the guest house during their stay. He found himself extremely uncomfortable with how blatant the Alliance’s rampant practice of slavery was, and knowing that there wasn’t anything he could do about it filled him with a sense of powerlessness that he couldn’t possibly do anything about.

He’d rather not think too hard about it, and so he spent much of his time secluded in the guest quarters, spending time with Anzu, his family, and his retinue, quietly studying the books on smithing he’d bought back in Akhmim, studying enchantments, or training. His attention was being split in so many different ways that even if he were of a mind to do so, he wouldn’t be able to find the time to leave and relax.

Fortunately, he was perfectly able to relax while practicing his runework or training with the Thunderbird, having great fun doing so.

He wasn’t able to spend all of his time in such a manner, though, for several days into the stay, Andalus’ Tower Lord invited all of his guests—or, at least, all of his guest of sufficient status—to join him as his guests of honor at a showing in the local grand arena featuring some of the best local gladiators that Andalus had to offer.

There was no way Leon could refuse, both because he was curious about local fighting styles, and because if he were to join Heaven’s Eye, he needed to not be too aloof with people in high positions of authority, such as Tower Lords.

It wasn’t until the day of the fights that Leon found out just how big of an event this was to be, for not only was he and his family going to attend, Emilie and several other highly-ranked members of Heaven’s Eye were, too, such as Talal and Damian Makedon. In fact, the event wasn’t even being organized by the Tower Lord, but by a couple members of the Cortuban Royal Families, which also meant that in attendance would be high-ranking members of their Conclave, the duties of which Leon was still fuzzy on, as well as Cristina and her entire guard unit.

At first, Leon thought this was going to be just a showing of gladiator fights, but as he learned more about the guest list from Elise, he realized that this was going to be a huge diplomatic affair, with members of ruling families from two states and the plane’s biggest and most powerful merchant’s guild all rubbing shoulders.

When they arrived at the arena, the event was about what Leon expected. The Royal box was gorgeously appointed, with gilded furnishings everywhere, a well-stocked bar complete with three beautiful attendants acting as bartenders, and one entire wall opening onto a massive balcony that overlooked the sands below. At least fifty high-backed seats covered in rich red velvet had been set up on the balcony so that all the most important people attending this party would be able to watch the games below, but two of the seats more resembled thrones than ‘merely’ rich seats—the place for the two attending Kings to sit, Leon presumed.

“Damn, I like this place,” Alix muttered as Leon’s retinue followed him inside, her eyes fixed on the intricate crystal chandelier hanging from the high roof, sparkling in a thousand different places with ten thousand different colors.

“It’s a bit much,” Leon murmured back.

“You need to get a taste for the finer things,” Marcus said as he draped an arm over Leon’s shoulder and practically dragged him further inside. “Lady Elise!”

Elise, only a few steps away, looked at the two of them, a look of amused curiosity gracing her face.

“How has this man not woken up to the comforts of luxury, yet?” Marcus asked, poking fun at Leon.

“Alas,” Elise replied, only too happy to join in the playful teasing at Leon’s expense, “my husband has always had such tastes! It vexes me to no end! If he had his way, he’d live in a shack without so much as a carpet to cover the bare floorboards!”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Leon protested, his cheeks twitching from the effort he made to not to smile as he leaned into their teasing. “Shacks can be perfectly functional dwellings. Helps to keep clutter down when you don’t have anywhere to put excess stuff, easy to keep clean, nice and cozy.”

“No thank you,” Elise replied, her radiant red hair cascading marvelously over her shoulders as she shook her head.

“Yeah, give me marble and silk over that any day,” Marcus added. “Leon, I think we need to talk a while. I mean, this is a dreadful emergency! Every man needs to know how to appoint their living spaces to impress! And to have standards for where they lay their head!”

Leon shrugged. “Any hole in the ground would do for me, why have all that extra stuff? As a matter of fact, I think I’d take a hole in the ground over all this excess…”

Before Marcus could reply, a voice boomed across the room, “Ah! A man after my own heart!”

Everyone looked to the source of the voice and saw a man walking into the room flanked by at least a dozen followers, with even more taking up stations just outside. The man himself was powerful—seventh-tier, Leon noted with interest—and regally dressed. But even several layers of gilded silk and blood-red velvet couldn’t hide his bulging muscles, his imposing stature, or his piercing green eyes. His hair had been shorn almost to the scalp, though his hairline hardly seemed to be receding, and at his side hung an ostentatious, though undoubtedly only ceremonial, sword that appeared to be made primarily of gold, and encrusted with as many gems and crystals as were in the chandelier.

