The Storm King

Chapter 531: Values of the Old Clan

Leon sat in his villa staring at a wall, at a loss as to what he should be doing with himself. The King and Penitent had an enormous amount of work to do with the western revolts, so after agreeing to accompany any force sent out to track down Octavius, Leon hadn’t stayed with them for long.

He consequently had a few questions that were left unanswered, mostly related to the whereabouts of people like August, Roland, Minerva, and the Sapphire Paladin, but he supposed these concerns weren’t his, anymore. He was, in all practical terms, a mercenary, being paid to do a job and not having any official titles or ranks to go with it.

It stung a little bit that he couldn’t demand more of their time, especially since Leon had gotten the impression that they hadn’t wanted to end their meeting as abruptly as they did, but Leon held no regrets about resigning from his knightship.

But that didn’t solve his immediate problem: what to do with himself now that he was back home. Elise, Maia, and Valeria wouldn’t be back for days, and it would take at least that much time for the soldiers trying to find Octavius to send back any information, which meant that Leon had nothing else to do except sit at home.

He supposed he could be training. A little physical training was never a bad idea, and hitting something really hard sounded quite therapeutic, but again, Leon wasn’t really in that kind of mood. His current frustrations weren’t enraging him or filling him with adrenaline and killing intent. No, his anger toward Octavius had long since cooled from boiling rage to a cold hatred, not something that inspired much in the way of chaotic, physical violence. That wasn’t the kind of release Leon needed.

Instead, he supposed he ought to be studying enchantments or replenishing his stock of spells. However, simple rote recreations of spells wasn’t appealing to him at the moment. Rather, what he wanted wasn’t so much something productive as something more informative. He wanted to know more about the ancient Clan, especially since he’d been thinking so many negative thoughts about them recently, because regardless of how despicable they may have been, or how accurate the impression Leon had of them thanks to Nestor was, they had still held the title of Storm King for millions of years.

And he had the perfect person to begin to ask.

Leon cast his consciousness deep into his soul realm, laying down on his sofa and closing his eyes while upon his throne in his Mind Palace, his eyes opened and he stood up. He’d left the Forest of Black and White about ten days ago, but now it seemed almost like he was back.

“Are you all right, young one?” Nestor called out from not too far away, jerking Leon out of his almost meditative trance. He almost felt embarrassed, for he’d been standing in front of his throne for long minutes, and probably with a completely gormless look on his face, too. But he felt more irritation than embarrassment at Nestor’s interruption.

“Just thinking,” Leon responded through gritted teeth.

“Well don’t think too hard, you look like you’re about to burst a blood vessel!” the dead man shouted back.

Leon scowled, the thread of his previous thoughts suddenly being lost as he turned his attention toward the glowing ruby that housed Nestor’s magic body. He marched right on over to the gleaming stone and lifted hand, readying it to let loose with another gout of flame at Nestor for the obvious disrespect…

… But he caught himself. Nestor deserved so much more than a little bit of artisanal heating, but that was a separate issue.

After taking a deep breath, Leon let his hand fall back to his side, not even a single spark exiting his fingers. He wasn’t going to be that cruel, his ego wasn’t that fragile.

“I have questions, Nestor.” Leon didn’t bother being polite, Nestor hadn’t any choice and Leon wasn’t interesting in pretending that he did. Moreover, he was finding it fairly difficult to move past the possession. He shivered every time he thought about it.

Nestor, in a strange show that Leon didn’t expect, quietly replied, “I will do what I can to answer them. That was the agreement I made, no?”

Leon gratefully nodded, suddenly glad he hadn’t decided to roast the dead man. It might’ve been cathartic, but it could’ve shut him up or made him more reluctant to share information.

So, Leon went quiet for a moment after, silently contemplating what he wanted to ask, weighing what was most important for him to learn from Nestor. He still wasn’t in much of a mood to learn about enchantments, so that was off the table right from the start, but there were so many other things that Nestor could illuminate that he was finding it difficult to know where to start. Politics, administration, history, culture, Leon wanted to know all of it. He wanted to know what it meant to be a member of the Thunderbird Clan beyond merely bearing her power.

He’d resolved to not become them, or to at least not become the kind of person that Nestor was. But he was starting to think that maybe the legacy of the Thunderbird wasn’t solely invested in the mistakes of her Clan—was not House Raime a part of her legacy? And if there was any legacy Leon wanted to continue, it would be that of his more immediate Ancestors. But still, after some thought on the way back to the capital from Teira, Leon had realized that he would be a fool to blindly throw everything away out of disgust for one man.

He needed more information on the old Clan, if only to avoid their mistakes. The idea that the Clan had nothing more to teach him from its life and subsequent downfall was just as foolish.

Eventually, though, Leon realized that the best place to start would probably be when the Clan first came to Aeterna.

“What about your mother?” Leon asked out of curiosity.

“My mother was a concubine of so little consequence that my father never told me who she was,” Nestor explained so matter-of-factly that Leon was taken fairly by surprise.

“You… what about the rest of your siblings?”

