Cataclysm War | Chapter 85: Baron Cartellis (First Draft)

Monday, August 8, 4 S.E.

Following his orders to the Army and the Aegis of Avalon, Leonidas had moved swiftly. He’d met with Ceruviel and Uriel to debrief both Venerates on the reasons for his choice, including the cryptic warning from the Administrator he knew only as ‘Primus’, and both the Dusk-Lord and Dawn-Lord had finally agreed with his act of caution. Aylar had similarly been relieved by his actions, but had warned him not to overstay the lockdown, but had not denounced what he’d done. His wife, as ever, had chosen to trust him—though she had still made him promise to lift the order if the City remained safe for the intended week.

Sinalthria and the Adventurers’ Guild had responded favorably to his use of the Crown’s Mutual Defense Clause as well, though the Guild Mistress had paid him a visit to express in no uncertain terms that she wanted a Guild representative near him at all times for the duration of the lockdown. Unsurprisingly, she’d chosen Synthra, and Leonidas had accepted without argument. He’d wanted the Sorceress at his side regardless.

He had a feeling he’d need her.

The first surprise came three hours after his lockdown orders were being put into effect, when Leonidas was standing in discussion with Aylar, Malovan, Randul, and Ceruviel in the Throne Room, and going over the plans for the city’s defense with the Venerate Archon, who was informing them of the various rune matrices and spellforms woven into the walls surrounding the Thronehold.

“...cannot emphasize enough that we will need talented elementalists at the sally gates and main gates both,” Ceruviel was saying grimly. “When Uriel and I designed the city’s defenses, the notion was to maximize attrition. We can easily turn the Prosperity Quarter into a funnel even if the gates are breached, and with the Adventurers’ Guild in close proximity, it creates a natural rallying point for our forces.”

“We still have no idea what may or may not be coming,” Leonidas murmured. “Primus was not specific, intentionally, I think.”

He’d briefed the two Legion-Masters, at least, on his experience with the Administrator as it pertained to the threat, and both men had readily accepted it as more than grounds enough for his caution, repeating their support of his marshaling order.

“All that matters is that we are prepared,” Aylar said with a faint smile. “Caution is never unwise, husband. We simply need to ensure that—”

“{Your Majesties!}” a Herald called, snatching the trio’s attention as they turned toward the doors. “{Announcing Count Teryn Varius Cartellis, Lord of House Cartellis, and his son, Baron Cerion Teryn Cartellis, Heir-Apparent to House Cartellis!}”

Leonidas raised an eyebrow while Ceruviel sighed in irritation nearby, the Legion-Masters exchanged unreadable glances, and Aylar released a breath of faint frustration.

The Baron himself marched into the Throne Room a moment later, armored from head to toe, with his blade sheathed at his side as his father followed him, the same smile of permanent amusement on his features.

“{Archon-King!}” the Baron called intently. “{You have completed your Tempering! As if anyone could miss that storm over the Arena. I am here to demand satisfaction!}”

Leonidas’ gaze levelled onto the young—relatively speaking—Haelfar with suppressed annoyance at his intrusion, and stepped down from the throne, his hands clasped at the base of his spine. His eyes drifted to the older of the two, who bowed formally, and then back to the impetuous young Heir a moment later.

One is controlled, one is impetuous. Be careful here, Ace.

“Welcome to the Palace, Count Cartellis, Baron Cartellis,” Leonidas said in intentional English, allowing only a faint smile to touch his face, and not showing the irritation that lurked beneath. “I see you managed to wait a full night’s rest before pressing your claim, Baron. Thank you.”

“{I know the codices of honor, Archon-King,}” Cerion said while a vein throbbed at his temple, and his father continued to smile. “{I gave you the requisite time to recover, and more besides! I am owed for what you did to my sister!}”

Leonidas half-arched an eyebrow faintly at the younger Haelfar’s words, and his smile faintly widened.

“Your sister?” he asked with false mildness.

