The Storm King

Iron Pride appeared in Leon’s hand, silver-blue lightning blazing across the blade. Beside him, the rest of the party readied themselves for battle, too, and the dof sand frozen in place lit up with arcane light. However, the hundreds of moving figures Leon could see below didn’t even falter as the auras of sof the most powerful mages on the plane crashed down upon the palace.

In the light of their magic, Leon could see bits of these figures glinting and gleaming, their bodies reflecting the light. With mounting curiosity, he took a moment to more closely inspect these figures, and as he took in what he saw, he felt more and more stupid.

“Wait!” he called out as Keeper prepared a titanic burst of power. “Hold on! Those aren’t hostiles!”

Keeper gave him a supremely skeptical look, but no deadly magic was fired into the streets of the old Thunderbird Clan palace, thankfully.

After waiting a few moments to see if any more figures would show themselves, Leon began to drift downward. In all, there were perhaps a thousand figures in total, which hardly presented much of a threat given what they were.

Each and every one of the figures was a golem. Many were shiny, their spotless bronze frames glimmering in the light of the four sun towers. Others were almost completely green, the dull patina marking them out as golems in desperate need of maintenance. Invariably, the golems who moved with irregular gaits were those that were heavily tarnished. Most, however, only showed mild signs of corrosion or damage, and none of the golems were armed or particularly armored.

The golems moved quickly, swarming to the large forum around the nearest entrance to the palace complex’s central dome, and once there, lining up into two formations flanking the dome’s entrance. In front of each formation stood several slightly larger and more ornately decorated golems—three in front of the eastern formation, and five in front of the western.

“They’re golems,” Leon explained, “not human residents of the city! We’re being welcomed, not attacked!”

Leon, Cassandra, and Alix all retracted their auras, with Keeper and the other Sentinel mage following suit only after exchanging a brief look between themselves, during which Leon was quite certain they were communicating silently about what to do.

“Slow yourself, Leon Raime,” Keeper demanded. “I do not like the look of this.”

Leon slowed slightly but continued descending. “Relax, Keeper! I haven’t forgotten our deal!”

Keeper scowled, but followed anyway, falling in behind Cassandra and Alix. The final Sentinel mage, however, remained hovering by the tunnel through the frozen storm.

Leon alighted upon the marble pavers of the southern forum, his only real consideration for caution leaving him to land several hundred feet away from the formations of golems. As if to spite even that small amount of caution, the golems immediately genuflected, lowering themselves to one knee. Even those that were heavily damaged by corrosion forced themselves to bow.

Taking this as proof that there was no danger, Leon strode forward, his wife and former squire flanking him while Keeper brought up a distant rear.

As his group approached the golems, a large silver runic circle appeared in the air in front of Leon. It was only just large enough to fit his hand in the center, which Leon, recognizing the runic circle, did immediately. A tiny bolt of lightning arced out from the floating runes and into his hand, and a moment later, bright lights covering the central dilluminated, casting the heart of the palace complex in bright silver and blue light.

One of the more ornate golems strode forward, stopping only about ten feet from Leon. The golem bowed at the waist, then in a mechanical voice devoid of any emotion, asked, “Welcome, Prince of the Clan. Please present ID.” The words were perfectly intelligible, though there were a few warbles and a high-pitched ringing sound when the golem spoke that indicated it wasn’t in the best condition.

Leon, grateful that he still had it, retrieved Demetrios’ platinum ID card and presented it to the golem. The golem didn’t even take the card, choosing instead to bow once more and say in its damaged, distorted voice, “Welchome, Prince Demetrios!”

Without wasting a beat, Leon asked, “What is the status of the palace?”

“Severe damage reported in all areas,” the golem immediately answered. “Most palace systems inoperable due to damage or triage.”

“Triage?” Leon asked for clarification.

“Many systems have been cannibalized to maintain defenses,” the golem explained.

Leon nodded. He glanced back at Keeper, who still stood a good distance away, his white eyes locked on Leon and the golem, not wavering at all despite the splendor of the ruined palace all around him.

Leon gave Keeper a reassuring smile—which the Keeper seemed to ignore completely—before taking Cassandra’s hand. “This is Cassandra, my wife,” he said. “She is to be treated as such a position demands. Alix here is a general of the Clan. And Keeper back there is a friend. Ensure that all of us are given appropriate privileges.”

The golem bowed once more, though not as deeply as the previous times. “Done,” it said.

“Where shall we begin, Your Highness?” the golem asked.