“Same thing with them,” Nestor said. “As far as I know, none of us knew who birthed us, only that we were the scions of our father. None of his concubines came with us, though, so I imagine that my mother, whoever she was, is long dead by now.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?” Leon asked, thinking of his own mother and the circumstances that separated them. He didn’t even know her face, but he still felt pangs of loss when he thought about her—though, he had to admit that those feelings of loss stemmed mostly from the realization that something had been forcibly taken from him rather than specifically missing his unknown mother.

“It did, once. It doesn’t anymore. It’s been too long, I’ve quite stopped caring.” Nestor’s tone was emotionless, though engaged. Leon could hear in his voice that he truly didn’t care all that much anymore that he didn’t know who his mother was.

Leon sighed and moved on, recognizing that Nestor probably couldn’t offer much more in this respect. But he supposed that was for the best. Learning that Nestor didn’t care about the identity of his mother was just one more than that Leon could use to distinguish himself from the dead man.

“All right, then how about we get back to my original question? Do you know exactly what the Universe Fragment you were looking for was? Or any other information in that vein? How about anything else about this plane, or how such a powerful Clan met its end here?”

“Looks like you paid for that mistake,” Leon observed. Nestor had been poisoned to death by the light magics of the moon stone he’d been studying, which had carried a tiny portion of the power of a Primal God.

“Indeed I did.” Nestor didn’t run from that fact, he accepted his mistake and that of the Clan without any sign of unwillingness, which Leon appreciated. “We came here to take the Universe Fragment. My father wanted a third to add to our Clan, which would help us to rise above the other six Elemental Kings, who were steadily growing in power and were starting to ally against us. We needed that extra power, so my father decided while everyone was forced out of the Nexus to come here and take the Fragment.”

Leon grimaced as this was explained, accepting it without thought. After what he’d seen, that the previous Storm King, upon realizing that the Clan’s enemies were growing too powerful and too numerous, had decided to come here to plunder a mythical treasure rather than making friends of his own was something that he no trouble believing. Leon hardly blamed the man for it, he supposed it was something he would’ve done even as recently as a month ago.

Still, he’d hoped it had been for some other reason, something that might’ve restored a little bit of pride in his Ancestors. Instead, he consoled himself by letting it serve as greater motivation to change. It was just another thing that he could use to prove he wasn’t Nestor, or Jason, or in any way the kind of person who was capable of possessing a wandering, lonesome kinsman just because said kinsman was weak and naïve, even if Leon for whatever reason needed a new body.

As his face fell in disappointment, Leon abruptly changed the subject, not wanting to hear any more of that.

“Nestor, I have another question…”

Nestor had fallen into explaining how the Clan had started setting up on Aeterna once they’d arrived—a subject that otherwise would’ve fascinated Leon, but in this moment he’d barely been listening to—but he didn’t show any signs of aggravation at having been interrupted.

“I was told not that long ago about some of the crimes committed by the Clan…”

Leon proceeded to list off everything that Justin had accused the Clan of, the tyranny and unrestrained behavior that, if true, would’ve killed and otherwise destroyed lives beyond counting.

“Well, yeah, we did all that,” Nestor said without a hint of shame. Again, Leon felt his heart sink in disappointment, but he wasn’t surprised. “Most of those cities we put to the torch were rebels, and we had to make examples of them. After demonstrating our power in such a way, there would always be fewer rebellions. After a thousand years or so, though, the memories of these places would fade and we’d have to make additional examples as needed.

Leon scowled as Nestor continued, his scowl only growing deeper with every word that Nestor said. Eventually, Leon had to interrupt again. He couldn’t listen to any more.

“What was it like in the aftermath of Jason’s death, then?” Leon asked. “If the authority of the Clan could not be questioned and all those who tried fell like wheat before a scythe, then how is it we were so quickly defeated? Why is it the man who founded my House, your own younger brother, had to change his name to Raime?”

That finally got Nestor to pause a moment, but only a moment.

Leon nodded, accepting everything Nestor said without further interruption. When Nestor had finished, Leon’s face was marred by a deep scowl, and he was glaring off into the distance as if he could see the old members of the Clan whose power struggles had brought it to ruin after only a single reckless mistake and was ruthlessly judging them all unworthy.

With barely a sound, Leon spun on his heel and began walking out of the fort and toward the not-Forest of Black and White.

“Where are you going?” Nestor called out, surprised at Leon’s sudden departure.

Leon paused and slowly looked back over his shoulder. “I think I understand why you did what you did to me, dead man. Our Clan is one of murderers, thieves, rapists, and slavers. Tyrants. You’d fit right in, though from how badly you lost to me, I think you were probably the runt of the litter.”

Leon’s voice was calm and even, his judgmental feelings having faded away almost as quickly as they had risen.

Without another word, Leon walked down into the underground tunnel that led out of the fort, leaving Nestor there with no one—not even Xaphan, who was lost in meditation—to keep him company in the almost painful silence that followed. He didn’t shout out for Leon to stop, or try to further explain himself, he simply went quiet as Leon vanished from sight.