Leon walked into the Jaguars’ gathering hall like he owned the place, taking every step with the confidence and assertiveness that he would expect of any King he, himself, would follow. He kept his aura mostly restrained, but let enough magic radiate from himself that no one would struggle to sense his presence.
At the far end of the gathering hall, being seen to by several Jaguar elders, including one of the ninth-tier elders, were five mages, all dressed in black with cloaks trimmed in brown feathers. Their leader appeared to be old enough to be an elder, and his eighth-tier aura certainly backed up that assumption.
The Jaguars in the hall straightened up and began to bow before Leon said, “There’s no need for that.”
He put on an easy-going smile and stepped past the Hawk delegation and onto the dais, closely followed by Nikolaos, with the other elders accompanying the ninth-tier elder taking seats near the dais.
“Are you Leon Raime?” the eighth-tier Hawk asked, his posture somewhat guarded, a suspicious look on his face.
“That is my name,” Leon acknowledged. “And yours?”
“Rain-Dancer,” he responded.
“Well met,” Leon said. “I take it your people received the Jaguars’ message?”
“We did, and I and my comrades were sent to ascertain the truth.”
Leon didn’t move, but he called upon his power and a moment later several bolts of silver-blue lightning rippled across his body, the unmistakable power of the Thunderbird washing over the delegation. Rain-Dancer’s expression softened a hair, but the other four, all of them seventh-tier, reacted with a little more emotion, from looks of shock and amazement to fear.
“Have you need of anything else?” Leon asked. “Will your Tribe support my claim as your King?”
Rain-Dancer took a few deep breaths, Leon not pressing too hard for an answer with the man so clearly lost in thought. When he spoke, he did so with his voice carefully controlled and his expression just as carefully schooled.
“We must return to our Tribe,” Rain-Dancer said. “However, I would not expect the response to be entirely positive.”
The few Jaguar elders watching took on more serious and judgmental expressions, though they didn’t make any real noise to express that disapproval.
“Do you not remember your histories, Rain-Dancer?” Nikolaos harshly inquired. “The Thunderbirds are our rightful Lords.”
“The Ten Tribes have never had a King before,” Rain-Dancer retorted, not apparently intimidated at all. “We became the Ten Tribes after our last King died and his Clan crumbled. We flew to Kataigida through the winds of war, our wings broken, our feathers plucked, and we roosted to rest and heal. Now, we are beginning to realize our old strength, our old wounds aching, but no longer bleeding. We have retaken the Sword, sacked Argos, ruined the barbarians across the eastern strait.”
“The Strait of Keraunos,” Leon said. “That is its name, something that both you and the Imperials seem to agree on. Might as well use it.”
Rain-Dancer smiled bitterly but nodded. “Allow me to get to the point, then. We are resurgent, our power is expanding and returning to glory. What need have we of Kings, then? Why should we bow down to someone who just so happens to fly in out of the storm we’ve been in for the past eighty-thousand years—coincidentally just after a major victory? Even if he bears the lightning of the Most Venerable, why should that make him a good King? Why should that entitle him to rule over the Ten Tribes?”
“We stand upon the shoulders of our Ancestors,” Nikolaos argued. “It is through their labors that we have endured. Barely. Scraping by when once we sailed the Void like gods! It was the power of the Thunderbird that delivered us to such heights, and it was the loss of that stewardship that saw us so diminished. We now have the opportunity to honor our Ancestors and return ourselves to our rightful place, and follow our rightful King back to our ancient homes.”
Rain-Dancer sighed. “Such is tradition. We have hoped for such an event to occur for so long, it hardly even seems possible.” The man fixed Leon in a steely gaze, his eyes a dull yellow, a far cry from Leon’s vibrant gold or the Thunderbird’s much brighter yellow. “There are many in my Tribe who clamor to rejoin the Thunderbird as its wingmate, but there are many more who wish to tread our own path, free of Kings and masters.”
“Would you then support the Thunderer?” Leon asked.
“That is up for our tribal council to decide,” Rain-Dancer replied. “As for what they will decide, I cannot say.”
