The Storm King

Chapter 543: A Legend From Kindred Cultures

Leon stared out at Kraterok from one of the palace’s balconies, not looking at anything in particular, but just staring in thought. The others in his squad had been given places to rest, so that’s where they’d all gone, Anzu was set up in a nearby stable, and Maia was back in his room burying her face in a book—she proved herself to be just as loath to use the room set aside for her here as she was on Sigebert’s ship.

He had to not just be ready for reluctant former vassals of the Thunderbird Clan, but he also had to be ready for rebellious vassals and to deal with people who would resent giving up some of their freedom and independence to a new Storm King. He had to be ready to somehow impose his will upon people who would rather he didn’t. To a large extent, it was even against his nature to become a conqueror, and he couldn’t imagine himself waging a war of conquest without being given adequate cause.

The Thunderbird Clan of yore would simply use violence to get what they wanted, that much was clear from Leon’s conversations with Nestor and the Thunderbird herself. After a couple months spent thinking, Leon wasn’t quite so opposed to that strategy, but he didn’t want it to be his first-resort. He’d have to replace it with something.

That something would have to some kind of negotiation, and he wasn’t good at that. So, he resolved to pay a little bit more attention to how the Bull Kingdom was going to deal with the Serpentine Isles. It would hopefully be an illuminating experience.

He couldn’t help but momentarily wish that he could go back in time a few years. Everything had been so much easier when his father was alive and Leon didn’t have to think about any of this. His life in the Forest of Black and White with Artorias had been simple and happy, free of these responsibilities that he kind of resented.

But he wouldn’t trade his current life for his old one even if he had the opportunity, momentary desires aside. Having Maia and Elise in his life ensured that, so he knew he was left with only one option: to do his best to man up and surmount this challenge.

As he stood there, leaning against the wooden railing and lost in thought, he was disturbed from his musings when a huge bird landed upon the railing just a few feet away. And it was a big thing, as far as birds went, with a wingspan greater than six feet and about three feet tall. It was hawkish, with a viciously curved beak and talons that looked sharp and powerful enough to tear a boar to pieces with little effort. Strikingly, this bird had a robust fourth-tier aura, far more than a run-of-the-mill city bird.

Its eyes and feathers, however, were what truly unnerved Leon. Its eyes were the exact same shade of yellow as the Thunderbird, and it had a near-identical pattern of shining brown flecked with gold on its coat. If the Thunderbird were to come out and tell Leon that this was some long-lost relative, he’d find it easy to believe.

The bird perched itself on the railing for several long seconds, simply staring at Leon, locking him in its gaze. It didn’t twitch, it barely even moved to breathe, it just stared.

And then, without any other warning, it took off again, vanishing over the roof of the mansion.

Leon rapidly blinked in surprise, his jaw still hanging slightly open, his stance slightly defensive.

“Is everything all right?” asked a voice from the balcony’s door. Leon turned and saw that Turiel, the Islander that had seemingly took charge of the remaining local elites following the Legion seizing the island, had just walked out onto the balcony.

Leon fought to keep his expression neutral, clamping down on his surprise and not letting his immediate reaction of mild misanthropic annoyance to manifest itself on his face. He didn’t have the best of first impressions when it came to Turiel, but he figured that if he were to ever become better at talking to people and getting them on his side, then he might as well start now.

“Yeah,” he murmured thoughtfully before putting a bit more iron into his tone. “You Islanders have some crazy birds living here, I have to say. Just saw one almost as large as me!”

“Is that so?” Turiel asked with a light smile as he walked over to join Leon at the railing. “The jungle is a wild place and has proven itself a breeding ground for all sorts of strange creatures. Scaled things with six legs, a hundred eyes, and a mouth that could swallow a rowboat whole. Great cats with eyes that glow like lit coals and claws that could strip a ship of its hull in minutes—or a man of his skin in seconds. Birds large enough to carry off livestock and strong enough to not care at all when men try to scare them away. And that’s just what’s inland, I’m not even counting what prowls our coasts…”

“Sounds like a fantastic place to live,” Leon replied, his tone only partially sarcastic. Hearing Turiel describe these creatures, Leon had some small desire to go out and see them for himself—probably from the same side of himself that deeply missed his childhood lifestyle.

“It can be, when it’s not caught in between a pirate who aspires to be a King and the massive fleet that showed up to enforce another King’s will,” Turiel replied as he leaned up against the railing, his expression one of almost amused resignation. “I asked those Legates a few questions about you, you know. I hope you don’t mind, but I found myself rather curious.”

