“Always remember: I love you two dearly.”

Those final words, spoken by Serana’s projection from the memory slate, rang in Leon’s ears. He’d listened to the slate’s message many times over the past century and a half, carving every word she said and expression she made into his skull. He’d shown the projection to no one else in all that time save for his family, but as he and his people were preparing to disembark from Storm Herald, he knew that it was time to change that.

So, he’d shown the memory slate to Clear Day. He wanted the tau to ask around for information about the Great Dragon Clans while they were on Belicenion. Most of the seven Clans, he was sure, were staying on their massive arks floating in the Void, but they might have some kind of presence on the plane itself. Even if they didn’t, then there were surely people who had more information about them, including how to contact them if he were so inclined, somewhere in Belicenion.

“Do you want to contact them?” Clear had asked as they hashed out the details.

No answer had come, not in the moment nor the hours since. It was an important question, one that he’d pondered for centuries by this point; the Great Black Dragon Clan was his kin, his family. It should’ve been easy to reach out, especially since he bore the Doomfire of his draconic Ancestor—and more, apparently. With the Ancestor Gem, he could’ve even summoned the Great Black Dragon himself to vouch for his identity.

Unfortunately, the Ancestor Gem remained in Artorion, and given that the Clan had imprisoned his mother, Leon was still skeptical about reaching out to the Dragon Clans. Serana’s father, Leon’s grandfather, was the Patriarch of the Great Black Dragon Clan, and since he was the one who imprisoned Serana, that meant that Leon couldn’t trust the Clan as a whole. He was the one keeping their family separated, not Leon, and certainly not Serana.

‘She’s probably not even here,’ he’d thought dejectedly as he turned Clear’s question over in his head. ‘The Clan is right there, but without Mother, what would their response to me be? Would they attack me for being a scion bearing their power but outside of their control? Or worse, would they attack Artorion?’

In the end, he hadn’t been able to give Clear a decisive answer. To reach that needed decisive answer, he ordered the tau to venture throughout Belicenion and find what answers he could. Given his temperament, he didn’t think that Clear would get into trouble, but he also emphasized that if anything were to happen, he prioritized Clear’s life over the information he was being sent to find, and to use a comm slate if he found trouble. He also ordered Clear not to transform where he could be seen, as he didn’t want any anti-Ascended Beast zealots stirring up trouble. Belicenion wasn’t Khosrow’s Fane, but Leon wanted no chances taken.

With Clear’s task set, Leon sought out his tempestuous guests, Archelaus and Ingrid, and found the latter quickly.

“Leon,” she said as she exited her quarters just as he approached with Daryun, Zhang, and several Tempest Knights at his back.

“Ingrid,” he replied, smiling as pleasantly as he could with his thoughts so disordered. “We’re preparing to dock and exit the ark. Have you seen Archelaus?”

“He’s in there,” she said with a nod towards the door of another guest compartment. “Basileus Ramin contacted him about something. Sounded serious. But while you’re here, I was hoping to speak with you.”

“How privately?” Leon asked with a glance at her door.

“Here is fine,” she replied. Without beating around the bush, she directly said, “I’ve located my arks. I don’t know if my husband is still there, but I’m planning on heading over to find out. And to get my damned arks back. If all goes well, I’ll be sleeping in one of my own beds tonight.”

“Here’s hoping all goes well.”

A sly smirk crossed Ingrid’s lips. “I was hoping you would come with me. As my second, you should be there should I need to make my challenge.”

“Have you found Mikaela-of-the-Dancing-Tree?”

“If I had, I’d be tempted to storm over there first and rip that cow’s tits off. But no, she gets to keep her oversized chest cushions for the time being. If Vrothgar is in any of my arks, though…”

She didn’t finish her sentence, but the flaring of her killing intent was conclusion enough.

Sighing through his nose, Leon responded, “I’ll do that, but—and this is likely a big ‘but’—there was another piece of business I wanted to handle quickly, and I needed Archelaus’ help for that. And maybe Gwarim’s.”

“What is it?” Ingrid asked, the vitriol and visceral hatred in her tone vanishing with seeming ease.

“Strategos Theron,” Leon said. “I had some business with him. And after that, Princess Miuna will likely want to take up my time.”

“Busy man,” Ingrid said, grinning mischievously. “This should be quick. I don’t think Vrothgar or his whore will stop me from retrieving my arks.”

Leon nodded, but just as he was about to say something more, Archelaus’ door opened, and he came out looking somewhat weary.

“Archelaus!” Leon called out. “Good news, I hope?”

He visibly stifled a groan as he responded, “I wish. There is no sign of Anax Drenthor, so Ramin is leaving his delegation for the Games under my purview while he leaves to visit his friend.”

Leon cocked an eyebrow as Archelaus fixed him in an apologetic gaze. “I… may need your help in this matter.”

“I’ll help with what I can,” Leon said.

