Novels2Search
Lightning Toddler Goes to War to Find His Mom
Chapter 24 A Duke’s Unluck, and a Lightning Lord’s Decree

Chapter 24 A Duke’s Unluck, and a Lightning Lord’s Decree

The mission was clear, convince the duke to send a thousand of his people to their deaths. Liam pinched his brow, opening a peeping portal as he walked towards the Ducal throneroom. In the heart of once verdant Kheresh, stood the duke’s palace of stone and green gardens. Domes of burnished gold glittered beneath the noonday sun. Relics from the golden age, when the gold mingled with green jungles in a manner that pleased the eye and drew visitors from distant lands. Humans came to marvel, and elves, from the northern forests and the southern jungles came to see the beauty of Khereshetal’s minarets. But no longer. For gold held no contrast against sand. Though the minarets, like the spears of a thousand giants, pierced the azure sky, denoting the grand palace of Duke Aliyar Kheresh. The palace, a marvel of human craftsmanship and mystical artifice, was a castle of white alabaster, where every column bore a decade’s worth of engravings. The bas-reliefs of jungles had not aged, and now they seemed to mock the dead land, laughing as it reminded all of ancient times. When the city of Khereshetal was the center of intercontinental trade; instead of the landlocked wasteland it had become.

This eerie lesson was not lost on Liam, but he understood why the Duke did not tear down the sculptures or plaster over the bas-reliefs. It was a simple, but lackluster reason. If he held a humble court, then people would say the Duke lacked means, while displaying his wealth gave the supplicants hope that he held the power to change their lives. So it was on a court of multilayered rugs and rolling hills of cushions that the Duke's court held session. An assembly of viziers, watch captains, poets, scholars, peasants, merchants, and lastly three scores of Kharmite warriors, all gathered under an immense dome of the Diwan-i-Khas, the Hall of Private Audience. With not a single woman among them all. Not even the musicians were exempt from the desert’s law.

Women must stay at home, with the family. Where they can be protected. Thought Liam, trying not to sneer.

Kheresh was a different culture, and one he did not relish. The dome, encrusted with mosaics of blue lapis lazuli and red carnelian, shimmered like the night sky, casting an ethereal glow upon the assembled dignitaries. Mana filled the gems, a reserve of power for the Duke to call upon in times of war or famine or pestilence. Liam closed his eyes, walking by the light of mana particles. They covered every surface, every person, and filled the ceiling. Yet, the power was nothing, Calypso alone possessed ten times the mana represented here. Liam tried not to scoff at the display, this wouldn’t be a suitable reserve for a college, let alone a Dukedom! No wonder it hadn’t protected Kheresh from any of the cataclysms,it was a ruby herring, a distraction to point at when the wolves were already inside the kitchen. Rich tapestries hung from the walls, depicting Taloc’s scorching conquest of Hades, when he broke the evil’s god’s spine over the floating island that burned Kheresh dry. While the floor was covered in carpets so intricate that each thread seemed to tell a story of its own, just the act of standing on them was making Liam uncomfortable. But lives depended on his message, deliver it well, and thousands could be spared, fail, and Kheresh would witness a third apocalypse.

Ahead of him, on a raised dais, sat Duke Aliyar Kheresh, a man of middle years with a beard as black as the wings of a raven and eyes that shone with the cunning of a thousand jackals, nestled deeply within his skull, giving him the appearance of always squinting. His robes were of silk, woven with threads of gold, and upon his head rested a turban of deepest indigo, crowned with a single emerald that glowed like a shard of stardust. He reclined against his cushions, one hand idly stroking the hilt of his scimitar –careful to never grasp it– the other holding a crystal goblet of wine that sparkled like liquid rubies.

Liam closed his peeping portal, he’d become extremely talented with them and could now summon them like a periscope, tethering one end near his eye so he could walk and observe at once.

The court was alive with the murmur of conversation, the rustle of silks, and the clinking of jewelry, yet all fell silent as Kharmite warriors moved, the great doors of the Diwan-i-Khas were thrown open. Into the chamber strode five figures, their arrival unheralded, their presence an anomaly that drew every eye.

