Cataclysm Conquest | Chapter 05: The Lion Princess (First Draft)

Saturday, November 26, 4 S.E.

James scowled out at the St. Lawrence waterway from the prow of the Ulysses, staring at the passing shores with his arms folded over his chest. The pursuit from the manabeast that had attacked them had ended when they’d entered the comparatively shallow water leading toward Michigan, but the creature had done a number on his ship.

One engine destroyed, two hull breaches, and a whole section of their perimeter guns destroyed—to say nothing of the four Marines that had died trying to fend off its aggression. The cost of escaping the immense monster had been catastrophic, and that was without considering what they’d finally identified it as.

A Kraken. A genuine, honest-to-God bloody Kraken off the eastern coast of North America.

James shook his head and glanced down at the water beneath them, noting the ripples from manabeasts exploring the enchanted and warded hull of his Aetheric Destroyer, and then fleeing at the reflective power of the defenses. Against smaller creatures, the pain encountered when bumping the vessel was enough to dissuade aggression—but that had been irrelevant to the Kraken, and now he had to consider how on God’s green earth he was going to sail back out to sea with that thing lurking around.

It would take them another three to four days at their current speed to navigate all the way to Michigan through the seaway, and that was without accounting for destroying the Locks that may have been in place. Thus far, they’d found them open or outright flooded, with topographic alteration doing them a favor for once and expanding the seaway significantly—but that was a small benefit in a world of disfavor.

The Emperor had charged James directly with bringing his daughter to the [Kingdom of Avalon], and Captain Cook was not in the business of dereliction. He’d make sure the Princess got to her location, manabeasts and roving madmen be damned. They’d already had to scare off one group of potential raiders, firing a salvo from their guns and erasing half a mile of terrain from existence to make the warning felt.

His eyes shifted as he turned and looked up to the imperial flag flying over the bridge, bearing a golden lion rampant upon the Union Jack. British enough for his patriotism to stir, different enough for him to know it wasn’t the United Kingdom of old. The rulers of the Empire were descendants of the Kings and Queens of England, and had originally been a part of the House of Windsor, and only the quick action of the now-Emperor had managed to preserve what remained of the United Kingdom.

The grandson of Queen Elizabeth the Second had proven his mettle, though it wasn’t without cost. Princess Anne’s third son had saved the Empire from ruin when his relatives had been killed during the manabeast incursion, and he’d ascended the throne amidst a calamitous apocalypse that had ravaged the world.

Now the Emperor’s youngest daughter was in James Cook’s care, and he was determined to ensure the twenty-three-year-old Princess came to no harm, no matter what. He’d sworn a System Oath to serve the Emperor’s Navy, and he’d be damned if he didn’t work to fulfil it to his utmost.

His gaze drifted back to the water through which the Ulysses’ prow was cutting, and he let out a quiet sigh as he sank back into his thoughts. Whatever awaited them in the [Kingdom of Avalon] was uncertain, but the messengers sent by the Empire would be reaching the young King there in a few days’ time. With luck, James wouldn’t need to make the dangerous trek across the land with the Princess, leaving the Ulysses vulnerable in his absence.

Stealing the vessel was next to impossible without his System-enforced command authority, but even that security wasn’t enough to comfort him.

No Captain was easily willing to abandon their ship, good cause or no.

His thoughts were intruded upon a moment later, however, by the sound of heels on metal, and he turned to find the very subject of his musings walking toward him.

Princess Elizabeth Juliet Britannia was the very image of royal pedigree: 5’10, taller in heels, with an athletic build and subtle curves that were impossible to miss. She wore a formal black dress that morning, with an elegant black bustier that hugged her without emphasizing anything. A river of crimson ran from below the gold-filigreed lionhead at the center of her sternum, down toward her thighs, and was framed by the sable color of her dress where it fell down to her ankles.

The dress itself was layered, with the central crimson coloration splitting near her thighs, and creating a triangular tabard over an underlayer of black material, with two obsidian skirtings trailing as she walked. The outer layer of black was lined with gold at the inner edges and the bottom hem, stylized into larger, gilded lions marching up toward her midriff.

