Chapter 1157: Silver-Blue Reaction I
The confluence of the river that emptied the Tyrant’s Lake and the Blue Feather River connecting Artorion, the King’s Ocean, and the Finger Lakes was a large junction. The Blue Feather River wasn’t small before, but once joined with the river from Tyrant’s Lake, it became truly massive. At its narrowest point after that confluence, the Blue Feather River was almost half a mile wide.
The land around the confluence was relatively flat to the east, while to the west were the foothills leading into the mountain range on the edge of the Storm Lands. With forces from Shatufan and Sentudon sailing south from the Finger Lakes and another force sailing southwest from Rolor’s Highcastle, Leon judged the plain to the east of this confluence to be the best staging area for those forces along the entire river.
Even if it wasn’t, then all three of these forces would have to pass through it to reach Artorion. The arks from Krizos were more flexible, able to fly where they pleased.
Since three of these four forces were stuck following their respective rivers, Leon, accompanied by only a few trusted individuals, set out from Artorion under the cover of darkness—literally, as Leon’s people used their armor’s in-built invisibility enchantments, while Leon used an invisibility ring he’d quickly forged while he worked out a design for a new armor set. Their destination was the foothills on the west side of the confluence.
Upon reaching the highest hill in the area, Leon led his group in making a quick landing. He didn’t give the order to lower their invisibility just yet, however, and chose instead to try something new. He called upon light magic and inscribed an ancient rune into the air. The rune itself meant ‘illusion’, but Leon focused hard on the idea of a dome of light surrounding his people, allowing no one to be seen within it.
Once he was sure the magic was up, he lowered his personal invisibility, trusting that the ships and arks on a course for Artorion weren’t able to see him. The rest of his party followed suit.
Alix, Alcander, Red, Anna, Gaius, Marcus, Anzu, Valeria, Maia, and Cassandra appeared beside him, and all of them stared north and eastward.
“How many, do you think?” Marcus whispered, looking strong if a little pale. Clear Day had healed him well, but he was still not quite up to one hundred percent. Leon thought he was up to the task at hand, however.
“For the force from Highcastle,” Valeria said, “there are likely less than a thousand warriors total in their four arks. Their ships, however, might have as many as ten thousand warriors.”
“I’d say less,” Cassandra stated.
“‘Fewer’,” Anzu corrected.
“Little fucker, come here,” the former Imperial Princess growled playfully, lunging at Anzu. The griffin-in-human-form nimbly dodged away, grinning like a madman.
“Similar naval force from Shatufan,” Valeria continued, ignoring Cassandra and Anzu’s antics. “Sentudon’s is likely half again as large, while their ark force is probably of a similar crew size. Krizos’ warriors number five thousand at the most, though since their force is only composed of arks, their force may be the most powerful of the four.”
Alcander nodded. “I’m not seeing many Lances on the river ships.”
“They have large hatches on the deck,” Alix pointed out. “Maybe the Lances are below deck and will be brought out when they’re to be used?”
“Seems overly complicated,” Alcander said grumpily. “It’s easier just to have their primary weapons on the deck.”
“Maybe,” Alix conceded. “Maybe those hatches are for something else.”
Her statement lingered in everyone’s mind. Indeed, Leon had noted that all of the river ships were long and wide, looking more like transport than warships. They moved slowly, barely faster than the rate of the river’s flow. At such a pace, it would take at least four days for Highcastle’s contingent to reach the northern Talon, let alone the more distant forces, assuming they didn’t stop to gather their forces. It would take perhaps half that for those same forces to reach the confluence, and perhaps another day or so for the other forces to meet them there.
As naught but wind and the buzzing of insects reached their ears since Alix’s statement, Gaius hesitantly said, “I suppose we all know what’s really going on here. But I think it should be asked anyway: do we know what these ships are moving for?”
“Death,” Red growled. “Humans don’t move in such numbers without hostility. They’re going to attack.”
“Is there no room for possible negotiation?” Gaius grimly asked.
Though Leon didn’t think Gaius was necessarily advocating for negotiation at this stage, the way he asked it made it clear that he was concerned it hadn’t even been considered.
“Negotiations were had earlier today,” Leon said before he glanced up at the moon-like Origin Spark. “Or yesterday at this hour. They issued ultimatums, which I refused. ‘Coincidentally,’ not even a day later, large apparently military forces are sent out from their home cities. What are we to make of this?”
“Death,” Red repeated, this time more viciously. She grinned wider than Anzu at the prospect of torching all of their enemies.
Leon agreed with the sentiment. He balefully glared at the approaching convoys, his patience for such actions spent on dealing with Terris. All he had left now was determination, and these four cities were throwing themselves right into that determination.
