“You look terrible,” the Keeper said once he and the Sunlit Emperor were alone.

They had met in the Sunlit Emperor’s palace, and while Sunlit hadn’t directly shown himself—he had obscured himself behind a privacy screen so that his servants wouldn’t see how reduced he’d been—Keeper could still see him quite easily with his magic senses.

It took all the self-control that Sunlit possessed to restrain himself from ending their meeting right then and there as his anger spiked precipitously. The humiliations he’d endured during that battle were constantly on his mind thanks to the lingering pain, he didn’t need Keeper to remind him of them.

“That’s part of the reason why I summoned you here,” Sunlit spat through clenched teeth. “Leon Raime is stronger than either of us have given him credit for. The power, weapons, and allies he possesses are profound.”

“It was Leon Raime who did all this to you?” Keeper asked, his tone as flat as if he were inquiring about the weather.

“Don’t act like you didn’t know this before you even arrived,” Sunlit growled. “I’m in no mood for games!”

Keeper sighed. “Everyone dismissed my concerns about that boy; now you’re paying the price. Why did you even challenge him?”

“I demanded he remain in Occulara until I had resolved my disagreements with the way his personal affairs have infected Heaven’s Eye. He fled on a Sky Devil ark.” He paused a moment, letting that fact sink in for his eastern counterpart. He was somewhat gratified to see Keeper blink and cock his head slightly, about as much of a surprised reaction as he could expect, but when he instinctively tried to smugly smile at revealing knowledge that Keeper didn’t possess, the burns on his face were pulled and pain lanced through his mind. “I mobilized as much force as I could,” Sunlit continued, his voice now strained from the pain. “Despite this, and my personal involvement, Leon Raime was able to escape. My losses were extreme—four war arks, four ninth-tier mages, and severe injuries to my Imperial personage.”

Keeper took those losses in, sitting about as far back on the simple stone block he’d conjured to serve as his chair as he would ever allow himself. “You should’ve contacted me first,” he quietly said.

“There was no fucking time!” Sunlit raged. “The boy was escaping! I had to stop him there and then! I didn’t realize that he’d have so many tools at his disposal!”

As if he’d failed to hear Sunlit, Keeper continued, “We should assume that Leon Raime is done hiding himself from us and the Empires at large. That he’s now directly involved himself with the Sky Devils is cause for launching the greatest invasion of the Sky Devil’s Hell in a generation, despite the casualties we’d take. But that would assume Ilion and Evergold were on our side…”

“They’re fucking not,” Sunlit bitterly groused. “The Grand Cunt has married her granddaughter to that Sky Devil-loving vandal, and that old dementia-addled shitstain in the west will follow that rotten bitch anywhere.” He leaned forward despite not being visible and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I have some plans to take the Sword back. The island can once again serve us as a proper launching platform into the Sky Devil’s Hell.”

“You want my forces to join you?” Keeper asked, his tone suggesting he wasn’t in support of that notion and further fueling Sunlit’s ire.

But Sunlit kept his cool and replied, “No. My people will be enough. We can dig deep and find the grit we need to deal with this problem once and for all. But what I’ll need from you is to keep Ilion and Evergold off my nutsack. The last thing I need during this offensive will be those two rabid whores jumping upon my Empire while my back is turned. So watch them and keep them from doing anything inadvisable.”

“You would ask me to keep two fellow Empires off your back?” Keeper asked, again sounding unenthused, and Sunlit decided that he had to comment on it.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, old man? You sound as if you haven’t been spending the past twenty years demanding we kill this kid! You sound like you don’t want to do what’s necessary to end this threat for good!”

“Do not question my commitment, you arrogant child,” Keeper shot back, his killing intent spiking and causing the temperature in the room to drop so quickly that frost spread across the walls and the climate-control enchantments shattered.

Tasting that aura and instinctively knowing that, at least with the wounds Sunlit had sustained, Keeper was stronger than he was, Sunlit held his tongue.

