The Storm King-Chapter 1162 - League of Desperation
The atmosphere in Shatufan was morose.
Only a few weeks ago, when the usurpers and false King were thrown out, the people were jubilant, thrilled to have won their independence back, to have thrown off the shackles that some self-important Azadan had wanted to impose upon them.
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Manuchehr, riding high off of his triumphant return to the city and landslide victory in the subsequent snap election, was eager to add to his glory with a successful military campaign. He’d even elevated Shatufan’s prestige by organizing and dominating a new league of some of the most powerful cities in the Far West. He’d then sent terms to Leon Raime, trusting in the strength of this new league. He’d dreamed of sacking Artorion, killing or running off the arrogant King who’d thought to subjugate them, and then moving on to the rest of the cities in the Far West. He even dreamed of achieving Apotheosis and uniting all of the Far West behind him as their Strategos.
Such dreams had come easily in the wake of his successes. The people were similarly lost in dreams, for when Manuchehr went before the city’s public assembly and requested their consent to assemble an expeditionary force, his proposal passed almost unanimously. It was no surprise that Leon Raime rejected their demands, and Manuchehr sent the expedition off with great expectations.
When the paltry handful of survivors of that expedition returned, bringing with them tales of how quickly and soundly they were defeated, the celebratory mood in the city popped, leaving nothing behind but fear and anger. Surviving Azadan blamed everyone but themselves, while the people, who had so enthusiastically supported Manuchehr’s plan, blamed their noble leaders instead of lamenting their vote in the public assembly. It was all Manuchehr could do to keep the peace in the city for those first few days, let alone see to the needs of the league.
Almost as soon as Manuchehr managed to calm the people, his league was dealt another critical blow when it was made known that King Numa was traveling to Artorion. The reason wasn’t known, but Manuchehr could hazard a guess.
The league was failing in the light of the disastrous campaign.
The reality of their situation hit them hard. Leon Raime was not nearly as weak as many had wished following the retreat of Despot Terris. He still had more than enough strength to dominate the Far West.
Dread settled into Manuchehr’s stomach over the next few days. A King like Leon Raime wouldn’t let such an expedition go without retaliation—if he did, he might lose legitimacy amongst his people, even battered as they were. Some response was required.
Manuchehr, despite this dread, didn’t stand idly by and wait for doom to come to his city. He sent out messengers and organized a meeting amongst the cities of his new league. They may have lost Rolor’s Highcastle, he reasoned, but the rest of the league was still strong, and could be made stronger.
Hosragan and Elegan’s acceptance to meet came as a great boon, but it was almost entirely balanced out when Krizos didn’t respond. Krizos, at least, had committed to the expedition, but Hosragan and Elegan, two perennial rivals, only agreed to meet.
‘We can still pull this off,’ Manuchehr told himself in the days leading up to the most important meeting of his entire life. ‘Powerful though that bastard King may be, he’s nothing compared to a united Far West!’
Two days before the meeting was scheduled to begin, the delegations from the other cities arrived. They had barely been welcomed when word came of new arks appearing to the south—a massive fleet had appeared from a local portal and flew immediately for Artorion. Leon Raime had been there to welcome them. They were reinforcements for his city.
Such were the circumstances under which the meeting began.
The delegates met in an old temple from a time when Shatufan had been more religious and spiritual. Manuchehr couldn’t even recall the name of the god the temple had been built to honor, but it was one of the grandest buildings in the city that hadn’t been defaced or damaged in the city’s recent strife, making it the only place worthy of such a meeting.
A round table was set up in the temple’s main marble hall, flanked by silver pillars and a sunset sky projected onto the ceiling. Though such a table was meant to suggest all the cities were equal, Manuchehr sat on the end closest to the temple’s empty apse, opposite the side sitting closest to the grand doors. If there was a city that was first among equals, then it was Shatufan.
The other delegates arrived soon after he did, and there was little in the way of glad-handing or traditional diplomatic overtures. Everyone knew why they were there; everyone knew how much stronger Leon Raime had become with the arrival of the new ark fleet. But Manuchehr pressed on.
“Gentlemen, good day,” he said in as neutral of an accent as he could manage. He’d made an effort to speak the common tongue better over the past two months, and in his humble opinion, had excelled in this endeavor. “It pleases me to see all of you here, now. I believe we are all aware of the reason why I have requested this conclave?”
The delegate for Hosragan, sitting opposite from the Elegan delegate, finally turned his eyes from his city’s rival and growled, “The new King to our south.”