Leon’s smile thinned slightly and he stared Rain-Dancer down with as much intensity as he thought he could get away with without seeming hostile or overly rude. “Tell your tribal council that I will visit them shortly. If your people are concerned about me, then let them get to know me, and in doing so, realize for sure if I’m the sort of King they might want to follow.”
Rain-Dancer took a moment to think the proposition over, then nodded.
“And make it known,” Leon added, “that the Jaguars and the Screaming Eagles stand with me, as well.”
Rain-Dancer’s expression momentarily shifted to muted surprise. “The Jaguars were known, but the Screaming Eagles as well?”
“They acclaimed me as their King just a few hours ago,” Leon explained. “Their delegation, led by Exallos Aetos, remains in the city if you wish to confirm with them before you depart.”
“I will do that,” Rain-Dancer replied.
“Then, if there’s nothing more for us to say,” Leon said leadingly, to which Rain-Dancer shook his head, “let us be off. We both have much business to take care of, but expect me to visit your people within the next few weeks.”
Rain-Dancer smiled and lowered his head slightly, then led his people out of the gathering hall.
When the door closed behind them, the sound echoed throughout the largely empty hall, no one speaking while Leon stared at the door with a host of thoughts running through his head. He knew that he couldn’t simply come to Kataigida and be made King without pushback, and he’d expected quite a bit of pushback from the Thunderer and his followers. And yet, the quick acclamations of the Jaguars and the Screaming Eagles had given him some hope that he’d find more support amongst the other Tribes.
“Well,” he said slowly, keeping his tone light and unconcerned, “I suppose I have a journey to plan.”
“Once they see you, they’ll realize their mistake,” Nikolaos said. “All Ten Tribes venerate the Thunderbird as much as their own most honored Ancestors, if not more so. They will soon realize that they have no other choice than to support you, or be left behind.”
“Let’s not head too far down that line of thinking,” Leon said with a look of warning. “Firstly, I’d rather not make assumptions. Secondly, Rain-Dancer made good points. If I want people to follow me, then I can’t rely only on tradition and the reputation of my Ancestor. The Heart-Stabbing Hawks will follow me because I will go to them and show them that I would be a worthy King. If I fail in this endeavor, then I will not see them brought into the fold violently. Assuming they keep the peace as well, of course.”
“We have never fought amongst each other for long,” Nikolaos said. “Though, we have never had a proper descendent of the Thunderbird amongst us, either.”
“Then let’s hope your tradition of peace within the Ten Tribes holds out, even if no others do.”
Nikolaos hummed and nodded in agreement.
With nothing more to say, Leon left the gathering hall and returned to his guest house to update his retainers on the answer that the Hawks had given, and to inform them of their new travel plans while Nikolaos did the same with the Jaguars.
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For the next week, Leon remained in Raikos, meeting with various Jaguars and Eagles who arrived to pay their respects. He accepted quite a few personal vows of loyalty, for which he was always grateful, but he couldn’t help but notice that it was only the Jaguars and Eagles who arrived. While it had been decided that the Hawks and Eagles would be the two Tribes he would concentrate on recruiting first, messages had been sent to all of the Tribes as well announcing his presence, and yet, now a few weeks into his stay on Kataigida, not a single other Tribe had sent a delegation to meet with him.
He was tempted to feel somewhat insulted at this blatant snub, but he clamped down hard on those feelings.
‘The easy part is over,’ he’d told himself. ‘Now begins the hard part of building a proper Kingdom.’
The most interesting part of that week had been a strategy meeting with the Jaguars and a number of Screaming Eagle elders who’d made the trek to Raikos. After the Hawks’ disappointing, though not definitive, refusal and the Thunderer’s statement that he would bureaucratically and politically resist Leon’s attempt to unite the Ten Tribes under his own banner rather than the Thunderer’s, it was clear that the other Tribes weren’t simply going to fall in line, and so they needed a proper strategy going forward.