“I will do as you ask,” Keeper said after a moment, during which he restrained his killing intent. “I will have my Keeper of the War Council make contact with your Lord of War. We’ll coordinate the proper response so that you can be freed up to retake the Sword. Once that has happened, the Sky Devil’s Hell will, hopefully, be vulnerable.”

“They will be,” Sunlit spat. “They’ve concentrated so much force upon that island that losing it and all its defenders will hollow out their defenses on the home front. After eighty-thousand years, we’ll finally end the threat they pose to our civilization, mark my words, Keeper. This will be the end, the final campaign in the south.”

Keeper stared at the privacy screen, his pupil-less eyes seeming to stare right into Sunlit’s despite it. Sunlit suppressed a shudder, and soon enough, Keeper departed. Their meeting was over and Sunlit could finally allow himself to relax.

Or at least, relax as much as his wounds would allow.

‘Black fire… Black lightning…’

Sunlit had contemplated asking the Keeper about both of these things, but in the end, had decided against it. He didn’t want Keeper anywhere near Leon Raime, especially not after the lack of enthusiasm he’d shown during this meeting. No matter what, Sunlit still wanted the secrets locked in Leon’s blood, and he couldn’t help but suspect that Keeper wouldn’t support that war goal.

‘No, better not to tip my hand just yet,’ Sunlit thought. ‘On the other hand, I’ll have to dig out some of those decrepit pieces of kit. Fuck keeping these things hidden, I need their capability!’

He suppressed the smile that threatened to stretch his burned cheeks as he contemplated the looks of horror that his military advisors would wear when he told them his plan for the Sword. Such old legacies of the Thunderbird that had been seized at such great cost by their ancestors were simply not used, to do so would be to reveal strategic capability to the other Empires. But with his body wracked with pain and refusing to heal, Sunlit would give his entire Empire and every soul within it to get himself what he wanted.

He would take the Sword, and he would tear every secret that Leon Raime was hiding right out of him—literally, if he had to…

---

“… as you can see, we’ve not had any meaningful problems since your departure. The Tribes are ready and willing to undertake whatever task Your Majesty has in mind for us,” Iron-Striker said as he finished giving Leon the full update of all that had happened in his absence. Fortunately, he’d done so in a matter of minutes, though he’d backed his briefing up with plenty of documents that Leon looked through as best as he could.

“Good,” he said. The expansion of the bureaucracy was proceeding at a fine pace, but he’d only had a Royal title for a few months, so he was hardly expecting their work to have finished so quickly. For what was reasonable to expect, though, Leon found Iron-Striker’s work to have been conducted swiftly and honorably. “I noticed you left one thing out.”

Iron-Striker gave Leon a tight-lipped grin. “My opinion on the matter rests entirely on how ready our people are for such an endeavor.”

“And…? How ready are we?”

Iron-Striker’s grin widened a bit. “We’re ready for an offensive. Dealing with an entire Empire would be a stretch, but we’re ready for battle, should our King and our elders deem such a course of action warranted.”

Leon sighed lightly. “What are your personal thoughts? The Elder Council meets in less than an hour, I want to know what you think before we enter that hall.”

Iron-Striker’s grin faded. “I’m trying to stay professional and detached,” he quietly said, his tone measured and carefully controlled. “The loss of Exallos cuts deeply. We were never close, he and I, but I respected him. He was one of the older members of this generation, one who’d fought for and served his Tribe, and the Ten Tribes as a whole, for longer than just about everyone else. His was a voice of honor and reason; he will be terribly missed.”

Leon stoically nodded, keeping his own feelings close to his chest as well, even though he agreed with the former Thunderer’s words.

A short silence followed before Leon decided to broach the next topic, one that would have arguably as much, if not more, impact on the Ten Tribes than the decision about sending the army to fight the Sunlit Empire in their own land.

“I have some appointments in mind,” Leon said. “Many positions that have only been provisionally filled need permanent staffing, and I would have your opinion on these matters, too.”