“{Yes! Cerynia!}” the Baron all but spat. “{You destroyed her Core, Archon-King! I will have justice for that slight!}”

Leonidas nodded slowly, idly eyeing the man in contemplation.

I can’t afford to deprive Dawnhaven of any fighting power right now. Hell, I’d restore Valerian if I could—Ceruviel was right, that was an impetuous choice.

“Then am I to understand you are here to contest what was done to your sister?” Leonidas questioned carefully.

“{Of course I am!}” the Baron said fiercely. “{You ruined her! She’ll never find a worthy husband, now, not without the ability to pass on her Alphas!}”

“You do understand, my lord Baron, that I acted using the Archon’s Mandate,” Leonidas clarified once more, while watching the man carefully. “Are you saying you wish to contest the Archon’s Mandate?”

Count Cartellis’ expression tightened at that, and he spoke quickly while stepping forward.

“{Your Majesty, my son is not—}”

“{YES!}” the Baron roared, pointing his finger at Leonidas. “{I contest it! I formally contest it!}”

Leonidas’ smile turned faintly amused at those words, and he turned to the Count, whose expression tightened at his son’s outbursts.

“Well, now,” Leonidas said into the silence that followed. “It seems you did not teach him everything, my lord Count.”

The older Cartellis looked from his son to Leonidas, and then stepped forward again. When he did, the Baron glanced at his father in a mix of confusion and annoyance, but didn’t interrupt him.

“{I would request, Your Majesty,}” the Count said diplomatically, “{that my son’s words not be taken in haste. They are spoken from an ignorant soul, bereaved over his sister’s—}”

“Oh come off it, Teryn,” Ceruviel cut in before the man could finish, calmly descending the dais. “Two Daggers of the Royal Guard, two Legion-Masters of the Royal Army, the Queen, the King, and a not-so-humble Duchess just heard him speak. You aren’t going to try to backpedal him out of it now, are you?”

Count Cartellis’ expression shifted into a faint grimace, and the Baron looked back to Ceruviel, who was now advancing down the gold-trimmed purple carpet leading to the throne with a look of predatory amusement.

“{My quarrel is not with you, Duchess Latherian!}” the Baron declared with a bravery that Leonidas felt himself faintly impressed by. “{I only seek justice for the actions taken by—}”

“My Squire,” the Last Archon of Altera said with a mirthless smile. “Did you not know, Baron? An Archon’s Mandate can only be contested against a full Archon. His Majesty has earned the Class, but not met the requirements for full elevation within the Order. By the ancient laws of that same Order, any challenges of an Archon’s Mandate must be met by the Mentor of any Archon below Contender rank.”

Teryn grimaced again at Ceruviel’s words and tightened his hands into fists behind his back, visible only by the faint introduction of tension in his unimpressive shoulders.

“{...what? That’s preposterous!}” the Baron stated at the same time, looking between Leonidas and Ceruviel with growing outrage.

Well, Leonidas thought quietly, at least he’s consistent.

“Those are the laws of the Archon Order, Baron Cartellis,” Ceruviel said again, still calmly advancing down the carpet, “and have been for every millennium since its founding.”

“{Irrelevant!}” the Baron said with an edge of wild desperation to his voice that almost made Leonidas feel pity. Almost. “{By the Archon-King’s own words, this is no longer Altera! We are not tied to—}”

“The Laws of the Realm as they pertain to the High Kingdom of Eldormer,” Leonidas cut in, more gently than he’d expected himself to be. “That does not mean I threw out every tradition, my lord. Ceruviel is the Grandmaster of the Archon Order on Terra, and it is her will that dictates what traditions the new branch does and does not adhere to.”

Ceruviel smiled ruthlessly at the words and settled her hand on her longsword hilt.

“And as quite a few of the Dawnguard and Royal Guard can attest,” the Duchess said mercilessly, “I have already made my stance on the challenging of Archon Mandate very clear.”

