Leon stepped back, letting Alix’s blade bite nothing but air, and in the next move, he darted back in, lunging forward with his training sword. Alix swiveled away, showing her grasp of House Raime’s fighting style by taking hits as infrequently as she could in favor of dodging or deflecting. In a further showcase of her skills, she fought hard not to be put on the defensive, smoothly moving from dodge to strike and back again when Leon responded in kind.

They danced about each other, their worlds shrinking to encompass nought but the other, their eyes tracking flashes as their blades caught the light. Compared to the others, their spar was at once both mesmerizing and boring—their dance was tight and skillful, but their blades rarely clashed, and since neither was using their lightning magic, they were hitting the space around their opponent more than anything else.

Anna and Daryun were sparring nearby, while Zhang and Anzu were having a deadly dance of their own. Of those two pairs, Zhang trained intensely, forcing Anzu to focus hard on the task instead of making banter. Anna and Daryun, on the other hand, were sparring hard, but their clashes were more circling and angling for an opening, clashing only rarely, in contrast to the other two pairs’ hard engagements. This gave them plenty of time to banter, though instead of mocking each other or insulting what the other valued, as Leon would expect of a normal battlefield, they were instead calmly chatting about equine management.

Had either one been clearly slacking, Leon might’ve been a bit peeved whenever he and Alix took short breaks, but he could tell they were giving it their all—their fighting styles just tended to be more defensive in nature than those he preferred. He tuned them in as he and Alix broke apart for a moment.

“… and I couldn’t hold him back!” Daryun said with an unabashed smile even as Anna sprang forward, her spear brandished. Daryun met it with his own spear, and after only three brutally quick strikes, they separated again, neither having won much. Continuing, Daryun said, “Scarlet Star just saw that white pegasas with the wings and charged!”

Anna chuckled even as she shifted her stance lower, Daryun almost mirroring her movements to keep his defense up.

“That happens a lot,” Anna responded. “I’ve found that there are fewer ways to drive a war horse wild than putting them in the same pen as a white pegasus.”

“Pegasus,” Daryun repeated the correct term. “I trained Scarlet Star myself; he usually has more self-control than what he showed, though…”

Anna laughed again, this time with such energy that she had to scramble to meet Daryun’s spear, as she’d almost dropped her guard. She barely managed to fend him off, and when they regained some distance, she explained, “The mare I sent in with him was in heat, so that might’ve had something to do with it.”

Leon smiled in amusement as he wondered just what Scarlet Star’s imminent foals were going to look like.

When he turned back to face Alix, she had a contemplative look on her face, and her weapon wasn’t at the ready. He might’ve normally punished such lax behavior with a quick slash at the arm, but he could tell when his former squire had something important on her mind.

“What’re you thinking?” he asked as he made a slower, more telegraphed stab than he was usually wont to.

Alix easily deflected, and though she tried to push him to the side by using his momentum, her stance wasn’t quite right for it, and Leon was able to push her back instead. He followed up with a harder strike, but not one so quick that she couldn’t respond.

“These Games,” she said. “They’ve got me thinking.”

She dodged his strike; he ducked below her riposte.

“What about?”

She dipped around his lunge; he almost dove to avoid a tackle and grapple.

“Lots of things. Has the potential to be a real clusterfuck.”

She dodged around a slash; he lifted a leg to avoid a crippling strike.

“Most of what I do has the potential to be a disaster. What’re you most concerned about?”

She paused, her frown keeping Leon from immediately taking the initiative.

“Given all the warnings we’ve received… about where we’re from and the power you bear from your Ancestors… I’m just nervous as several hells about getting into close encounters with a bunch of Khosrow meat riders.”

“I’ve been made to understand that not many people enforce much of Khosrow’s Law, especially the provisions against those with Inherited Bloodlines. And the Sun King enforces peace upon all who come to the Belicenian Games.”

“Do you really believe that?”

Leon grimaced. “Those who told it to me are trustworthy… but no. I get what you’re saying. Lots of people are going to be there, many quite hateable. Many are going to have problems with us for one reason or another. Such is the way of life, though, isn’t it?”

“I’d have figured you’d be more… bloodthirsty about this…”

A dangerous grin spread across Leon’s face. “We’ll have Storm Herald there as support. And the power of the Iron Needle. Whoever fucks with us is going to have a bad time, no matter who they are.”

Alix’s eyes narrowed, and her frown grew. “What if that someone is an Elemental King? What if Kamran takes an interest in you?”

Several long seconds passed before Leon was able to respond. “I’m putting a lot of trust in the precedent set by the Sun King. After that… hopefully we’ll have more friends. Either way, I don’t plan on just sitting around and letting anyone take what’s mine. If they want what we have, they’re going to have to deal fairly or fight hard.”

Alix remained unmoved. “It won’t just be us, though. It’ll be that spoiled Princess, too! She wants to show you off like a prized doll!”

“I can handle Miuna,” Leon confidently stated. “I’ve dealt with plenty of spoiled Princess types in my time.”