“Then you will have it,” Iron-Striker replied.

“I would create a council overseeing the central army, and have the Jaguar of the West appointed as its Marshal. The armed forces of the Ten Tribes will still report to me, but the Jaguar will head the council that will be actively commanding it, managing everything from the smallest tactical concern to the largest strategic consideration.”

“A wise choice—few are as experienced in commanding armies and fleets as the Jaguar, and of those that do, his strategic mind is one of the keenest. The only name I would nominate in opposition would be Solomon’s.”

“Solomon I would put on the council as well, to serve alongside the Jaguar. Either that or leave him with the eastern command, but that will be subordinated to this new council.”

Iron-Striker nodded, and together, he and Leon debated a few more names, including a couple mages without bloodlines from the central army.

“As for another important title,” Leon continued after he and Iron-Striker finished laying some groundwork for a military council, “I am in need of a competent Steward, someone to take charge of the Kingdom’s finances—or, more accurately, to manage the army of accountants that will be doing that. Exallos was the one I’d been thinking to put in that position, but Sunlit took him from us before I could make the offer. Have you any recommendations?” Leon already had a couple people in mind, but he wanted to hear Iron-Striker’s opinion before settling on one.

“Exallos would’ve been fantastic in such a role,” Iron-Striker replied. “The Eagles are renowned for their bureaucratic skills. In that respect, and since the role would’ve gone to Exallos, I would recommend the role stay with the Eagles. Either Ipatameni or Chrysi would do.”

“Of the two, which do you think is more skilled?”

“I’m hardly the one to ask about that, but if it’s just my opinion, I’d say Ipatameni is the cooler head. Chrysi would do better as her Tribe’s Lawspeaker, not the Kingdom’s Steward.”

Leon nodded, a smile on his face slowly spreading. “I have one more role in mind, at least for now. Someone to handle internal legal matters, as well as who can interface with the Tribes and the Elder Council. Someone who can offer me good advice about the internal situation and inter-Tribal politics. Someone who has, perhaps, been doing just that for the past couple of minutes…”

With a sly grin, Leon leaned a little closer while Iron-Striker quickly picked up what he put down.

“Are you suggesting me for that role?” he asked.

“I left you in charge of Kataigida while I was gone. In the past few days, I’ve not had anyone complain about your conduct. The records given to me in that time, including those not from you, have indicated that my trust has been rewarded with loyal service. So, allow me to—unofficially, for the moment—ask you: would you like to be my Chancellor?”

Iron-Striker didn’t immediately answer, to Leon’s dismay, but he leaned back in his seat and appeared to turn the offer over in his head a few times.

“I… I am unsure if I’m worthy,” he said. “I had many plans when I served as Thunderer. Most of those plans haven’t yet been implemented.”

“Then accept the position and implement at least some of them,” Leon replied.

Iron-Striker bitterly smiled. “It may be arrogant of me to ask this of a King, but could I have several days to think?”

Leon smiled reassuringly. “Several days are easy to give.”

A knock came at the door as Iron-Striker bowed his head in gratitude. When Iron-Striker rose to open the door, he was greeted by a messenger telling them that it was time for the Elder Council to assemble.

With a deep breath, Leon rose from his seat. It was time to make this official. It was time to go to war.

---

“… and that’s where we are,” Leon finished as he stood before the Elder Council. “We have signed truces with the Sacred Golden and Ilian Empires, so our journey was hardly in vain. But the losses we sustained were grave, and so I’m asking all of you if the Ten Tribes are willing to answer this attack? What ought we do with the Sunlit Empire?”

He glanced around the entire room, making eye contact with as many elders and Chiefs as he could. The entire Council hadn’t assembled, but easily about two-thirds of all the elders on the island were in the hall. The rest were either on the Sword leading the Tribal armies or in their Tribe’s lands seeing to their business. The same could be said for the present Clan Chiefs, as well. Even the Ax-Bringer looked saddened at the news of Exallos’ death.

