The Storm King

An age of resurgence. Of glory and regaining lost honor. An age of unity that their people had never, not even when they bowed to the Thunderbird, seen before.

Such were the words that the Thunderer always spoke of, words that Hector had needed to hear when he’d first met the man who would become the Thunderer years ago. They’d resonated with him in a way that words hadn’t since the days when he and the Jaguar had been young men, when their friendship had still been strong. Now, his friendship with the Jaguar was irrevocably dead, and Hector’s loyalties had shifted to the Thunderer.

There was a part of Hector that regretted how things had turned out between him and the Jaguar, but when he’d learned several months ago that the Jaguar Tribe was attempting to discretely canvass some of the other Tribes for support for something that sounded suspiciously like treason, any lingering good feelings Hector still had left for the Jaguar died. He already hated the spotted man, but treason against the Ten Tribes was a special crime that Hector simply couldn’t abide by.

‘He knows this,’ Hector had thought at the time. ‘All these years and nothing’s changed.’

Through calling in a few favors, Hector had learned that the Jaguar Tribe planned on bringing someone back from the mainland. Given the rumors of just who the Jaguar had encountered in Argos, Hector could guess who that person was. Someone who could not, under any circumstances, be brought to Kataigida. Even if he wasn’t an imposter, pretending to be the descendant of the Thunderbird who many in the Ten Tribes still venerated as much as their own Ancestors, Hector wouldn’t allow this person to the lands of the Ten Tribes. Eighty-thousand years they’d gone without a King, and they didn’t need one now, not when they were finally striking back against the Imperial barbarians, winning glory and reclaiming lost honor.

They didn’t need a King. What they needed was unity, what they needed was to leave their tribal social structure behind and become a true nation, a single nation of one people, not a nation of ten peoples that oftentimes only begrudgingly worked together. If they were to ever truly thrive, then the Tribes had to go.

The Thunderer never said that in so many words, but Hector believed that such was his intention—he wouldn’t have been strengthening the central government if that wasn’t the case.

Hector had gone to the Thunderer with the news that the Jaguars were bringing the so-called descendent of the Thunderbird to Kataigida, but the Thunderer hadn’t readily responded. Hector had pressed the issue, insisting that they kill this pretender off before he even touched their shores. The Thunderer had refused such ‘drastic action’, claiming that their people wouldn’t take kindly to violence at someone even rumored to be the descendent of their long-lost god.

‘Yet another reason we must abandon the old ways,’ Hector had thought at the time. ‘Such superstition can only hold us back. The Thunderbird is dead and gone, its Clan likewise. We ought to celebrate, but instead of focusing on the future, our people wish for the chains to be put back, to return to the time when they were slaves to the very creature they venerate.’

When Hector gave voice to his thoughts, the Thunderer had merely smiled and had him dismissed.

The descendent of the Thunderbird would be dealt with in his own way, the Thunderer had said. Hector didn’t need to do anything.

But Hector didn’t agree. He’d invoked his rank as the Thunderer’s aide to put Jace down in Raimondas on alert and begun making discrete inquiries of his own, attempting to get some people inside the Jaguar Tribe’s tribal council to tell him precisely what was going on, and how the other Tribes were taking the news.

He wasn’t much of a diplomat and his attempts to liaise with the other Tribes didn’t go far, but Jace at least accepted his orders readily enough. Hector’s frustrations with their tribal ways only intensified in the weeks since. When Jace used his vox bats to send word back to Stormhollow of what had happened in Raimondas, however, those frustrations turned to rage and hatred, not burning quite as intensely as what he held for the Jaguar, but still lighting a spectacular fire within Hector. He’d marched straight to the Thunderer’s office after hearing Jace’s report in the eighth-tier man’s own words.

Bursting in despite the Thunderer’s secretaries desperately trying to keep him out, he found the Thunderer huddled over a table with Linda, the High Inquisitor, a map of Kataigida spread out before them. The most prominent feature of the map was a detailed depiction of the territories of all Ten Tribes.