That finally drew a smile out of Alix. “True. Well, at least I can look forward to killin’ any poor bastards who attack this place after whatever happens on Belicenion! My kids live here; I’m gonna mama bear this shit like they won’t believe!”

Leon breathed out an amused snort. “A fine reason to defend this place, better than most.”

“How far do you think we’re going to get?” Alix asked, her demeanor shifting to something that was somehow both more and less serious. “In the Games, I mean.”

It was Leon’s turn to frown, and deep furrows were carved into his face by the expression. “It’s our first appearance,” he said. “I… We

don’t know what to expect. Others have been going to these Games for thousands of years. Hundreds of thousands of years. I have faith in our people, but… I’ll place no expectations upon them. Next time, however…” He flashed her a quick grin, which she returned.

“If we’re lucky, some races and gladiator fights are going to be the worst of our worries.”

Alix’s face fell. “Why did you have to say that?! Now the universe is going to force strife upon us! Ahhhh!” Her hands went to her head as if Leon had just inflicted a terrible headache upon her, and she nearly collapsed quite theatrically. The other sparring pairs paused to see what was going on, but Leon could tell that Alix was just being dramatic.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“The universe doesn’t care about us, unfortunately. Not enough to curse anyone, at any rate.” Leon’s smile turned cocky as he put his hands on his hips and posed in a mocking parody of a heroic stance. “I also double, triple, and quadruple down on what I just said. We’ll have no trouble at all. Nope! None!”

Alix went paler and paler with every word, her mock despair turning realer and realer apace, until Leon took pity on her and shut his mouth.

“Whatever comes,” he said more seriously, “we’ll handle it. We always have. No matter what these Games throw at us, we’ll be ready for them. And if we’re not… then we’ll just run the fuck away!”

He smiled and nodded confidently, bringing Alix somewhat out of her despair spiral. Her concerns, however, he knew were well placed. These Games were the largest event in the entire universe, and would be packed with Lords from all over. At least half of the movers and shakers in the Nexus were expected to attend, and in all likelihood, even more than that would be participating. Such a den of pride and power was unlikely to let the event go perfectly in his expectation. The only question remained just how badly things would go, and how that might stack against the benefits…

---

Space bent and twisted, seeming to scream to Anushirawan’s magic senses as magic forced it into unnatural shapes, impelling it to be something else, something in line with someone else’s design. A black sphere manifested, ringed in dark blue light, and from it emerged a monstrosity of terrible proportions, one that struck greater fear into the people of the Sun Lands than anything else possibly could.

A terrible ark, dark in color and monumental in scale, forced its way into existence. It bore the rough shape of a dragon’s head with fire billowing behind it, all made of black metal with jagged, nightmarish lines of red-orange glowing in ‘cracks’ on the surface. Each lick of ‘flame’, Anushirawan knew, was like a tower, with a large horn in the center of this twisted craft acting as the owner’s palace. In all, this ark was one of the largest in existence—one of the largest to ever exist, even including the monstrosities of the Primal Age—and certainly one of the most powerful.

It had to be, else he would’ve left the greeting to someone else. Anushirawan, the Sun King, as amiable as he liked to think he was, would not come out to greet just anyone. This Clan, in particular, was aloof and standoffish, and had never participated in his Games before. That they had now arrived spoke volumes of the power that the man standing beside Anushirawan held within the Dragon’s Confederation.

This man was tall and handsome, with smooth, boyish features. He was rather dark of skin, but he wore the whitest of robes, brighter and purer even than Anushirawan’s own, and around his eyes and extending to his temples, were spiraling patterns of tiny white scales. Upon his face, he wore the lightest of smiles, projecting nothing but complete serenity and control.

Many whispered in the dark of night, striving to be heard by none but their friends and confidants, that Anushirawan was only the Elemental King of Light because Prasinos, this man beside him, the Patriarch of the Great White Dragon Clan, didn’t want the position. While Anushirawan knew that the powers of the Great Dragons weren’t that simple despite their number and association with the magical elements, others did not, and Prasinos certainly had the power to back up their claims.

He was relaxed and restrained, easily standing beside an Elemental King without issue. They were both fifteenth-tier mages, of course, but Prasinos seemed to effortlessly dominate the scene, with more eyes turned toward him than Anushirawan.

Anushirawan couldn’t deny some resentment, but whatever he felt for Prasinos, it was nothing compared to the dread and terror he felt for the new arrivals.

Way Cry descended, alone, unescorted. Such an ark would’ve normally never been seen without fleets surrounding her, but now, she was joined in the Void close to one of Belicenion’s Void Fortresses only by the fleets loyal to Anushirawan. They swarmed around her like scavenger fish around a shark, but she didn’t slow in the slightest; she barreled forward as if daring any of the other arks to get in her way, the characteristic arrogance of dragons put on display for the hundreds of thousands watching the scene.

Tension on the largest receiving platform mounted as the hundreds of high-tier and post-Apotheosis mages—nearly all Lords in the Sun Lands by Khosrow’s Law—at his back prepared for conflict. But War Cry slowed as she drew near the colossal Void Fortress that glowed in the black like a star unto itself, magic and Lumenite illuminating all around it for thousands of miles. The ark came to a languid stop about three or four hundred feet from the receiving platform, and its vast bay doors opened on the slanted bottom of the ark, as if the throat of the dragon were opening.