At the forefront was Lord Tufan Biliam Alhusam, a toddler of confusing stature, his form clad in masterfully woven silks and sabertoothed serval hides. Yet his face was stern, as if the toddler had somehow weathered years of battle and hardship, an impossibility that silenced the court. A white viper coiled around his chest and shoulders, directing its golden pits forward, towards the duke. In fact, both toddler and serpent seemed to have a singular gaze, both focused like a thousand lasers on the object of their eye. At his side stood a felinid woman, ears poking out of a yellow veil and covered from head to paw with yellow threads. Behind them followed three Paladins, each a paragon of their respective affinities, light for Thaddeus, fire for Velena, and earth for Owen. Their armor as unyielding as their loyalty to Taloc.

The fifth member of their company drew the most attention—a figure both familiar and strange to the court. Slaves were not allowed within the Duke’s court, yet here was Maya, the slave mage. But no one dared to question her presence, at least, not out loud. For a Lightning Lord had brought her.

Still, she could feel their disapproving gazes from beneath the veil, ears twitching nervously at every sound, made conspicuous by the toddler’s unnatural stoicism. Yet, there was an unmistakable grace to her movements, a lithe fluidity that spoke of her feline heritage. For Maya was a creature of legend –a catgirl– with ears like velvet triangles perched atop her head and a tail that flicked behind her. Her eyes, slitted and gleaming with an inner light, swept the room with a gaze that was at once curious and cautious.

Without waiting to be announced the toddler led the way, holding Maya’s hand like she was his mother, fingers wrapped around her index. Liam hated courts, all the pointless ceremonies and formal greetings, it was a waste of time. But they had a mission. The sooner he met the Duke then the sooner he could be done, off to perform more important tasks, like the instant fortress idea he was working on.

In moments the five stood before the Duke's dais, their presence a silent challenge to the authority of the court. A number of viziers exchanged uneasy glances, while the watch captains gripped their scabbards a little tighter, unsure why noble paladins would breach etiquette so flippantly, while several poets began taking notes, sensing that they were on the cusp of witnessing their next fable.

The Duke’s voice, rich and resonant, broke the silence. “Normally I would have such rudeness answered in kind,” Said Duke Kheresh, rising from his throne, “But I’ve heard of Lightning Lord Liam’s announcement in King Aldric’s court, and am fond of my windows. Prophet of Therun Perun Taloc, thank you for gracing me with your presence.” He finished, bowing at the waist.

He lowered himself so far that Liam winced, wondering if his indigo turban would pop off and roll down the dias.

But this was court, and Lord Tufan stepped forward, his voice a high pitched squeak compared to the Duke’s baritone, “Duke Kheresh, I am loath to treat with the ruler who slew my mother, but one tragedy does not deserve a hundred thousand more. I am not here for gifts, or for recognition. I come as the bearer of necessity. My mother Sirin, named me Tufan Biliam Alhusam, the Sword of Taloc’s Change, and these paladins have recognized me. We come with demands that must be heeded, for the fate of your lands hangs on your whim.”

A murmur ran through the court, ducal guards pressed closer to the interlopers while a few ran for reinforcements, bringing a trickle of warriors into the room that grew with the conversation’s duration. Duke Kheresh silenced it with a wave of his hand.

“Demands, you say? Speak, then, and let us hear these demands that would trouble a Lightning Lord’s mind and bring you to my home so abruptly.”

Liam inclined his head slightly, a gesture of respect that was mirrored by the paladins and signaled Maya’s own curtsey. “Firstly, you must free and deliver all slaves within Kheresh to the fulminonimbus, in accordance with Taloc’s decree in King Aldric’s court.”