“Hector,” the Thunderer warmly said despite Hector’s rude entrance. “It’s good you’re here, Linda and I were just discussing a matter of great importance.” The Thunderer then dismissed his secretary and waved Hector further into his office.

“Lord Thunder,” Hector said as he joined the other two around the table. After making sure that the door was closed and the office’s privacy wards had been raised, Hector said with no small amount of contained wrath, “Are you two aware of what happened in Raimondas today?”

“There was an unfortunate commotion caused by a newcomer,” Linda drily stated.

“You can fucking say that,” Hector growled. “Someone we ought to deal with. We can’t allow such disturbances to find dry kindling in our lands, lest they start fires that we can’t control.”

“Are you proposing some kind of direct action?” the Thunderer calmly asked, his almost placid demeanor annoying Hector quite a bit.

“What else?!” Hector loudly said. “The Jaguars have been making noise for years about the necessary reforms that we’ve made! And now, after Lord Jaguar’s criminally light sacking of Argos, he conveniently found a descendent of the Thunderbird itself! And now he’s brought that man here! This is a threat that could destroy everything we’ve worked so hard to accomplish!”

“And what would you have us do about it?” the Thunderer asked. He gestured to the map. “The Jaguar Tribe is made up of devoted traditionalists, they wouldn’t take kindly to us killing even a purported member of the old ruling Clan.” The Thunderer raised a hand as Hector made to interrupt, silencing the Tiger tribesman. “There are other traditionalist Tribes that we would lose support amongst if we were to act too rashly. The Ancestral Harts, the Lions, and the Ravens-of-the-Hail-Hall will all want to see this boy, and if he were to die under mysterious circumstances before then, we would lose them for sure. Even the Heart-Stabbing Hawks and Rock Mane Bisons would look at such actions unkindly.”

“So you mean for us to do nothing about this?” Hector spat. “Leave this cancer to grow untreated?”

“I will not have us run off with claws still half-retracted,” the Thunderer growled, his tone lowering so much that it seemed to rumble from the depths of the earth itself, and for a moment, he allowed his tenth-tier aura to leak out, causing even the ninth-tier Hector to get a bit weak in the knees. “We have to discuss our strategy for dealing with this boy, we will not leave the Jaguars to do as they please without response. But I long ago forbade violence against our own, and I stand by that decree. So calm down.”

Hector took a few deep breaths, and though he still didn’t agree with the Thunderer, he at least didn’t press the issue further for the time being.

“Now,” the Thunderer said as he turned back to Linda, “where were we?”

“Our support among the Jaguars is low,” Linda explained. “Very few of the Tribe’s constituent Clans are amenable to our cause. They’ve always been territorial and solitary, the most recalcitrant of the Tribes. They won’t give up their tribal identity for any reason, and now that they found a ‘Prince of the blood’, as they’ve quietly claimed to other Tribes, they will entrench themselves even further in the old traditions.”

“Fools,” Hector snarled. “So busy living in the past that they’ve neglected to prepare for the future. The Thunderbirds are long dead, and even if the boy they’ve found is who they say he is, so fucking what? It’s been eighty-thousand years since the Thunderbirds ruled over us, they don’t get to just come back like nothing’s changed.”

“Indeed,” the Thunderer whispered, though his tone was quiet and pensive.

Hector waited a long moment, but when the Thunderer didn’t give voice to his thoughts, he asked, “Is that it? We’re going to just let this boy build up support and do nothing?”

“No one’s said that,” Linda rebuked. “We but—”

“I will go and meet him,” the Thunderer said, stunning them both into silence. “This boy could be useful for our purposes, and greatly detrimental if left to his own devices. So I will visit the Jaguars and assess the one they would elevate to a throne that has laid vacant for eighty-thousand years.”

“The Jaguars would sooner kill you than work with you,” Hector said through clenched teeth. He instinctively went to rub his left arm but didn’t want to seem weak by drawing attention to an old humiliation, so he covered up the motion by crossing his arms.