“Indeed,” Manuchehr replied. “King Leon Raime represents an existential threat to all of our cities! He provoked the Ocean Lords, sacked my city, and left Lancefoot so ruined that she can’t provide any aid in this matter even if she wants to! Now, that bastard has willfully and deliberately destroyed an army sent out by my beautiful city to conduct training exercises with our allies!” The Presiding Magus nodded to the delegate from Sentudon, who sat opposite from him. He and his Sentudonian counterpart had discussed their strategy the night before, and while the man had been deeply apprehensive about their chances against Artorion, Manuchehr had managed to get him to agree to his proposed strategy.
“Such an aggressive nature threatens all in the Far West,” the Sentudonian delegate added. “We are all in danger! We must band together, pooling our cities’ power, and resist this interloper from the planes!”
The Eleganian delegate scoffed. “I’ll be cold in the ground before I fight alongside anyone from the Great Cesspit!”
The Hosraganian delegate slammed his fist on the table, sending cracks spiderwebbing from end to end. “Your city has long been the boil on the face of the Far West!”
“I admire how you can say that with a straight face, Jerikh. When the wind blows in from the east and carries the stench of your city to mine, my people struggle not to vomit where they stand! The wailers go without work for all wail in grief at the reminder of the fetid pit you call home!”
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The Hosraganian delegate rose from his seat, murder in his eyes. Manuchehr jumped in, not wanting this chance to revitalize his league to fall apart before it even began.
“Friends! Please, we are all neighbors! And we are all facing the same existential crisis! What do the griefs and rivalries of old matter in the face of an enemy who will tear down our walls, burn our homes, sell our women and children into slavery, and sow our fields with salt?”
The Hosraganian delegate gave Manuchehr a dismissive glare. “What have we to fear from this King? We have done nothing to him, and he nothing to us. It sounds to me more like he has strong feelings about your cities, but not mine.”
“As if that will ever matter to a King,” Manuchehr spat. “Such tyrants are never sated. Today, it might be Rolor’s Highcastle. Tomorrow, Sentudon and Shatufan. The day after? Will that be Krizos? Or will he seek the closer meal? Will he turn west for your cities?”
“The people and Azadan of Elegan will never submit to him,” the Eleganian delegate declared. “But neither are we keen for war between us. So speak plainly, Magus: what are you asking of my city, and why are you asking the same from that stinking hive?”
Before the Hosraganian delegate could interrupt, Manuchehr launched into his request. “I am building a new league, one strong enough to resist even a Strategos. Such a thing, while difficult, is not impossible. It will only be possible if all the cities of the Far West unite in purpose, if we set aside our disagreements to deal with the more pressing issue! Honorable Sentudon has already agreed, and now I ask Hosragan and Elegan to ad your strength to ours! Let the people of the Finger Lakes be good and proper neighbors! Let us lock our shields and resist these invaders, winning us glory for all of our peoples!”
“Glory shared with Eleganians is glory tarnished,” the Hosraganian delegate growled.
“I will die before fighting alongside one of these rotten orscopes!” the Eleganian delegate retorted, resorting to his native tongue to express his anger and disdain.
The Hosraganian delegate drew a dagger and slammed it into the table. Glaring threateningly at the delegate opposite him, he hissed, “Keep wagging that serpent’s tongue and see it cut from your worthless skull!”
The other members of the Hosraganian and Eleganian delegations, who had spent the meeting thus far eyeing each other up from where they waited in the wings, began baring steel of their own and taking threatening steps forward. Manuchehr began to panic, not wanting his attempt to forge his league devolve into infighting before it had even begun, rose and shouted, “Peace! We are here under a banner of peace!”
Both rival parties glared daggers at each other, but his words were enough to get them to back down, though not quite relax entirely.
“Aurichalcum,” the Presiding Magus whispered, drawing the attention of those who were about to slaughter each other. “Lumenite. Titanstone. This city… has reserves of all three that the tyrant King missed when he visited chaos upon my wondrous city. Large stockpiles. We will open them up for our league to use. Those who join us in common defense, even if for reasons other than common defense, will see their efforts pay off.”
For the first time, silence reigned after his offer. Titanstone was rare, and Lumenite was hard to manufacture. Aurichalcum, however, was another beast entirely, and the prospect of gaining a significant amount of the material was enough for even the two hateful rivals to forget their rivalry, even if for only a moment.