When they arrived at the confluence, they would be made to understand the depths of his anger and their own foolishness for provoking it. His hands balled into fists as he remembered being admonished by the Krizan envoy for his ‘unneighborly’ actions and attitude, and storm clouds began to gather above…
---
“I have a terrible feeling about this…” Touin grumbled. He spoke quietly enough that Loia, even strong as she was, had to strain a bit to hear him. The wind outside was howling around the ark, and their journey had gone from butter-smooth to choppy and turbulent as they drew closer to their agreed-upon staging ground.
Where the Tyrant’s Blood reached Southcourse, a camp would be established. From there, it would be the simplest thing to threaten the arrogant King’s ruined city and force him to leave.
“You always think too much,” the Duchess whispered as she reached over and grabbed her oldest and most loyal friend. She drank in the sight of him standing in front of the window, not a stitch of clothing on him. His muscles were hard and well-defined, but not swollen enough to be grotesque. There was just enough softness to him that her favorite part of the day was crawling into bed and wrapping herself around his body—preferably after sating her desires in as energetic a way as possible.
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He turned back to her, the meager light shining in from the projected window highlighting his sharp facial features and causing his dark blue eyes to glimmer enticingly in the dark. A flash of lightning outside added to the effect, but the clap of thunder that followed a moment later fiercely shook the ark.
Touin was an eighth-tier mage, and so had little trouble remaining standing, but a look of concern marred his handsome features. “This isn’t natural!”
“What even is natural?” she quipped, her confidence unshaken. “Come back to bed! I long for your warmth. Don’t make me order you.”
He pouted in just the way she liked before crawling back beneath the sheets. His perfect body was outlined by another flash of lightning, this one proving closer by a swifter thunderous boom.
As Touin slid back in beside her, he whispered, “The dog claims to be a descendant of the Thunderbird. We know that he wields lightning like a natural, can transform his body in some profane way, and has some measure of control over the weather. I don’t like flying into a storm under these conditions.”
“His strength is expended,” Loia insisted. “He’ll huddle behind his Stormwall like a slug within its shell. The best case for him is for us to never leave that valley and spend the rest of his days isolated from the rest of the universe.”
“Slugs don’t have shells,” Touin pointed out, and she pinched his just-soft-enough side, making him jump.
He gave a muted cry of frustration before exclaiming, “You should be taking this problem more seriously! That dog has four post-Apotheosis mages! What hope do we have against such power?”
“Four?” Loia asked skeptically. “I only ever saw one. No, I think that the other three that were with him are dead. Most of those who were with him at the start of that war have died at this point. If they were still around, he would’ve paraded them around when I deigned to visit his tiny palace. He did not do that. Thus, they must have set sail upon the Aesii some time ago.”
“You’re making assumptions. But even without those three, their King himself can do considerable damage to us.”
“When we meet up with our allies, he’ll be no threat to us, and will be easily dealt with should he be foolish enough to show his face. Now stop worrying your pretty little head about this and—”
The wall of the bedroom exploded, lightning and fire pouring through. The projected window winked out as the enchantments maintaining it were disrupted. Bits of shattered, red-hot metal rippled into the room, numbering in the thousands. Loia heard Touin scream in pain as her arm and leg, thrown over her lover, were ripped open by the shrapnel.
She jerked up and away, donning her armor in the blink of an eye. “Touin!” she screamed. “Get up!”
Her lover didn’t move, and the shrieking in the room only grew louder as the ark began to list and drop altitude. She looked closer and saw a chunk of metal as long as her arm embedded in the back of Touin’s skull.
She stared in horror, murmuring, “Touin…” She shook him with increasing strength, trying to get him to make any kind of noise.
The burning ark continued to dive, and she was barely the wiser until another of her adjutants barged in through the door—she hadn’t even heard the man frantically knocking. He screamed something, blood dripping from a bone-deep gash on his face.
“I’m not… Touin, get up!” Loia desperately shouted. Memories of him flashed through her mind. She was eight years old when they were first introduced, and he only six. She thought of the lake house they loved to visit every year, the first fish he’d ever caught and cooked, the boughs of the tree they climbed so often in their youth. She’d confessed to him under that tree’s canopy, and it was there that they’d first made love.
Hands grasped her shoulder and pulled her away from Touin, and she began screeching, “No! No! Touin! Wake up!” An insistent voice in her ear buzzed, barely audible over the screaming metal, crackling fire, and roaring gale.
The ark dreadfully shook as another lightning bolt ripped through its hull and superstructure. She was pulled away from Touin, strength leaving her limbs.