The man wore a deep, joyous smile, and he spread his arms in a welcoming gesture as he strode confidently into the room, ignoring for the moment Damien, Emilie, and all the other Heaven’s Eye representatives who’d given him their attention upon his entrance. Instead, he stepped in Leon’s direction and added, “But such trappings are expected of those of us in high positions, and besides, such places are beautiful in their own way, are they not?”

Leon didn’t need a formal introduction to know who this man was, who was so powerful and acted like he owned the room—this was one of the two Kings that would be in attendance. So, still smiling, he nodded and said with as much poise and decorum as he could, “I can’t deny that. Certainly more comfortable than a hole in the ground, even if the hole is ‘good enough’.”

The man let out a thunderous laugh, stepped forward to clap Leon on the shoulder—Marcus withdrawing a few steps as the man stepped in—and asked, “And might I have the honor of knowing your name?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s that great an honor to know it,” Leon modestly replied, “but my name is Leon Raime.” Without a word, he extended his arm to Elise, who exuberantly took it and smiled with almost inhuman brightness and beauty—at least, in Leon’s opinion—at this pentarch. “And this is my wife, Elise,” Leon finished.

Elise bowed her head slightly and gave the King a polite greeting. Notably, no one in the room had bowed, and Leon had expected at least a few dirty looks for his rather casual greeting, but it seemed Cortuban ways just didn’t have that ceremony, for no one batted an eye.

“Wonderful to meet you two!” the King practically roared. He continued, while batting aside one of his followers who seemed just about to introduce him on his behalf, “I am Alfonso, son of Sancho, seventh of my name, Head of House Barcino, King of Faventia, and Second Lord of the Cortuban Conclave!”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Leon replied, unsure how to refer to him, or if Cortuban Royalty even adopted styles at all, and fortunately, Elise was right there to rescue him.

“We’re truly honored, Your Majesty,” she said.

Leon filed that away—it seemed that some styles were shared in places. He made a mental note to check with Elise about these kinds of things later, for he realized now, in the worst possible time, that he was ill-prepared to deal with people who might take offense at his lack of preparation.

Fortunately, it seemed that Alfonso wasn’t one of those kinds of people, for after introductions were made, he didn’t miss a beat, launching directly into describing his happiness at their presence, how grateful he was that they were attending the games, and all sorts of other platitudes that, were they coming from anyone else, might’ve seemed token and empty, but which Alfonso’s boundless enthusiasm made seem completely genuine.

“… and please, come and sit with me when the games begin!” Alfonso said, having hardly given either Leon or Elise a moment to cut in during his entire spiel. “I’d love to hear your opinion of our gladiators! A man like you, at least, must’ve seen his fair share of blood!”

Leon smiled and nodded, unsure quite how to respond to that. He’d seen quite a bit of blood in his time, for sure, but he was still exceptionally young by mage standards, and he wasn’t sure what he could say that this King might want to hear. However, he still nodded and accepted the King’s offer, only after which Alfonso finally begged his leave and went to properly greet Princess Cristina and the rest of the Heaven’s Eye delegation, leaving Leon and Elise largely alone.

“Ran right over us, didn’t he?” Leon quietly replied, punctuating his statement with a chuckle.

“Was he really staring that much?” Leon wondered as he and Elise wandered out onto the deserted balcony so that they could speak with a little more privacy.

Elise just gave him a look that suggested she was entertained at his asking a foolish question.

When they pulled back, Elise said, “As soon as he walked into the box, his eyes found you and almost never left.”

“He’s a seventh-tier mage,” Leon theorized out loud. “I’d guess that he evaluated everyone as soon as he walked in the door, and then made a beeline for one of the strongest person he could sense.”

Elise smiled and nodded. “Seems a reasonable thing for a King to do. I’m surprised he didn’t approach our favorite river nymph first, though…”

Leon took a quick glance over his shoulder and fixed his eyes upon Maia. His river nymph lover had sat down in a plush seat in a corner and had pulled a book from her soul realm, into which she buried her face.