Both Archelaus and Ingrid smiled, though the former was far more expressive about it.

“You’re a good man, Leon Raime,” Archelaus said. “To be more specific: as is obvious, I have none of my arks with me. I won’t be able to house Ramin’s teams.”

“Can’t you ask Illum?” Ingrid immediately asked. “He’s Ramin’s, too, isn’t he?”

“He is,” Archelaus said. “And I will be asking him. Leon, my friend, I’ll ask only to step in if Illum has no room. He didn’t exactly bring transports.”

“I’ll help where needed,” Leon said. “Is Jors-kil joining Ramin? How has he been doing these past few days?”

“Yes,” Archelaus confirmed. “He’s recovered well, but he’s eager to get home as soon as he can.”

“Understandable,” Leon said with a nod. “By the way, I’ll need some help arranging a meeting with Strategos Theron. I figure Gwarim’ll be amenable to arranging it, but I wanted to ask you, too.”

An awkward look passed over Archelaus’ face. “I… might not be of much help here. Theron… won’t forget that I didn’t join you and Gwarim in challenging his captors.”

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“You helped me, though!” Ingrid pointed out. “That has to count for something?”

“Theron’s not one to set down grudges easily…” Archelaus said, a hint of regret in his tone. “He may look at you and ask me, ‘Why her and not me?’ And I won’t have much of an answer for him. So… in the same spirit as your answer, Leon: I’ll do what I can, but Gwarim may be of more help here.”

Mild disappointment hit Leon, but he didn’t complain. He accepted Archelaus’ statement and led the two Despots to Storm Herald’s main atrium. He could feel the ark approaching its designated arkpad, and a host of guards in shining white armor, along with several magistrates dressed in white that was somehow brighter than the armor, already awaiting them, as they were at every other arkpad on the arkyard suspended over Belicenion by a thick, arching band of Lumenite.

The rest of the Storm and Ocean Lords that had joined the convoy were spread out over half a dozen other arkyards, so while other Storm Lords that Leon was acquainted with, like Strategos Realiz, Despots Illum and Nuertis, and Basileis Ramin and N’chezzar, were separated from him and his entourage, Gwarim was at least close by. Miuna’s jellyfish and the arks of her rather mistrustful friends were docked right next to Storm Herald

, too, which he didn’t for a moment think was a coincidence.

‘All right,’ he thought as his landing party assembled in the atrium, including his family, friends, and Miuna and her handmaidens, ‘let’s go see what Vrothgar has to say for himself…’

---

Few lights shone in the opulent chamber, but Serana could see more than well enough, regardless. She flexed her aura, black sparks dancing around her fingers, as the knocking at her door became insistent, yet she didn’t move a muscle from the projected window.

For so long, the only sights she’d been able to see were the Clan’s headquarters in Arushae, and even then, it had only been a few streets. She was grateful to see something new, even if she wasn’t allowed leave to explore at her leisure, not even under guard. An idea danced through her head almost in time with the thumping coming from her door, telling her to escape, to break out of War Cry and see herself to freedom. But she ignored it, knowing that on her father’s ark, there would be no escape.

Finally, her visitor lost patience and opened the door himself, revealing a familiar sight: her father, stern and stone-faced, his golden eyes bearing down on her with weighty judgment. Wrath, hot and dark, flared within her, overpowering any meekness that the sight of her father might have otherwise inspired. And yet, she kept her mouth shut and barely acknowledged his presence.

“My daughter,” he intoned, his voice practically shaking the chamber loose from the ark. “I wanted to speak.”

The urge to laugh or spit in his face was barely contained, and she decided to keep her back to him. She was tired of shouting, but she would never let her anger go unexpressed so long as he continued to keep her locked away.

“Speak,” she commanded imperiously, as if he were the servant and she a Queen.

Her father, at least when it came to family, didn’t have such an ego that he’d rage at this defiance and insubordination, but she sensed his eyes narrowing and reveled in her tiny victory.

“I have spoken with my brothers and sisters,” he said, and she knew that he was referring not to immediate relatives but rather to his counterparts in their brother Clans. “There are expectations. Of you. Of me.”

He paused and drew closer. When he spoke again, his tone had softened minutely, but the effect was lost when Serana knew that he had her former guards and handmaidens outside of her door, now acting as her jailors.

“Training. Sparring. Parties and banquets for our Clans. All of which you will be expected to attend. Jennifyr has also asked about you.”

The corners of Serana’s lips lifted slightly, defying her valiant attempt to keep them down. She couldn’t care less about most of what her father had said, but Jennifyr, only a few years her junior and Princess of the Great Blue Dragon Clan, was one of her closest friends at one time.

‘Will she still be?’ Serana wondered. ‘Another thing to blame you for, Father.’