The Jaguars and Screaming Eagles were in Leon’s camp, now. The Heart-Stabbing Hawks, Ravens-of-Hail-Hall, Lions, Rock Mane Bisons, and Ancestral Harts were all undeclared. The Booming Brown Bears, Tigers, and Ji Spiders were all more than likely supporting the Thunderer. Given the Thunderer’s command over his army and the Inquisitors, he greatly outnumbered Leon’s potential military forces, even considering the Jaguars’ military prowess—yet another reason why Leon didn’t want to militarily challenge the Thunderer, alongside the fact that the man was tenth-tier.
As it was, despite their jointly-stated desire for peace, reports came in from the eastern Jaguar territory that a suspected military build-up had begun along their border with the Booming Brown Bears, the Tribe that the Thunderer hailed from. The Jaguars also shared a border with the Tigers in the east, and Leon was comforted with the knowledge that there weren’t similar reports coming from that border, but that the Bears seemed to be making some aggressive moves was greatly concerning.
Of equal concern was the apparent arrival of a large party of Bear and Spider elders in Stormhollow. Neither the Thunderer nor any of the Tribes had called for the Elder Council to meet, so having a larger number of potentially hostile Tribesmen in Stormhollow, which also bordered Jaguar territory to the north, had more than a few people in Raikos nervous.
While Leon had wanted to argue against it, he’d acquiesced to the Jaguar’s request to call up some of their reserves—most of their military forces already deployed to protect the western coast of Kataigida from Imperial attack.
That aside, it was agreed upon that Leon would first visit the Hawks and do his best to secure their southern flank by winning their loyalty. After that, he would concentrate on the undeclared Tribes, visiting each in turn by their physical proximity, starting with the Lions, then moving on to the Bisons, Harts, and Ravens.
If his luck held out, he’d have seven Tribes to the Thunderer’s three that way, though he doubted it would turn out so cleanly. Given the Bears’ actions so far, it seemed they were already getting ready for a fight, and he couldn’t imagine the Thunderer just sitting on his laurels while Leon went around courting the other Tribes.
No, Leon knew that he’d be courting them just the same as he was, in one way or another. To that end, Leon began learning what he could of each of the Tribes so that he may know what to expect from them.
The Hawks to the south were rather isolationist, rarely coming down from their mountains for any reason. They were also quite communal, greatly valuing the bonds among their flocks.
The Lions, generally speaking, were warriors first and foremost, with the largest Tribal army of all the Tribes. They were fiercely loyal to their prides, which mostly consisted of small family units.
The Bisons were generally peaceful but possessed great physical strength and endurance. They were the most productive farmers and herdsmen of the Ten Tribes.
All three of these Tribes had limited military potential on Kataigida since most of their fighting men and women were deployed to the Sword.
That left the Harts and Ravens.
The Harts were forest people, and though they weren’t particularly numerous, they were some of the most skilled craftsmen among the Tribes. If any Tribesman needed some luxury good or product, they would usually go to the Harts to make or acquire it.
If they wanted weapons, on the other hand, they would go to the Ravens. The Ravens-of-Hail-Hall weren’t particularly violent people, but they were extremely clever folk, with some of the best enchanters and arksmiths on the entire plane. They weren’t overly fond of war, but they certainly profited greatly from it.
Hearing of the Ravens had Leon already salivating to go and meet them.
As for the Tribes sworn to the Thunderer, the Ji Spiders, Tigers, and Booming Brown Bears were some of the more solitary Tribes, not forming prides or flocks or other kin groups. They were more individualistic and less friendly with the Tribes in the west.
The Spiders were particularly known as the best miners in the Ten Tribes, while the Bears were their best beastmasters. The Tigers, like the Lions and Jaguars, were known as great warriors, performing the same duty as the Jaguars only along the eastern coast rather than the western.
When all of that was said, Leon couldn’t help but wonder at what the Eagles’ specialty was, if any, and had it explained to him that the Eagles were the best merchants and explorers among the Tribes.