Leon frowned slightly in thought, then asked, “All of these golems. What is their purpose?”

“To maintain the palace,” the lead golem answered. “The workforce is currently operating at only three-point-two percent of the recommended level.”

Leon’s frown slightly deepened. “Are there no tools for creating new golems on site?” He knew that without a post-Apotheosis mage, there would be no way to gain new wisps to animate those golems, but if golems were able to build more frames, then theoretically, they could build a new golem and simply transfer wisps from one to another.

“That facility has been catastrophically damaged,” the lead golem reported.

Leon clicked his tongue in displeasure, then ran through several priorities in his head. “What about wisp maintenance tools?” he asked.

“That facility has been catastrophically damaged,” the lead golem repeated.

Leon silently cursed, then asked, “What about ambrosia brewing facilities?”

“That facility has been catastrophically damaged,” the lead golem stated a third time, and this time, Leon couldn’t resist the urge to groan.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“There are no facilities that are not catastrophically damaged,” the golem immediately reported.

Leon sighed. “All right, then. I guess that saves a lot of time. Are there any kind of archives here that we could…” He trailed off, his eyes running upward to the frozen sandstorm surrounding the palace. He glanced over his shoulder once more at Keeper.

“Disable the defenses,” he ordered the lead golem.

“Confirmation needed,” the golem immediately replied. “There are still hostiles detected outside of the storm line, and all other defensive lines are inoperable. Do you wish to continue shutting down the storm line?”

Without hesitation, Leon answered, “Yes.”

Gratifyingly, the golem instantly responded, “Order confirmed.” It cocked its head and three dozen golems peeled off from the western formation and sprinted deeper into the complex.

Noting that the palace could likely use as much maintenance as it could get, Leon then ordered, “All other golems can be dismissed back to their posts. You will be the only escort we require.”

The lead golem again cocked its head and the hundreds of golems amassed outside of the dome’s southern doors dispersed back to their stations.

“Now,” Leon said as the way ahead cleared, “how about that tour?”

The lead golem then bowed, and under its guidance, the small group entered the dome.

The entrance hall struck Leon immediately as the door opened.

Entrance halls were important in setting the stage for any grand structure. They struck the first impression, presenting the builder with their best opportunity to showcase their power. And the entrance hall just beyond the doors seemed like it was originally grand indeed, though what little remained of the grandeur was lost.

The hall was long and flanked by rows of silver columns etched with intricate enchantments supporting galleries above. None of these enchantments were functioning, and about half of the columns had toppled, along with most of the galleries. Mosaics had once covered the floor as reliefs and murals of projected light had once covered the walls, though nearly all had been destroyed by fire if what Leon thought were burn marks were any indication. The ceiling appeared to be dull, undecorated silver, though Leon suspected it once had a projected view of the sky upon it, just as the Cradle had, though he could only speculate as there was no sign of such enchantment remaining.

In short, the entrance hall was ruined. As they walked further in, Leon could see that much of the rubble from the halls’ ruination had been collected into the hall’s corners. Broken bits of the columns, broken statues, bits of the reliefs that had been shattered and charred black, and more besides that he couldn’t identify all piled up in a stark statement of just what had happened to his Clan. What struck him the most was the head of a statue of the Thunderbird had either by chance of design been placed upon the largest heap of rubble facing the door, the marble blackened, the face cracked.

Leon didn’t linger, but as the lead golem led them through the largest and most important chambers in the central dome, the view rarely changed. Just about everything had been destroyed. Much had been cleaned up as much as the golems could manage, but nothing had been fixed.

Something that Leon found both disappointing and relieving was when the golem brought them to the dome’s main power room. There had been a part of him that was worried they’d find simmortal creature locked away in the bowels of the dome, being drained of its magic to fuel the complex’s defenses. His relief stemmed from finding the main power room devoid of such cruelties, though his disappointment kicked in when no other salvageable materials were found. Still, explaining to the Keeper what the room was for was uncomfortable.

“What is this place?” the Keeper asked as they entered. Several dozen circular plinths filled the room, swith dead power-draining vines still dangling from the ceiling over them. Keeper had largely been silent during their tour, and Leon grimaced when he asked the question—he knew it was not rhetorical.

“Living beings were imprisoned in places like these to be drained of their magic power,” Leon slowly said, not shying away from the brutality of his Ancestors. “I’ve been led to believe that it was painful and extremely damaging to be so imprisoned…”

[That, and more,] Xaphan grumbled.