“The Jaguars did great damage to the Empires at Argos,” the Thunderer countered. “They care deeply about our people. We can work with that.”

“Still a shit idea,” Hector said. “I will go with you, the Jaguars won’t miss this opportunity to strike against us.”

“No. They will not touch me, and you would only enflame tensions where I mean to cool them. You will stay here.”

Hector stared at the Thunderer in disbelief as Linda said, “I will have some reports on the few Jaguar Clans that might prove amenable to our cause written up.”

“Thank you,” the Thunderer said. “I’ll head over there in a couple weeks. Now, we need to get some appropriations taken care of to ensure our hold on the Sword remains secure…”

---

The lands of the Jaguar Tribe were the rural ideal in Leon’s eyes. Expansive plains in the southwest of Kataigida filled with golden wheat and gently rolling hills. Rivers from the southern mountains running north ensured a ready supply of water without the need for much magical infrastructure. Filling these plains and along these rivers were many small villages, quite rustic in appearance though magically advanced if what Leon could sense from them was any indication. Large herds of livestock roamed the plains between farms, orchards, and vineyards, completing the look of the agrarian paradise.

“This is a beautiful land,” Leon said to his traveling companions. “Not quite enough forest for me, but beautiful nonetheless.”

“It’s not perfect without trees to get lost in, isn’t that right?” Valeria whispered to him as she leaned against his shoulder and peered around him. They were riding in a horseless carriage, along with Maia and Yun. It was spacious enough for them within, but everyone else was riding in other carriages despite this extra room. The window next to Leon was open, letting in the warm sunlight and fresh air into the carriage.

Leon smiled as he propped his arm up on the window and rested his chin in his hand.

“We have rainforests further south,” Yun explained with the enthusiastic glee of a child showing off his toys. “They lie on the slopes and in the valleys of the mountains, and many of my tribesmen call those arboreal expanses home. Our Tribe is based down here in the plains, though, and in Raikos just ahead.”

Leon nodded. The golden wheat fields gave way to less cultivated fields of deep green grass miles ahead of them. It was in the center of one of these great green fields that the city of Raikos had been built—though, in truth, calling the place a ‘city’ was rather misleading, for it would barely classify itself as a village, let alone a full-blown city. Not many people lived there permanently, as far as Leon knew; the village only saw larger populations on occasion when the Jaguar Tribe’s Clan elders assembled in Raikos to discuss tribal business. Those meetings could take weeks or months, and the Clan delegations would live in sprawling estates in the village during those meetings.

As they approached, though, Leon could see quite a few people running around, with the largest concentration being a large group of relatively powerful mages in the courtyard surrounding the Tribal Totem in front of their gathering hall. In contrast to the Screaming Eagles with their three ninth-tier mages, the Jaguars had five including the Jaguar of the West himself. The Jaguar appeared to be the youngest of the five, but he stood in front of the entire assembly patiently waiting for Leon’s arrival.

But that assembly wasn’t all that awaited Leon’s group, for lining the main street leading up to the gathering hall were hundreds more Jaguar tribesmen cheering, laughing, and applauding the small caravan as they moved through.

Leon, embarrassed at the attention, nearly shut his window, but he caught himself before he could do something so foolish. Instead, he put on a small, dignified smile, and calmly waved at all those lining the roads. This acted like fuel for the spectators, and the cheering doubled in intensity.

Fortunately, he didn’t need to perform for long before the caravan arrived at the central courtyard and the gathering hall. Once there, Yun exited the caravan first, followed by Valeria, then Maia. Leon was last, exiting the caravan with as much dignity as he could muster. He stood tall and his aura, not quite spilling forth, was still vigorously billowing out from his body like a storm cloud. He was tempted to reach up into the sky and fill the air with clouds, rain, and lightning, but decided against it. He felt he was making impact enough as it was.