Once he’d gathered all the support he could, the Elder Council would be called and his claim would be officially put forward. If all went well, the Ten Tribes would acclaim him their King, and the other Tribes, seeing his support, would fall in as well. If they didn’t, then Leon would have to figure out a way to peacefully ensure that they didn’t threaten his future endeavors.
So, after that meeting was over, Leon found himself relaxing knowing what his next few steps would be. He’d have to return home at least once during that time to put in some face time at Heaven’s Eye and check in on his home and those retainers he’d left behind, as well as spend some time with Elise and Cassandra, but he still felt better with a plan in mind, even as undetailed as it was.
Before he could return to the guest house, however, he was approached by Nikolaos and a number of other elders with a request that he simply couldn’t refuse. As much as he hated ceremonies, there was one that had been moved up to take advantage of his presence that he wouldn’t miss for the world…
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Leon stood upon a large, raised platform in one of Raikos’ largest outlying fields. Spread around the stone platform were other stone platforms, but these were slightly sunk into the ground like shallow craters. They numbered more than a thousand, each one large enough for ten men to stand upon and not feel crowded.
But on this day, only five hundred or so had been occupied, and only by two people each, one old and the other young. The old mage upon the platform was either an elder, a Clan Chief, or some other relatively powerful older mage of the sixth-tier or higher. The young mage upon each platform was invariably first-tier or weaker, and none looked older than twenty years old.
Each of the young mages was stripped practically bare while the older mages painted various symbols upon their body in blood.
Leon clearly remembered his father had done the same in a similar ritual many years ago and enjoyed seeing the similarities and differences here.
Indeed, it was a mass-bloodline awakening ceremony that he would facilitate. Such ceremonies were held once a month, and only for those mages who had shown a willingness to train and dedicate themselves to magical training. The Jaguar Tribe counted millions of people among their members, but few of them, relatively speaking, ever had their bloodlines awakened—barely five thousand per year on average. That meant the Jaguars still had quite a few around given how much longer a mage would live than a mortal, but it was still less than a single percent of their total population.
They still had many more mages both weak and strong whose families had gone many generations without bloodline awakening, and so could advance normally without the ritual, but those who actually bore the power of the Blood-Thunder Jaguar would always be a relative minority in the Tribe.
It was easy for Leon to forget given how small Raikos was compared to the great national capitals he’d seen in his life, but the Jaguar Clan controlled several times the territory that the entire Bull Kingdom did, and had more people call it home.
The symbols painted upon the young mages appeared both practical and ceremonial. Some of them were light enchantments designed to provide some vigor and strengthen their bodies for the ordeal they were about to undergo, while other symbols seemed little more than ceremonial art to fill in the gaps between every enchantment.
Once every young mage had been suitably painted, Leon watched as one of the other ninth-tier elders gave a speech, and then fought to keep an embarrassed smile off his face as all of the young mages swore their loyalty to him as their King, amongst other oaths of loyalty and honor and duty to their families, Clans, and Tribe.
All of that complete, several large war beasts were brought to the platform and sacrificed, their bright red mana filling huge ritual bowls. The mana was then mixed with potent magical herbs and potions, and then each of the present elders on the platform blasted the concoctions with a single bolt of lightning each, Leon adding his own bolts to every ritual bowl. They didn’t do anything, but it was tradition, and he was more than happy to participate.
Then the ritual bowls went around to each of the young mages, who drank deeply before their bodies began convulsing. Their skin turned the same golden color as the Jaguar’s, and spots in varying numbers began appearing on their skin. All of them, however, fell into unconsciousness and were unable to appreciate the changes their bodies underwent.
Unfortunately, twenty-three of the young mages never woke up, dying as their blood awoke too fiercely or too weakly, killing them directly or failing to fight off the foreign magic that ravaged their bodies, acting as a catalyst to awaken their blood.
Those that survived, however, were marked when their bodies erupted in blood-red lightning scorched their platforms, and shot into the sky.
It was a spectacular display, and Leon couldn’t help but wonder if this was what his Clan had looked like in millennia past, and if it was what his Clan might look like in the future, long after he was gone.