The Baron stared at the Dusk-Lord in momentary stunned silence and then drew his sword, pointing it at Leonidas. The Royal Guard shifted, but Leonidas just idly raised a hand to keep them steady, drawing the Count’s eyes as the gilded warriors returned to parade rest a moment later.

His expression tightened subtly at the interaction.

“{You tricked me!}” the Baron raged, unaware and hyper-focused on Leonidas. “{You asked me precisely what you needed to ask in order to manipulate your way out of fighting me!}”

Leonidas did not deny it; he simply nodded.

“I did,” he answered levelly. “A political use of tradition that any Haelfar would laud me for, in any other situation,” he continued calmly. “One reminiscent of that which I believe High King Vernnius used to summon Alurien Starsword as his Champion during a challenge by a subordinate Monarch.”

“True,” Aylar called, having calmly made her way to Leonidas’ side. “My grandfather did indeed invoke a similar, albeit not identical, mandate to garner the Starsword’s aid in a duel. It was seen as a masterful work of statecraft by the Realm.”

“{Similar, but not identical!}” the Baron repeated angrily, and perhaps a little desperately.

“Yes,” Ceruviel agreed. “Vernnius’ reasoning was weaker.”

“{Surely,}” Count Cartellis said as he reached out to lower his son’s sword, “{we can find a more equitable solution. A Venerate against a Contender is hardly a fair battle, Your Majesties.}”

Leonidas smiled ruefully at that, Ceruviel sneered, and Aylar raised an eyebrow, but it was the leader of the First Legion, Marquis Colquen, who spoke.

“No less unfair than an Elite against an Initiate, Count Cartellis,” the Haelfar said while descending the dais. “Yet I did not see you rushing to dissuade the former Prince-Royal from duelling the then-uncrowned King.”

Count Cartellis glanced at the Marquis, and his features twisted into a forced smile.

“{That was a matter of immutable tradition, my lord. This is—}”

“Tradition older than Eldormer itself,” Ceruviel cut in flatly. “Unless you intend to denounce our entire civilization’s established precedents, Teryn, this farce has run its course. Your son has declared the challenge. I will meet it.”

Cerion Cartellis looked between the frustrated visage of his father, the Legion-Master, the Queen, Ceruviel, and then finally focused again on Leonidas.

The Archon-King saw the exact moment the Baron intended to do something stupid and calmly moved his left hand to pre-emptively signal the Royal Guards to stand by, while he flooded his body with Psi and stepped forward, just a single step. Some lessons had to be taught without mercy, and for all that he did not have his [Psionic Amplifier] or [Archon’s Warplate], he did have something else.

His Tribulation.

The Baron exploded into movement with a shout of desperate fury, and Leonidas saw Ceruviel glance not at him, but at the Count, who Leonidas noticed was very tense.

Shouts erupted across the chamber, but Leonidas was already in motion: his right arm extended, Psi flooded his body, and he channelled a third of his reserves into an overwhelming expenditure of [Psionic Force].

The Baron froze three feet short of Leonidas.

Leonidas stepped forward with his arm still extended, fingers clawed downward as he shaped the crackling outline of violet power that held the Baron frozen in place. He’d used 56 out of 170 of his Psi for the initial casting, leaving him with 114, and the rest was draining at an alarming rate to hold the struggling Contender—but it was enough.

“I am sorry for what happened to your sister,” Leonidas said instead of castigating him; his voice carried by the Throne Room’s acoustics. “What I did, I did out of rage. I don’t think it was wrong, even now, but I do think that the sentence was emotionally motivated.”

He came to a halt beside the Baron and flexed more Psi into his grip, slamming the man prone onto the floor, soundless but for the impact of metal on manastone.

“That being said, you just tried to attack your lawful Sovereign, Cerion Cartellis, even after seeing the City going into lockdown. I can’t tell if you’re stubborn to the point of blindness, or willfully ignoring the needs of the Realm, but either way: I can accept a personal attack against me, but as King, I cannot accept willful sabotage of the Kingdom’s stability during a time of crisis.”