The door jammed, not enough power left in the ark. Her adjutant swore and dragged her to the burning hole in the hull. He did his best to quench those fires, but he was a lightning mage, and the fire didn’t bend to his will so easily. Still, he got them through the hole and leaped into the air. Loia felt like she left her heart behind as Touin was almost left behind.
She screamed in grief, her last coherent thought before losing sight of him prompting her to reach out with her magic and pull his body into her soul realm.
Through the air they plummeted as lightning fell around them, silver-blue in color. Amidst the wind howling in her ears, Loia thought she heard the crying of an eagle, each cry backed with power far beyond hers.
Beneath her, she felt waves of magic radiating off the burning hulks that had once been her fleet—or rather, the fleet her cousin had granted her to fulfill his ambitions. Several figures flitted about below as flashes of arcane light passed between them. A huge red wyvern flew overhead, bathing the already burning hulks in the river in more fire. It seemed the great beast was intent on incinerating any possible survivors that remained amongst the fleet.
The remaining three arks followed Loia’s, crashing hard as lightning tore through their hulls. One detonated so fiercely that it momentarily boiled much of the river around the battle.
Loia and her adjutant hit the ground, landing amidst mud and tall grass.
“My Lady!” the adjutant cried out. “Are you hurt?!”
What pain she felt had dulled in light of what was happening. They had been barely a few miles from their staging area and they hadn’t detected any movement from Artorion—not that they’d expected any, but they’d kept their vigilance.
That this was happening stunned her into speechlessness. She’d never taken a life despite her confidence in her skills. Fear killed that confidence and grief stilled her tongue.
“My Lady!” her adjutant insisted, but all she could focus on was the beating of feathered wings in the air. Every wingbeat was loud as thunder, easily reaching her ears through the rushing wind. She turned her gaze upward and saw Death given form—a bird thrice the height of the average man, feathers of the purest white, with golden beak and talons, and a crest of long blue feathers streaming back from its head. Its eyes were as golden as its beak, but they were narrow and wrathful, and when they landed upon her, she shivered as an ocean of killing intent slammed into her. Her stomach did somersaults and her legs lost all strength.
The last thing she saw before darkness took her were bolts of silver-blue lightning flashing amidst that bird’s feathers. Then heat, light, and sound. Her consciousness fled her as pain flared throughout her body. She went gladly into the darkness as she thought of Touin one last time…
---
“The bitch is alive!” Cassandra exclaimed as she and Leon stared at the charred body. “Barely, but there’s a heartbeat here!”
“And the other one?” Leon asked. His magic senses were telling him the other beside the Duchess was charred meat and bone and nothing more, but it didn’t hurt to confirm that.
“Dead,” Valeria whispered as she kicked the body a few times, the exposed bone turning to ash from the impact of her boot.
“Grab her, then,” Leon ordered. “We’ll heal her and see if she’s worth anything in ransom.”
With that decided upon, he glanced up at the river. He and his people had waited almost another whole day before the Highcastle contingent drew close to the confluence. Then his party fell upon them like a bolt from the blue. There had been little resistance despite the arks and ships being clearly filled with warriors and weapons, indicating Leon’s party took them by complete surprise.
There were a few survivors, and Leon ordered them rounded up. All were quite badly wounded, and given their small number, Leon had no problem allocating healing potions and spells for their use before they were taken captive. That the Duchess survived too was a surprise for him; he’d hit her with a significant portion of his power after striking her ark from the sky. It seemed her armor proved it wasn’t just for show, but depending on how the next few hours went, she might not survive the rest of the night.
He sighed as he took in the carnage. Thousands dead, ships burning on the river, four arks struck down and now little more than wreckage. Barely a hundred battered survivors rounded up on the riverbank, palpable terror in all of them.
A win, and cathartic enough, but with this action, most of Leon’s anger left him, leaving a profound sense of fatigue. He wanted all of this done.
He projected his magic senses northward and saw that Shatufan’s and Sentudon’s forces had already joined together and were pushing southward. He wasn’t sure if they were yet aware that Highcastle’s force had been obliterated, but it was close enough to the confluence that they’d learn of it soon.
The arks from Krizos, meanwhile, altered course to meet up with the other two forces, indicating they’d seen Leon’s actions, which also implied someone powerful was on board and sharing that information. Either way, Leon revised his expectations for Krizos’ arks up a bit.
This chapt𝓮r is updat𝒆d by ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom.
He hoped this would be enough of a show of force to get them to back down, but he wasn’t so optimistic as to think that would actually happen. So he and his people took their hostages back to the hill to wait for their remaining enemies to arrive.
His party only had a couple more days to wait at the rate the coalition forces were advancing down the river…