Grumbles began the instant ‘King Aldric’s’ name was mentioned, as if the Duchy was on the verge of rebellion against their liegelord. Duke Kheresh’s face darkened, and his unreadable eyes seemed to focus like twin telescopes. Hooded by his brow.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

“We have already complied with that decree. It is the church who drags their feet and does not send the necessary wagons or manpower to see the slaves off. Nor do they comply with his demand for… medical treatments.” Said Kheresh, fully meaning sterilizations. “My army has returned, and we can hasten the transport of slaves. Farad, Tariq, make it so.”

“As you wish m’lord.” Said two watch captains, bowing as they acknowledged the order.

Liam nodded, “Skip the extraneous medical treatments, Greenwood is far more advanced in healing, any treatments may be processed there.”

Duke Kheresh’s eyes never blinked, appraising the toddler who was simultaneously the most lethal being he’d ever met, and the least mature. He half expected Liam’s face to contort and a turd to drop out of his pants. Though he couldn’t guess if the turd would be made of gold, shit, or lightning.

“Lord Alhusam, you confound me. I must know, whose will does that order belong to? Is freeing slaves your wish? Or Taloc’s?” Asked the Duke, returning to his throne.

A sharp intake of breath from the assembled viziers and generals met these words. For one simply did not question a Lightning Lord and expect to live. But the Duke’s expression remained impassive, his cunning eyes relaxing after speaking.

“The order might come from the King, but he is only the messenger of Lightning Lord Liam and Lord Nyota Green, who both speak with Taloc’s blessing.” Said Liam, raising an eyebrow at the duke.

He’d seen the church’s ledgers and was well aware of the barriers and pitfalls they’d left behind, but with Thaddeus at his beck and call, Liam had simply forged documents to expedite the cooperation of most diocese, and the dissenters could be dealt with on his way to Greenwood. Now the limiting factor was the Duke’s treasury.

“Expect no more resistance from the Holy Fulminonimbus, expect them to redouble their cooperation.” Said Liam.

The Duke nodded. “Haha, we are prepared for them to thrupple their cooperation, ha, if you were anyone other than a Lightning Lord, I wouldn’t believe you… What else does thine heart desire?” Asked Duke, his tone inscrutable.

“The second demand,” Liam continued, his voice unwavering, “is that you make peace with the gorgons–”

–gasps filled the court, forcing Liam to pause for several seconds as nobles, merchants, and soldiers mentally recoiled.--

“–I see you are familiar with them.” Finished Liam.

Kheresh covered his face with a hand. “Indeed, we were just discussing their intelligence. Many of my Kharmites fought alongside the Sintrans. We had sent a thousand men to retake a thorp called Kesky.” Kheresh clenched his hand into a fist. “They never made it. Not after two years of fighting could a thousand men retake a thorp! Bah, we’d all be dead without the Sintran gorgons to fight in the vanguard; and I return home to find my magistrate executing them. Fully aware of their humanity.” Growled Kheresh.

“I’m glad you understand their prowess. But Duke, you must make peace with the gorgons here. They are human after all, and factions exist within their race. I implore you, sacrifice anything to make peace with Calypso, not a single man or woman is to raise arms against the gorgons, unless you wish to forfeit the entire Duchy.” Said Liam.

Duke’s lips curled into a faint smile, though there was no warmth in it. “You speak of peace, yet you yourself slew more than two scores of men. Faithful men who did not deserve any fate other than happiness with their wives and children. What do you know of negotiating peace? Of the sins those snakes have burdened us with? Lord or not, your demands stretch the possible. Farms will lay untilled after freeing the slaves. Homes will never be built, and good humans will die of exposure.” Snapped Duke Kheresh, not budging an inch.

Before Tufan could respond, Maya stepped forward, her movements silent, her gaze unwavering as she addressed the Duke’s left shoulder. “I thank you on behalf of all my people, great Duke. Lord Alhusam does not make this demand to burden you unfairly, but to save Kheresh. We’ve treated with Lady Calypso of the gorgons, and as marvelous as your palace is, she alone will rename Kheresh the ashlands. I beg of you, we do not come with malice in our hearts, but with mercy.”