Leon raised an eyebrow, feeling both mildly offended and a little understanding. He supposed the polite thing to do would be to say that Turiel could’ve simply asked his questions to Leon himself, but Leon doubted he would’ve been so accommodating, and he wasn’t of a mind to lie. Already he could feel some distrust and offense building up.

“What made you curious, I wonder?” he asked. “Couldn’t have been because of my charming personality.”

“I watched the battle from up here,” Turiel explained as he gestured out toward the bay, where the hundreds of Legion ships were sailing in and out, disgorging marines or picking up requisitioned supplies or whatever it was that they did. “Well, not ‘up here’ up here; until Sir Sigebert showed up, this place was still a private residence even if Dene—the man who lived here before—died in the fighting. But I was still able to watch the battle, and I have to say, lightning magic is quite eye-catching, and certainly not something I’m used to seeing in the Bull Kingdom.”

“So you watched me in the fight?” Leon asked.

“I did indeed,” Turiel admitted with a smile. “When one man leads a group of not even half a dozen to secure an entire island, and all while sparkling like a Grierie tree, it can be hard to look anywhere else.”

“I… don’t know what that is…?”

Leon lightly grimaced, but he decided to take the comparison as a compliment and moved on.

“So, what did the Legates say about me?” he asked.

“That you’re a seventh-tier mage, a strong fighter, and not someone to fuck around with,” Turiel replied. “A shame, I would’ve invited back to my place if that last one weren’t the case…”

He gave Leon a suggestive look and a brilliant smile, and while Leon immediately began to feel a little uncomfortable, he didn’t immediately shoot the idea down. In fact, he didn’t quite know how to respond to that, and as the Islander paused for an uncomfortably long time, Leon just stood there looking anywhere but at him, desperately trying to figure out a way to refuse without being unduly rude.

“Penitent is back in the Kingdom guarding the King,” Leon quietly replied, still a little uncomfortable and quite surprised at Turiel’s admittance of attraction.

And maybe a little flattered, too, but he’d rather not have that kind of attention.

“That’s unfortunate,” Turiel said, showing a hint of sadness that Leon found odd. “I had been hoping to meet the Paladin when he arrived. He’s had such an influence on these islands that I would’ve loved to have an opportunity to speak with him again.”

“Again?”

“Yes, I’ve met him before. I’m an Islander, and while I’ve been all over this plane for my occupation as a merchant, I was born and raised here about fifty years ago.”

“So you met the Paladin when you were child? When he came through here before?”

Turiel smiled and nodded. “I wonder, Leon—if I may call you that?”

“That’s fine,” Leon replied, his eyebrow rising again due to the sudden shift in conversation.

“I wonder why you came here, Leon? Penitent came here to subjugate the pirates that had infested this island, and all the Bull’s soldiers that have come since have been seeking to maintain the Bull King’s hold over these islands and its people. But you? Not a Paladin, but a seventh-tier mage, and one who possesses strange magic? And possesses an even stranger aura…”

Leon took a step back, bristling at Turiel’s veiled question.

“I mean no offence, I but wish to ask you this question. Why did you come here? Was it for money? Glory? I daresay that even with the relative poverty of these islands, both can be found here…”

Turiel gave Leon an inviting expression, and Leon took another step back, his discomfort cranking up another notch.

“No,” he anxiously choked out. “My reasons for coming here are personal. I just want to bring Octavius back to the Bull Kingdom. I expended a great deal of energy making sure his coup failed, and I don’t want to see all of that work now go to waste just because some shitstick pirate thought breaking him out would make for a fun party story.”

Turiel’s expression froze for a moment, his eyes slowly wandering away from Leon.

Leon scowled, almost saying that had faith in his abilities to deal with the pirate, but he stopped himself. He had faith in his abilities to deal with anything they found in the Forest of Black and White, and he’d spent nearly his entire time back there being kicked around and running for his life. He was strong, but he couldn’t let his power blind him to the danger of others, especially not those of the same tier. Already, only a matter of weeks after returning to the Bull Kingdom, he could feel himself starting to slide back into old habits.

“Your warning is well-received,” he murmured.

“I hope it is,” Turiel replied, flashing him a quick wink. “I wonder, Leon, how much do you know of old Serpentine legends?”

“Any reason you’re asking?” Leon asked.

“Just a wonder. Do you know why these islands are called the Serpentine Isles?”