The powerful Patriarch’s expression softened slightly again as he joined her by the window, and she had to force herself not to recoil. Though she’d recently ascended to the twelfth-tier, he was of the fifteenth-tier, and easily one of the strongest in that tier; simply being around him could be fatiguing if he wasn’t careful with his aura.

“There are others I want you to meet while you’re here,” he continued, his tone hesitant, which only set her on edge. Anything that could get her father to hesitate had to be a problem of cataclysmic proportions…

Pressing on, he explained, “Bennu-of-the-Flaming-Wind is here, as is his father. I want you to meet with them.”

A flash of anger and black fire erupted around her fist for a moment. “Still trying to sell my hand?” Serana bitingly asked, her golden eyes blazing with fury as she wheeled around to glare at her father. “It’s already taken!”

“My dear girl,” her father replied, “your… dalliance

with that planar fool is over. He is dead. Too much time has passed for any other possibility. For your own sake, I urge you to get over him.”

“No,” she defiantly whispered. “He’ll move whole planes to get to me! He’ll achieve Apotheosis and find me! And my son, too!”

“He’s probably dead, too,” her father said, though his tone had finally softened to something more conciliatory. “What hope can he have to reach us here? None. He lived and died on that backwater plane. That story of yours has come to an end. It is time you admitted this. Once you do, and once I have your word never to speak of this mistake of yours again, I will end your confinement. See reason, Little Flame, and end this rebellion of yours. Return to the Clan.”

Paralyzing wrath burned within her, but she didn’t know what to address first, so she remained silent. After a moment, however, her anger began to fade. It had been so long, and she knew that he was right on at least some level. She had faith in Artorias, but every day, intrusive thoughts chipped away more and more until she had to convince herself of what she had once known for certain.

“Prishgar of the World Turtles is here, too,” her father said.

“You would give me to a turtle?” she hissed.

“I will agree to whatever match you want,” he countered. “So long as you want a powerful and prestigious match, one that will win you a dependable ally and partner in life.”

She could barely contain herself at her father’s hypocrisy. He’d married for love, not for gain, and yet he expected her to sacrifice her heart to buy her future. The Clan was yet powerful, much too powerful for their enemies to truly challenge, so what need was there for her to make such a sacrifice?

“Har’ghost, heir of the Smoldering Eagle Clan, and Niret-Kai of the Wave-Riding Sea Lions should be considered, if you’re looking for a less conventional pick.”

“Artorias is all I want in a man,” Serana whispered, and her father went quiet.

The silence between them stretched uncomfortably, until he finally said, “… There is a large part of me that wants to let you go, Little Flame.”

She wasn’t sure that she heard him right, and when she turned to look at him, she found him looking back at her, his eyes seeming duller now from fatigue.

“I’m certain that they’re gone,” he continued, causing her heart to drop into her stomach. “If you hadn’t defied all convention and insisted on visiting the Divine Graveyard, I would allow you to go back and find their graves to receive your closure. Alas, I cannot sanction that. Not with you, my daughter. The only embers of love in my heart that still sputter are for you, and I will not risk you in that place.”

His eyes turned back to the window. Another large convoy had arrived during the past day, led by a beast that belonged to the daughter of the Ocean King—a brat from what Serana had heard, but a not insignificant one. Were she free, she might’ve even gone over to the ethereal invertebrate and challenged the girl to a duel.

He whispered, “Meet with Jennifyr. Speak with your friends. Be with your peers. Through them, see reason.”

“You’re just going to let me out?” she asked.

“Ryker will join you,” he replied, and she had to fight the urge to scoff. Though he’d closed the gap between their powers in the time she’d been incarcerated, her cousin still hadn’t earned back any of the respect that he’d lost when he took her from her family. “Keep a still tongue about matters that are private to this Clan. I’ll have you know that I have been urged to release you regardless of how these Games play out. If you behave, I might allow myself to be tempted.”

With that, he turned and left her, his words hanging in the air for long minutes as she stared at nothing in particular.

‘This… may be my chance…’

---

Ingrid’s flag ark was conventional by all standards—shaped roughly like a narrow arrowhead, it measured about a thousand feet stem to stern, half as long as Storm Herald. Still, Leon could see some very large weapon emplacements, and he could feel tremors in the air from some kind of defense system that he couldn’t immediately identify.

Under other circumstances, he would’ve all but begged Ingrid to poke around, even though he knew that she would refuse. Now, however, he didn’t say a word as he joined the woman in flying onto the ark’s flight deck, from which several small transports could come and go, and which presented the only way to enter and exit the ark since it lacked a main ramp.

Without hesitation, Ingrid flew directly into the small hangar and landed on the metal floor with a murderous expression and raging aura. Leon landed next to her with comparatively more poise and decorum.

Dozens of workers froze as her aura filled the room, and a dozen high-tier guards came sprinting out, their weapons drawn and armor donned, but froze upon seeing her.

“WHERE IS HE?!” she shouted. “WHERE IS VROTHGAR?!”