Leonidas lowered himself to a knee beside the man and set his right hand on the back of his blond head, activating his [Psionic Siphon] while he spoke, and momentarily slowing the rapid drain of his reserves with the incoming Psi he tore from the Baron’s mind.

“You have left me in a predicament, here,” he said with forced calm, while the throne room’s occupants—all Haelfenn—watched on in attentive silence. “On one hand, I am within my rights to execute you right now. Hell, my Royal Guards would do it just to stave off the shame of letting you get this close, whether I ordered them to stand aside or not… but I can see your father loves you,” Leonidas said, looking toward the Count, who was glancing between his prostrate son and the predatory gaze of Ceruviel Latherian.

“So instead of depriving a father of a second child, and instead of weakening my Kingdom with your death, I am going to give you a chance to save your life.”

Leonidas glanced back toward Legion-Master Colquen and then looked once more toward the frozen, helpless Baron, while violet lightning continued to lance off of his ensorcelled body. “I am conscripting you into the Royal Army, by my authority as King. You will serve in the First Legion-Master’s staff for a period of no less than ten years. Access to the wisdom and knowledge of an Ascendant is a considerable advantage to have for any Cultivator.”

The Baron groaned faintly under his grip, and Leonidas smiled mirthlessly.

“The alternative is that I destroy your Core and exile you from my Dominion entirely, Cerion. Those are your choices,” Leonidas stated firmly. “I am going to release you now, and I suggest you consider your next move wisely—not just for your own sake, but the sake of your lineage, as well. It would be a damn shame for untold generations of your bloodline to end because of your juvenile stupidity. The [Kingdom of Avalon] cannot afford to lose more loyal sons.”

A moment later, Leonidas rose and ended his [Psionic Siphon] and [Psionic Force] Skills in order, releasing the Baron from his psychic hold and mentally preparing himself to leap backward if the man chose the absolute dumbest path forward.

For a wonder, the Baron didn’t move immediately, but instead pushed himself up to his knees, his gaze faintly unfocused from the after-effects of the [Psionic Siphon].

Behind Leonidas, Aylar approached quietly, coming to his side and looking down at the blond noble when she did.

“I knew you when we were children, Cerion,” the Queen said quietly, her arms folded over her chest as she peered at him. “You were always passionate, but never a fool. Make the right choice.”

The Baron stared at her in silence when she spoke, and his jaw locked, until Marquis Colquen also approached, standing a few respectful feet back, but regarding the Baron in expectant silence—wordlessly announcing his tacit acceptance.

Finally, Cerion’s expression faltered, and his eyes drifted back to Leonidas—still unfocused, but not wholly absent. There was resignation in his gaze, mixed with hatred, and yet strangely bonded with respect. Even if the man held no regard for the Crown and lacked understanding of precedent, Aylar’s words and Leonidas’ sheer power seemed to have left some sort of mark on him.

At last, the Baron spoke.

“{Ten years,}” Cerion agreed after a long moment, and with only a mild slurring of his words. “{In exchange, I will have a proper duel when we are of equal Rank. I would rather die than abandon my duty to my sister’s honor…. Your Majesty.}”

Leonidas smiled wryly at the man and found himself unable to help but respect his temerity. Even after everything, he was resolved. Truthfully, as a brother himself, he could even empathize. If someone had hurt Kairi the same way he himself had harmed Cerynia, he couldn’t deny he’d probably have gone feral.

“Agreed,” Leonidas answered simply, taking Aylar around the waist with his arm and turning away. “When we are of equal rank, you will have your duel, Baron Cartellis. I give you my word.”

He paused and glanced at the Count mid-step, peering at the older man.

“I trust you will respect this arrangement, my lord?”

In response, the Count—jaw still locked—merely bowed his head in silence.

It was enough.