Leon went into a little more detail, and when he was done, Keeper’s expression remained stoically neutral, though he said with undisguised disgust, “What barbarity. When you wonder why I am so hostile to you, Leon Raime, think of places like this.”

“I do not condone such means of power generation, Keeper,” Leon stated.

“Never have I suggested you did.”

“And yet,” Leon stated as he surveyed the room, “I feel compelled to make it clear, regardless of what you have or have not insinuated. I agree: such means are barbaric, and will not be used by my Kingdom.” He turned to face Keeper. “For what it’s worth, you have my word on that.”

Keeper didn’t react, leaving Leon to only hope that his words found purchase in the old man’s mind.

After that, he looked for any possible magic power batteries, but the golem informed him that they had all been looted.

“The people of Aeterna reclaimed their power,” Keeper whispered.

“Good for them,” Leon said, a little more bitter about that than he was of the lack of prisoners. He could’ve certainly used that power. Besides, he knew that the main power crystal for the palace complex would be located in the enchantment control room, and was more likely to still retain a significant amount of power.

Or so he hoped.

“How’s the power situation in the rest of the palace?” he asked the golem, seeking an answer to that unstated question.

“Sufficient to continue powering the defenses,” the golem replied. “Power requirements are low due to damage to palace-wide systems.”

Leon nodded gratefully and the tour continued.

When the tour of the dfinished, Leon found himself disappointed, relieved, impressed, and curious. The main hall of the dwas in the center of the building, with a ceiling that extended to the top of the ditself. There were still no enchantments aside from slights, so much of the grandeur was lost, but the sheer size of the main hall and what little was left spoke to the power and strength that had built all of it.

On the west side of the main hall was a raised dais where Jason Keraunos’ public throne once sat. From there, he received public visitors, the golem informed Leon, and hosted the largest gatherings. The main throne room he used was much smaller and more intimate, though.

All around the edge of the hall were dead, petrified tree trunks shorn of branches and leaves. There were shallow pools and artistically-placed patches of dirt all around, though nothing was growing within them. Still, it was enough for Leon to get a good idea of what the hall had looked like in its heyday.

“Indoor gardens?” Cassandra guessed when the subject was brought up.

“Yes,” Leon confirmed. “Thunderbird blood also brings a bit of an aversion to indoor spaces. So the most refined buildings my Clan built would simulate the outdoors, and as you can see, have high ceilings or easy access to the exits. The ceiling would have an enchantment that simulated the sky, making these places feel like they didn’t have roofs.”

Cassandra sighed in appreciation, but Keeper huffed disapprovingly.

“You don’t like it, Keeper?” Leon asked.

“Such a waste of resources,” he derided. “Such luxuries instill in men the desire for more. Finery is to be condemned, not admired.”

Leon scowled. “I get where you’re coming from, but I disagree.”

“Ostentatious wealth distracts from the needs of your people,” Keeper argued. “Those rulers that glorify themselves should instead think of ways to improve the lives of those responsible for their wealth. Your Ancestors were brutal, slaving warlords. Nothing more. No amount of gold or silver or marble will ever erase that.”

Leon bit back a retort; he understood Keeper’s argument, and given his own complex feelings regarding his Clan, he didn’t feel particularly up to trying to defend their actions.

[Brightly-colored animals aren’t so vibrant just to attract mates,] Xaphan added. [Many use color as a warning to potential predators.]

Leon resisted the urge to snort in laughter as the Thunderbird kept ranting about the benefits of beauty in architecture, and in search of a distraction, he asked the lead golem, “Are there any more critical chambers to be seen here?”

The golem cocked its head again, then said, “Messages left by Lord Koukouva yet require attention, Your Highness.”

Leon’s eyebrows almost shot past his hairline. “Where and how do we see these messages?” he asked.

“This way,” the lead golem indicated with an outstretched hand. “The neighboring comms building yet retains the messages.”

“Then let’s go!” Leon insisted. As he recalled, Lord Koukouva was the leader of a vassal Clan that had taken control of a large portion of the other vassals in the wake of Jason Keraunos’ death. Much of the infighting between the vassals, Leon had been led to believe, had taken place between factions led by Koukouva and another Clan leader named Pindar. The latter had wanted to replace Jason Keraunos while the former led those who followed him to evacuate Aeterna. Leon had no idea what becof them after that. He didn’t even know if their evacuation plans succeeded.

But if Lord Koukouva had left messages behind, then Leon desperately wanted to see them, to know more about the chaos that descended upon his Clan’s vassals after the downfall of his Clan.