It wasn’t everyday a man prepared to fight his grandfather. Sure, his mother Hamera had told Cronus that violence was out of the question, and she had specifically said that they were just being sent to talk him down, but he knew better. Hektorious was a senile old coot, unfit to be allowed outside, let alone rule the empire. “Now make no mistake,” he would often repeat to his squires and servants when they were alone. “The old man is a legend, easily the greatest ruler in history. But he’s old. His time is over. He hasn’t even picked up his sword for a hundred years! We need new blood, somebody younger and bolder. The Farantine empire could conquer the world if he wasn’t so drunk on his peace. It’s about time for his retirement don’t you think?”
His mother had never wanted to rule, his aunts and uncles were all varying levels of insane, and his siblings were egotistical maniacs. His cousins were weak and lacked the ambition to rule. His grandmother was competent he’d admit, but she was too cautious and concerned with the mortal cattle to be truly effective. As a humble demigod Cronus hated to admit his superiority, but he was by far the best man for the throne.
He just needed to claim it.
His squad rode hard and fast down the twisting alleyways on their warbirds, the dark gray velociraptor-like hawks chewing away at their steel bits as they careened across the city. Most warbirds were brown and not nearly as large, but members of the royal family had access to Gray Reapers, a rare and extremely expensive alchemically enhanced subspecies reserved for only those with divine blood. Cronus dug his spurs into his mount’s gray hide, ignoring its pained screeching as he demanded it go faster. He needed to catch Hektorious, and he wasn’t going to let the laziness of a stupid bird ruin it for him.
Mortals scattered like startled mice as they rode through bustling streets and crowded bazaars before they skidded to a stop at the fence that stood on the disc’s edge. The capital was built along the sides of the Divine Mountain like a gargantuan wedding cake, each district built on one hundred monolithic sandstone discs built by thousands of manipulation mages led by Hamera herself in a massive effort that took nearly a hundred years. Each ring stretched a miles from the mountain’s slope and stood a hundred feet above the one below.
The official reason on why the city was built in such an impractical way was that Hamera made it as a gift to the mortals. It was said she built it to allow them live closer to their gods, but Cronus had it on good authority that Hamera actually built it to spite her brother Aschelon after he claimed it’d be impossible.
The discs were connected by thousands of alchemically powered lifts built into alcoves carved in the sandstone cliff faces of the rings which transported pedestrians, livestock, cargo, and vehicles on massive platforms which travelled up and down the levels. Airships were available for wealthy citizens who disliked waiting for the ponderous lifts, and a few madly eccentric nobles had bred a new strain of Warbirds known as White Wraiths that were capable of flying passengers between the rings. A few careened above him now, weaving between ponderous airships that cluttered the skies and screeching like madmen rolling down a hill. Cronus needed no such pedestrian means of transportation. He twirled his hands together, calling on the invisible sea of arcane energy that flowed through the world and summoned a vast square of crimson magic beneath them that lifted off into the air.
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
The throngs of civilians surrounding it stopped still, in awe of the display before them. A few knelt to pray, and Cronus had to force himself away from wallowing in their adoration. He didn’t become who he was today by allowing distractions from such trivial things.
Still, he took a moment to bask as the twins Juno and Juna rode up beside him. Older than him by a century, they had remained the lowest ranked members of his family for decades. They seldom spoke and preferred to take orders rather than give them, which made the twins Cronus’s favorite half-siblings. Juno held the receiver of his portable radio to his ear, nodding at frequent intervals while Juna scanned the horizon. “Sister,” he said, turning to Juna. “Do you see where he’s headed?” She nodded, and pointed in the direction of the city’s South Gate. While both of the twins were exceptionally skilled with Manipulation, Juna dabbled in Perception as well. The use of Perception magic allowed the user to enhance their senses and see the light that radiated from concentrations of intense magical energy, making Juno a deadly marksman and useful asset on a manhunt for a god, since there wasn’t a concentration of magic larger than Hektorious. He’d heard that the brilliance he gave off was so intense that some Perception Mages could go temporarily blind from close proximity to him. “Juno, do the spotters say the same?” he asked, knowing that Juno was being fed information live from Hamera’s Surveillance Cabal. Juno grunted his affirmation and Cronus smirked. He was unnerved by how easily he and his grandfather could be tracked, but without their intelligence it’d be nigh impossible to find Hektorious within the stacked city. With them however, he was as easy to find as a starving warbird let loose in a nursery.
Much to Cronus’s chagrin, his musing was interrupted by the least welcome member of his search party as she cleared her throat from behind him. It was that blonde whore of a mortal that his mother had crowned colonel in what must have been a fit of madness. Laskari, the Emerald Storm. He nearly gagged just thinking of that ridiculous name. Ephemeral humans didn’t deserve epitaphs, nor commissions from his mother. Yes, he supposed the mortal had some skill with the arcane, but nothing compared to his own power. To be viewed as her peer was nothing less than the highest of insults. If he had his way, the woman would have never been allowed near his search party, but his mother had insisted and so he was forced to tolerate the bitch. “Yes colonel?” he replied without looking back. As a corporal, Colonel Laskari technically outranked him by a vast majority, but the Taliesin-Mercer act of 1786 had placed those with more than fifty percent divine blood in a completely separate chain of command. The godblooded still had to advance in the ranks normally, but no true semidivine would ever be subject to the whims of mortals, which was just as it should be. He had heard Hektorious had been against the bill, which was even further proof of his grandfather's senility.
The mortal rode beside him on her own smaller and brown warbird as Juno stepped aside. She held a map of the city in her gauntleted hands, a path outlined in red ink. “I’ve mapped a path out for us to intercept him. I recommend I approach him first, since I have a pre-existing rapport with the Emperor and he trusts me. You three can handle crowd control easily enough and prepare discrete transport.” Cronus looked at her expectantly, and the colonel stared back without even attempting to hide the venom in her eyes. “Sir.”
“Thank you colonel, and I appreciate your suggestion. It was a terrible and borderline blasphemous suggestion, but I appreciate it nonetheless.”
“Bu-“
“No buts. He’s my grandfather and he’ll respond better to me than some petty military officer.”
“When was the last time you two spoke?”
“Eight years ago if I recall correctly. Now if you would be so kind to shut your mouth before your yammering drives me to self lobotomize, we can be on our way.”
The Colonel’s plan wasn't half bad, if he wanted his grandfather pacified. He needed Hektorious angry, and only he could ensure that the old fool was properly goaded into a fight. A fight that Cronus could and would win. Once he had defeated his grandfather and proved his superiority, his family would have no choice but to submit and crown him Emperor.
He waved down to the cheering mortals below and with a slight lowering motion from his hand, his red square began to descend off the edge of the disk, and towards his throne.