“She’s radiating ‘get the fuck away from me’ energy,” Leon observed. “I think the fact that we were mingling a bit made it easier for him to approach. Signaled that we might’ve been invited here for a reason other than power.”

Leon just shrugged and half-smiled. “Good to greet to the most powerful mages in the room—at least, those who seem open to being greeted, and then moving on to the rest, I say.”

“A good philosophy to have going forward,” Elise agreed. “Have you greeted anyone here who hasn’t approached you first?”

Elise sighed, but her face was split by a wide smile. “It’s good to know your value, I suppose,” she conceded, “but it would still do to have a little more courtesy for our hosts.”

Leon pointedly looked back into the main box where Alfonso was warmly embracing Emilie and laughing at something that the Tower Lord had said just a moment before, while Damien Makedon watched on in stoic silence, his demeanor only marginally more inviting than Maia’s. Alfonso was about as far from regal as Leon could imagine, acting more like he was among his close friends rather than with his social inferiors who owed him respect.

“I don’t get the feeling that he cares much for courtesy,” Leon observed.

“Not everyone’s going to be like King Alfonso,” Elise, to which Leon could only shrug in defeat.

As if to prove her point, only a moment later, the doors opened again, and a woman walked in, flanked on both sides by a dozen more followers. The woman herself was also of the seventh-tier, while her followers spanned the magical spectrum from fourth to sixth.

She was tall and rather thin, and almost inhumanly pale, especially considering the fairly tanned skin tones of native Cortubans. Her long blond hair had been pulled into a crown braid, showing off her sharp, severe beauty, and her brown eyes were harsh and devoid of warmth. She paused only a moment in the doorway, her gaze coolly surveying the scene before her.

Alfonso was making merry with the Heaven’s Eye crowd, while Cristina was only a few steps away, surrounded by her knightesses. The Princess was doting on Asiya a bit, who Leon thought looked quite hale and hearty, being a fair few weeks out from her father’s death and among friends, but the Princess was still locked in what seemed like intense conversation with her knight.

Meanwhile, Maia was still lost in her book, while Leon and Elise were off by themselves on the balcony, with an almost empty arena behind them.

Almost without missing a beat, the woman briefly nodded in greeting to Leon, and then walked over to Alfonso, Damien, Emilie, and the Tower Lord.

Isabella spoke a few words to Alfonso, not quite audible to Leon and Elise over the general din of the rest of the guests, but Alfonso’s exuberant response was more than clear.

“Ah! To the Underworld with that formality! We’re closer than that, are we not?!”

Isabella didn’t even blink and shook her head in the negative.

Alfonso didn’t seem to care, though, and wrapped his massive arm around Isabella’s comparatively tiny frame and pulled her into his conversation with Emilie and the Tower Lord, to her obvious consternation. But, as Leon found rather interesting, despite being of equal tier to Alfonso, she didn’t resist that much to the forceful inclusion, and he wondered just what that meant.

With a sigh, Leon turned back to Elise. “Well. Seems everyone’s here, now. How much longer is this going to go on before the games begin, do you know?” Leon nodded into the box, but his eyes swept the arena’s empty stands. Not even a single commoner had entered the arena yet, though a few of the private boxes did appear to be inhabited by people waiting for the day’s events to start.

“I think there are a few members of the Conclave that haven’t arrived, but I believe the games will begin in about three hours. I’m unsure how long they usually take, though.”

Leon nodded, though in his heart he was a little dejected. This was looking to be an all-day affair, and he wasn’t sure if he had the mental energy for that.

“Make the most of it, husband,” Elise chided, her glittering emerald eyes not missing a single faint expression that passed over Leon’s face.

Leon just chuckled and replied, “I’ll try. I’ll try. Shall we go rejoin everyone else, then?” Despite asking the question, Leon knew the answer already, and he was steering Elise back into the room before he’d even finished asking. This was going to be a mentally exhausting day, so he figured he could at least ease into the social aspects by speaking with people he liked. To that end, he steered Elise toward Princess Cristina and Asiya. He caught Valeria’s eye on the way over, and she pried herself away from Marcus and Alcander to join the two on their short walk over.

But just a few steps away from the Princess, Valeria whispered to Leon, “There’s going to be a public execution as part of these games. No points for guessing who…”

The faint smile on Leon’s face froze as he glanced at Valeria.

It seemed that even though he’d handed Santiago over to the Alliance, he wasn’t finished with the bandit just yet.