As he stood there, the rest of his retainers exiting their carriages, and with Maia and Valeria taking his arms, the assembled Jaguars all, to a man, took a knee. Even the Jaguar himself, dressed in rich yellow covered in black spots, knelt, and he called out, “Hail, Leon Raime! Rightful Lord of the Ten Tribes, Chief of the Thunderbird Clan, and rightful Storm King of the Nexus!”

The eldest-looking of the ninth-tier Jaguar elders then said, “We offer our hospitality and our fealty to our rightful liege! We, the Jaguar Tribe, are your claws and your fangs! With our bloody fangs, your enemies will tremble!”

Repeating the elder, the entire assembly then roared so loudly that their voices alone practically shook the ground, “YOUR ENEMIES SHALL TREMBLE!”

Leon controlled his expression carefully, ensuring that not a single emotion other than pleasant appreciation could be seen on his face anywhere. Recognizing the traditional words of the Jaguars, he spoke the words they were waiting to hear in return.

“I accept your fealty. By the winged grace, we will all succeed in our endeavors!”

The assembly practically erupted in cheers and raucous celebration, the veritable explosion rippling out from the courtyard until all of Raikos was roaring in delight. In not even a minute, Leon could see from the hill the village already breaking out the instruments and alcohol while many people were dancing in the street.

‘It seems I underestimated how enthusiastic the Jaguars were going to be,’ he thought to himself. ‘Let’s see if that enthusiasm holds after they get to know me.’

“Please rise,” Leon said, backing his voice up with his power so that it could be heard over the roaring village, and the tribal elders, still on a knee, rose to their feet. With the initial formality thusly dealt with, Leon walked over to the Jaguar, his people at his back and with Maia and Valeria still on at his side, and clasped wrists with the older ninth-tier mage. “Well met, Jaguar,” he said.

“And you, Raptor,” the Jaguar responded with a cheeky smile. “I heard there was some excitement in Raimondas.”

“Just a bit,” Leon replied with a grin of his own.

“Let us head inside then and discuss matters,” the Jaguar said. “We must swear our oaths to you, as well.”

“This ceremony wasn’t enough?”

“There is a process. This was but our Tribe’s oath, now our elders have to make their own declarations of support.”

Leon suppressed a scowl. “Very well. Lead on, then, and let’s get this done as quickly as we can.”

The Jaguar smiled and nodded and turned to head into the gathering hall. Few of the elders immediately followed him, however, most kept apace with Leon and his party. Leon didn’t head into the gathering hall either, choosing instead to walk at a slightly more leisurely pace and paused at the base of the Tribe’s totem pole. He took a moment to make a bit of a show laying his hand against the image of the Blood Thunder Jaguar itself, then casting his gaze up at the image of the Thunderbird and quietly nodding to her.

Only then did he venture into the gathering hall. The hall was largely identical to the Screaming Eagle’s hall, if a bit bigger and with much of the décor evoking the Blood Thunder Jaguar rather than the Screaming Eagle. The elders streamed in after him, and with many other powerful mages of the Jaguar Tribe filing in after them to line the walls and the more distant benches from the dais at the hall’s far end.

Leon and his party stood upon the dais with the Jaguar. The Jaguar himself then called the Tribe to order, though such a call was hardly needed since there was little conversation, all eyes largely turned in Leon’s direction.

“Before we begin,” the Jaguar initiated, “if any of us have our doubts about the course we are about to embark upon, let them be aired now.”

From what Leon knew, this was a formality; if there were many important doubts, then they would’ve been aired in private and taken care of before the ceremony began. And so, he was somewhat surprised when one of the ninth-tier elders stepped forward and said, “I do not protest the swearing of our Tribe to the last descendent of the Thunderbird and our rightful King, but I do have concerns to bring up with my fellow elders. I will not swear my own oath of allegiance until certain issues have been resolved.”

Leon fought a grimace, just barely maintaining his quiet, confident composure. ‘This is going to be a long day,’ he thought.