From the bay spilled forth a hundred enormous black dragons, all post-Apotheosis, which many might mistake for children of the Great Black Dragon itself. Anushirawan knew better, however—these were lesser dragons, each with only a single pair of wings, and none even approaching the destructive potential of that Clan’s progenitor. Their power was still undeniable, however, as was made apparent as their combined auras spilled out into the Void, pushing nearby arks away and forcing all those at the twelfth-tier and below to their knees.

From the bay pulsed a deeper, wilder aura, one steeped in arrogant dismissiveness, slamming into the Void Fortress as uncaringly as the wind strikes a cliff or the ocean’s waves hammer the shoreline. A figure emerged from the darkness, tall and fair-skinned, the black scales around his eyes showing the depth and power of his bloodline.

Anushirawan sucked in a breath at the sight. The Patriarch of the Great Black Dragon Clan was even more aloof than the rest of his Clan, so rarely seen in public that the Sun King himself had only bare descriptions of him to go by. Now that he saw the powerful fifteenth-tier mage in person, a shiver ran down his spine.

The Patriarch’s aura pulsed again, but as the magic washed over the Void Fortress, Anushirawan let loose with his own. The darkness that spilled from War Cry was halted in its tracks, then pushed back from the Void Fortress, clearing the Void of the dragons’ tyranny. A smile of amusement was the Patriarch’s response as their auras crashed into each other with the weight of two mountains, and like two mountains, began to grind each other down.

The tension built even more as several hundred warriors of the Great Black Dragon Clan emerged from the dark hold, each a match for some of Anushirawan’s strongest subordinates. That the Great Black Dragon Clan had fought off the assault it had suffered centuries ago no longer surprised Anushirawan, even given those who’d perpetuated the attack. That Kamran had gotten so far was now, in his mind, the greater surprise.

The tyrannical aura of the dragons pressed down on the Void Fortress, and for a moment, Anushirawan worried that their arrival heralded ill intent; he worried that violence was about to break out on the doorstep of his favorite plane.

And then Prasinos took to the Void, his arms spread, a saintly smile gracing his handsome face.

“My brother!” he loudly stated, his clear, sonorous voice carrying far despite the emptiness of the Void and the density of the magic around them. “My brother!”

Like an enchantment had been suddenly deactivated, the magical pressure building around the Void Fortress abated, and the four hundred or so warriors of the Great Black Dragon Clan and a quarter as many black dragons around them were as magically weighty as common house mice. Prasinos, not caring at all about the warriors backing up his fellow dragon Patriarch, shot forward, and to Anushirawan’s surprise, the other Patriarch shot forward with a matching smile and embraced him in the Void between War Cry and the fortress.

Anushirawan could barely hear them speak, and when they did, they chose a tongue unfamiliar to him: guttural and harsh, it hit his eardrums with all the subtlety and music of a rusty nail. Still, the two were warm, brotherly, in their greeting, exchanging many words as their embrace continued.

When they parted, Prasinos turned to the two most prominent mages beside his fellow Patriarch: a rather young man whose looks took after the Great Black Dragon Patriarch—his nephew and most likely successor, if what Anushirawan had been led to believe was accurate—and a woman of magnificent beauty and radiant eleventh-tier aura. Her black hair was long and sleek, glittering in the light of the fortress like it was a curtain spun from the night sky itself. Her features were on the softer side, but her countenance was severe and lacked warmth.

That changed when Prasinos turned first to her and said, “Serana…” He spread his arms, and the woman’s features lit up in a moment until they rivaled the sun and stars themselves. She embraced Prasinos, and they spoke at relative length with great familiarity and geniality.

Prasinos said something chiding to the other Patriarch, but it was seemingly ignored as the other Clan’s leader instead glared down at Anushirawan and his reception party like a King surveying his domain. The attitude not only raised Anushirawan’s blood pressure, but it also set his teeth on edge. If this man wanted to, he could bathe Belicenion in blood, and it would take extreme measures to bring him to heel.

Not for the first time, Anushirawan was glad that Kamran had canceled several months ago. He wasn’t sure what he would do if the strongest candidate for the vacant title of Storm King met with the man he’d attacked not too long ago, and whose wife he’d slain.

Violence would break out, there was no doubt in his mind about that. Kamran took to Khosrow’s Law more seriously than almost anyone else, and while Anushirawan could understand why, he knew that the Great Dragon Clans were, for the moment, untouchable. He couldn’t say if Kamran would stand their presence, though. He might’ve, for the sake of the Games, as he’d done for thousands of years, but after seeing what he was capable of, Anushirawan now doubted his erstwhile ally.

Regardless, as the two dragon Patriarchs drifted downward to join him on the reception platform, Anushirawan plastered a friendly smile over his anxious frown and prepared himself to receive the biggest threat in his estimation that his Games would have to endure…