Liam followed her gaze and noticed –silver haired Nyota– standing behind the Duke. She stepped forward, the motion catching her eyes. Liam froze, Nyota didn’t have crow’s feet around her eyes, nor were her eyes this odd shade of yellow. But the jaw structure, the outline of her ears, even the weight she carried in her shoulders was identical to his wife’s. Though her bust might be slightly larger…

Is that Nyota’s mom? Wow, does she know Nyota’s alive? Holy cat! Nyota would cough platinum furballs to see her mom again. I’m not leaving without her. Thought Liam.

He raised one finger towards the elder eclipsiarch, the court misunderstood the gesture and cringed away from him. With Captain Farad stepping in front of the duke and Tariq diving for cover. While the duke stared directly into Liam’s soul, never twitching from his throne.

Duke of steel balls is what they should call you. Thought Liam, activating his [mana domination] skill to rip the magical collar off of Nyota’s ancestor.

Nothing occurred. There was no mana in the collar, it was a ruse, a lie, a ducal deception.

Liam blinked, but the eclipsiarch tapped her collar with a nail, and… Winked at him? Then held one finger over her lips, conspiratorially asking him to keep silent.

She knows the collar is fake? Wait, the lycanthrope also had a fake collar… Why? Until a few years ago those collars would be high treason against the king, and since everything travels by word of mouth or letters, a year or two of delay is common. Manufacturing fake collars would land anyone, even the duke in hot water… I’ll have to dig into this… Thought Liam, pressing the eclipsiarch.

“An odd refusal. I take it that you intend to remain here in Kheresh even if it costs your life?” Said Liam, ignoring the entire court in favor of conversing with a single felinid.

She nodded once, then spoke softly, her whispers carried to Liam across the silent void. “I am old enough to remember green Kheresh, this was my home before, and it will be where my bones rest. To leave now, would be to throw away centuries of purpose… My lord, I don’t have the strength remaining to start a new life in a foreign land, do not ask this of me.”

Her voice was soft yet clear, carrying a hint of the wildness that was part of her nature. The court seemed to hold its breath, captivated by the unexpectedness of her presence and the boldness of addressing Liam directly. As if she were an invisible specter come to steal their children.

“What of your family?” Asked Liam.

Not-Nyota’s ears flicked towards the Duke, and then to Liam. He couldn’t guess what that meant, but knew it was something.

“My children are grown and accounted for, as are my grandchildren and great grandchildren. We’ve always lived long lives with great purpose to house Kheresh.” She said, referring to the position and not the man.

A life of purpose? What purpose was that? To be their concubine? A magical breeding sow?

Liam raised his hand to end the Duke’s lineage, forming his hand into a fingergun. Quetz went rigid, splaying his feathers and aiming his nostrils towards the sky, not directly up, but at an angle, as if he were tracking a satellite. Power tingled within the familiar, and Liam’s nostrils burned with the scent of ozone.

‘Let me guess, Taloc says no zip zapping the diddling duke.’

‘You and Taloc are more alike than you know. He says… Do not mistake a noble’s performance for the truth. Whatever that means.’ Said Quetz.

“I see,” Liam said aloud, unpointing his finger. “Duke Kheresh, apparently Taloc has work for you to perform.”

“Saved by one serpent, when another has come to kill me? Surely that is a first for the legends of Kheresh.” Said the Duke, glancing meaningfully at one of the nearby poets.

His action was large, exaggerated, as if to distract, but Liam saw with more than his eyes, and witnessed Not-Nyota vanish into the mirage of a wind mage. Just as Kinseeker had nearly four years prior.

“I’ll be expecting a visit from you, grandmother.” Whispered Liam.

‘Grandmother? Strangely rude when your lineage is so clearly elven and incompatible with my own.’ Said Not-Nyota, speaking on unseen currents.

Maya heard something as well, her ears flicking rapidly as the wind spoke, only for her head to bob in acknowledgement. Then she met the Duke’s onyx eyes, and gave him a charming smile. “Make peace with the gorgons, or Kheresh will fall and you’ll become their breeding stock.” Warned Maya, smiling toothily as she imagined how a gorgon would romance these desert warriors.