Leon frowned as he thought about it for a moment. “… Because they’re shaped kind of like a coiled serpent?” he said, despite knowing that was probably the wrong answer that Turiel was baiting out.

“Some certainly think that’s the case,” Turiel replied. “Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. People have seen stranger things in far more esoteric places. People instinctively see patterns where none exist—pattern recognition is a deeply important part of the human psyche. So, maybe it’s because of the placement of these islands, I don’t know. But the stories that are told by Serpentine mothers to their children are a little different. Would you like to hear them?”

Leon shrugged noncommittally.

“Conversation will do,” Leon said, his voice cracking a little bit, but otherwise remaining stoic and reserved, his defenses toward this kind of flirting now having been raised enough to shrug it off a little bit easier than a minute or two ago.

“Unfortunate, but such is life,” Turiel replied with another suggestive smirk.

Their destination wound up being the peristyle courtyard where the meeting with the Fleet Legates had taken place. There were still a few dozen Legion knights working within since the place had essentially been turned into the city’s capitol on land. The Fleet Legates, however, were off ensuring that enough peace was brought to the city that it wouldn’t immediately collapse into anarchy upon their departure—and Leon imagined that Sigebert was searching the city for any sign of the Prince, even though Turiel had told them that Octavius was no longer in the city—something which Leon was starting to wonder why Turiel wasn’t helping with, if he were actually trying to become the next Earl, as he’d claimed during the meeting.

The man was a strange mystery, and Leon was becoming more and more tempted to try to figure out just what he was trying to hide, if his impression of the man was accurate.

“Up there,” Turiel said as he brought them to a halt off to one side of the courtyard, just past the wooden columns and into the open air, one hand raised and pointing to the friezes just above the row of columns.

Leon directed his gaze up there and saw a series of painted carvings on the wood showing various scenes that, without further context, didn’t make much sense. He saw some kind of serpent, a bunch of people bowing to it, and maybe three leaders of some kind. It was difficult to tell what exactly he was looking at, but at the very least, it seemed to be some kind of continuous story rather than a series of disconnected scenes.

“You see that?” Turiel said as he pointed toward what Leon took to be the beginning of the story that the friezes were telling. It looked kind a mountain with a serpent coiled around it. “That is the Serpent of ancient times, the old god of these islands since ages long past. It’s fallen out of favor in the past few millennia, but it’s still a common story told in these islands.

“Now, the way it goes is like this: These islands used to be innumerable, extending all the way to the edges of the Endless Ocean—how they managed to do that, I can’t imagine, but so the story goes, at least—and they were all ruled over by the Great Horned Serpent.”

Leon perked his head up a bit. He knew that name, it was the title used by the evil spirits of the Valeman religion. Instantly, his eyes refocused on the serpent coiled around the mountain on the frieze. It didn’t look like how the Valemen depicted their serpent, but that didn’t surprise him overmuch. But now that he knew what he was looking for, he could see the horn, it was just depicted in such a style that he hadn’t been sure what in the hells it was until Turiel named the creature.

“One day,” Turiel continued, “the serpent, who up until that point had been ruling well and decently, was struck by madness.”

Leon’s eyes washed over the sight of the mountain covered in cities and scenes of glory, all with the serpent above them depicted in curving flowing lines. The point at which it was struck by madness, the serpent became jagged and edged, striking a far more menacing style than previous images.

“It ruled these islands with fear and death. If its demands for blood and gold were not met, it would fill the cities of the Serpentine Isles with its venom—my mother actually used to tell me that the jungles of these surviving islands used to be dense cities that rivaled those of the Central Empires, but the serpent washed them away with its venom, allowing the jungle to take what land was left over as punishment.

“The people of the Serpentine Isles were not capable of providing the required tributes for long, and so they sought outside help from the mainland. And three heroes answered.”

On the frieze, Leon turned his eyes toward the three ‘leaders’ he’d seen on his initial scan, and after another moment, recognized the rough poses that they’re greatly simplified forms had been placed in: they were the same three that were carved into statues over on the sea wall.

“When these heroes came, each one brought their own powers. One brought lightning, another brought wind, and the last brought water. They fought the serpent in a terrible battle that destroyed all but eight of the previously endless islands, and won. In punishment for its crimes, the serpent was sealed away in the heart of the plane, miles beneath the surface, directly under the Serpentine Isles.”

The end of the frieze showed the three heroes standing on the mountain, the serpent upside-down beneath it, the people of the Isles cheering and celebrating its fall.

All in all, it sounded much like the stories Leon hear