In nearly every expression in the room, from the lowest page at the entrance or around the edge of the hall to the highest elder sitting close to the dais, he saw rage, sorrow, determination, or some combination of the three.

“What else is there to do?!” Chrysi declared. “We must answer in kind! This Sunlit Emperor must answer with blood! His blood!”

“War,” Tillan gravely intoned, “is a heavy thing and demands a heavy price. But for this outrage, the Rock-Mane Bison will go to war! This attack cannot be overlooked! Our King was attacked! One of our honored fellows in the Screaming Eagles was taken from us! A good friend to many in this room! War is the only answer we can give!”

Elders and Chiefs around the room stomped their feet in agreement, and the air in the hall became thick with killing intent. Leon looked to the leaders of the other Tribes—Nikolaos for the Jaguars; Solomon for the Tigers; Iron-Striker for the Bears; Singer-in-Caves for the Heart-Stabbing Hawks; Sar for the Ancestral Harts; Asger for the Ravens; Menander for the Lions; and the ninth-tier Philotheos of the Ji Spiders—and found them all in agreement.

“It’s about time we tested our strength against those across the sea!” Menander declared as he joined the others on his feet, his aura towering with anger and anticipation for battle. “If only it were under more agreeable circumstances! Exallos and those who died with him were strong, let us honor their strength with the blood of those who killed them!”

Again, the hall erupted in stomping and shouting, and Leon knew that it was about as universal as it could be. The Elder Council supported this measure. The war with the Sunlit Empire was official. Now, he’d just have to temper them a bit to ensure that it remained a war with only the Sunlit Empire.

‘Now’s… not that time, though,’ Leon thought as he smiled in gratitude at all the elders rising to shout their support for war.

With a raised hand, he called for order, though not before basking in the elders’ agreement for a few more seconds. Once everyone had calmed down, he said, “To help facilitate this war and the affairs of this Kingdom, I’ve decided to create some new positions. These shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise given the roles I handed out before leaving, but these nominations will be for permanent positions!”

He paused a moment, finding that the silence had, especially in light of the raucous calls for war just a few seconds before, turned deafening as all the elders and Chiefs leaned forward, hanging onto his words.

Leon grinned and began with the military appointments. Some of those nominated weren’t present as they were with the central army or on the Sword, but many were.

“Your Majesty!” the Jaguar shouted as his name was called to lead this council. “I will not fail you! By the winged grace, the Jaguar Tribe shall always be the claws and fangs of the Thunderbird Clan!”

Leon thanked him and kept going. Ipatameni was offered the position of Steward, and he accepted. A few more comparatively minor appointments were made, too, with all of the Tribes—including the most recalcitrant Bears and Spiders—being offered at least a few positions. Leon had been elected their King, and he was determined to invest them all in his government. That way, they’d be less tempted to undermine him or plot rebellion. After all, if they were invested in the Kingdom as well, then doing so would only undermine their own power.

He still had a few more official positions to hand out, not including that of Chancellor. His retainers needed to be rewarded. He wasn’t sure how to do so with all of his retainers, but he had a few ideas in mind already.

Gaius, for instance, was already acting as his secretary, so Leon wanted to formalize that arrangement, though with the addition of a whole team of adjutants and secretaries for him to be in charge of, along with a suitably lofty-sounding title.

Anshu, too, he had a position in mind for—he was going to ask the Ravens to make him another ark, an even stronger ark reinforced with the techniques and magics he’d imparted to them, and that Nestor, Valentina, and the other Heaven’s Eye researchers could share. Anshu, he was thinking, would be the captain of that ark. Arks weren’t exactly ships, but of all his retainers, only Anshu had experience in dealing with an entire crew.

The others he’d have to think more on, but those two he was already certain of. He just hoped he could get what needed organizing, organized, and what needed building, built, before the upcoming war started in earnest.

Or, he supposed, continued in earnest. Eighty-thousand years this war had been going on, and he’d already ended it with two Empires. And he hated leaving jobs only part-finished.