“How much?” the Eleganian delegate asked, surprising Manuchehr not at all that he would let his greed get to him first—Elegan had a reputation for ruthless mercantilism.
“We can get into specifics later,” Manuchehr stated. “But suffice it to say that we can easily pay for our cities to wage war for years, if our needs demand it. So let us bankroll the league.”
“Such an offer does not come without strings,” the Hosraganian delegate observed, showing similar shrewdness to his rival, though slightly more self-control.
“Let it be Shatufan who leads this league,” Manuchehr said. “Our reserves will pay for it, it’s only fair. Though with us acting in common defense, a common peace will be imposed, and Shatufan will mediate between the members of the league.”
The Eleganian delegate rolled his eyes. “Are we sure it is not this foreign King who wishes to annex us? Or is someone closer to home who looks to our city with the eyes of a skultos?”
“I do not offer out of greed,” Manuchehr whispered, though for a moment, he was almost overcome with thoughts of seeing all of these proud men on their knees before him after he’d achieved Apotheosis. “I offer out of necessity. The league needs leadership. For all that my fair city has suffered, we are still the strongest and richest city amongst those of the Finger Lakes.”
“Not strong enough to forego begging for aid,” the Hosraganian delegate whispered.
“Who wouldn’t?” the Sentudonian delegate interjected. “When faced with the crisis which we all now do? King Leon fought off Despot Terris! How can any of us stand alone against him? This league is our only hope! If we don’t stand together, then we shall all fall alone!”
“Remind us what happened the last time you ‘stood together’ against him,” the Hosraganian delegate pointed out. “It wasn’t that long ago; you shouldn’t have forgotten.” He turned his eyes to Manuchehr. “You ask us for much, and that will come at a cost. A heavy cost.”
“A very heavy cost,” the Eleganian delegate added, the two rivals now united in greed.
Manuchehr was exasperated, but also somewhat relieved. Aurichalcum, the strength of Shatufan, was enough to get them on his side. Now that he had them on the line, he just had to reel them in.
“Let’s negotiate, then,” he said. “How much my fair city parts with will depend on how much she is supported…”
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Leon flew in lazy circles above the northern Talon, enjoying how the wind gathered beneath his wings and glided through his gleaming white feathers. All around him flew hundreds of other transformed Thundermen, while half of the arks in his fleet slowly maneuvered into a good flying formation with faster arks surrounding a core of larger and more powerful arks.
Though the sky was clear, thunder rumbled through the valley, around the mountains, and over the northern plains. His golden eyes peered northward, to their destination: Sentudon.
The walls of the city were strong and thick, but only amounted to a single layer of defense in most places. The city was simply too large to heavily fortify, especially since it lay in flatlands between the two southernmost Finger Lakes. It was a large and sprawling city, and its population was measured in the millions.
Soon, they would all count themselves Thundermen, too. Had his beak been capable of it, Leon would’ve smiled in anticipation.
Instead, lightning flickered through his feathers just as a small white dove-like bird came flying over to him. Locking his dark-red eyes upon Leon, Clear Day said telepathically, [We are ready to begin.]
Leon clicked his beak in acknowledgment, and with only a look, ordered the tau to begin his part of this conquest. With a few beats of his wings, the small bird accelerated faster than should’ve been possible given his size, bound for Sentudon.
At the same time, Leon flapped his wings a few times, generating terrible thunder claps that served as a signal to all of his people. At a more leisurely pace, they followed in Clear’s wake, with Leon and a cloud of various beasts flying through the air whether they had wings or not leading the way, and the arks following just behind them.
Enough time would be given to Clear for him to work. However, Leon doubted such an offer would be accepted. Penelope had warned him only the day before that all of Shatufan was abuzz from the announcement of the formation of an official league, an alliance of cities formed from a singular purpose: to resist Artorion.
He wished he could smile. It was only one more casus belli to add to his list. This league would fall with each individual city.
Though, he was more surprised by what Penelope and Icarius relayed only a few hours after that revelation—Aurichalcum had been pulled from hidden stockpiles and sent to Elegan and Hosragan, essentially buying their compliance with the league. He hadn’t seen any troop movements from either city, however, so he assumed they weren’t even close to marshalling their forces yet.
With Krizos apparently not participating in this league and Highcastle now his vassal, there wasn’t much this league could do, as far as Leon was concerned. The Far West was as good as his, he only had to take it.
So, with Xanthippe leading the fleet behind him and Elise and the Jaguar running Artorion in his absence, Leon led his forces northward. The Far West was about to be unified.