Even beneath the layers of her attire, the flare of her hips was evident, and the Princess seemed to make no secret of her own beauty. Her eyes, a striking emerald green, were outlined in dark mascara, matching the wavy length of ebon hair that fell across her pale chest and back, and her full lips were softly painted, with a button nose that completed a stunningly elegant appearance. Her crown was securely on her head, golden in the sun, and studded with a large emerald at its center.

She was an inverted, almost gothic mirror of her golden-haired mother, but held all the force of a Monarch in her viridian gaze. He bowed after a moment, and then saluted when he straightened, hand-to-cap as he’d done for three decades.

“Captain Cook,” she greeted him as she approached, her accent as proper and aristocratic as any pre-Integration Royal, “I came to call upon you to ask after our progress. After the excitement three days before, I had wondered if you had run into impediments in your journey.”

“Your Imperial Highness,” he replied politely, turning to step aside as she joined him at the prow, and the gold-edged crimson cloak she wore, attached to the stylistic pauldrons on her shoulders, billowed around her in the breeze. “Things are proceeding quite well, in fact. We lost an engine to the Kraken, but the Ulysses is self-repairing, and we’re due to make port in Michigan in the next three to six days.”

“I take it you are concerned about the state of the Locks,” the Princess said, narrowing her eyes at the water. “The Americans certainly did love their security.”

“Yes, Your Imperial Highness,” he answered with a faintly surprised nod. “I didn’t know you had an interest in maritime navigation.”

“I do not,” Elizabeth replied firmly, taking the railing at the prow in the long, artistic fingers of her left hand and peering over the edge toward the water below. “I did, however, have a fascination with engineering at Cambridge. Say what you wish about the Colonies, Captain, they certainly did know how to build wondrous things.”

I forgot about that. She was already in University at fifteen. The girl’s a born genius. No wonder she’s so eccentric.

“Even if the Locks are closed, Your Imperial Highness, the Ulysses’ cannons will make short work of them. It’s a pity to destroy any lasting remnants of the Old World, but we cannot afford to be delayed.”

Elizabeth nodded as she stepped back and reached up to catch some errant strands of her hair, brushing them behind her right ear and sighing.

“Will you be remaining to return me home, Captain, or am I to truly be exiled to this juvenile province?”

James grimaced at her question, thankfully unseen, and chose to answer honestly. It was one thing to gloss over facts; it was another to deceive an Imperial Princess. He wasn’t about to err on the side of bloody treason.

“My orders were to ensure your safe arrival, Your Imperial Highness, and then to assess the capability of ensuring your safety. If the [Kingdom of Avalon] is as prosperous and safe as our reports indicate, His Imperial Majesty the Emperor has commanded I return to Britannia, after which either the Ulysses or another vessel in the Imperial Lion Navy will return to bring you home next year.”

“So exile it is,” the Princess responded without disgruntlement, idly tapping her fingers on the railing. “Perhaps it is for the best. Londinium is dreadfully stuffy of late, and I have heard the Americans are rather keen on inventive new ways to ‘blow shit up’, as the saying goes.”

She turned back toward him after she spoke, her green eyes intent.

“Perchance, good Captain, do you know much about this King I am to meet?”

James blinked at her question and immediately thought back to his briefings, absently steadying himself as the Ulysses crested a small wave. He’d been quite thoroughly informed about the Kingdom they were visiting and its apparent culture, customs, and strange blend of Westminster Democracy, Roman affection, and British Monarchy, but he’d only been given a relatively suspect report of its young King.

Many had taken issue with the information, even after several different sources affirmed it was the truth of what they’d been told.

“Well, Your Imperial Highness, I’m not sure there’s much I can tell you that you don’t already—”

“Presume I know nothing,” Elizabeth cut in imperiously, gesturing at him with her right hand as she effortlessly adjusted herself against yet another bump in the Ulysses progress. The sea was in her blood, as a daughter of Britain, and James felt a strange sense of pride in that observation.

“As you wish,” he answered simply, and took a breath before continuing. “From what I’m given to understand, the King is very young, in the scope of things. He’s twenty-five, as I hear it, and is an American native. Purportedly, he possesses a Class, called [Archon], from a distant System World called Altera, which is primarily ruled by High Elves. What facts our citizens managed to gather were as follows…”

James took another breath while the Princess watched him, and tried not to cringe at the madness of what he was about to say.

“...he defeated an Adept rank Hydra as an Untempered Novice, in his first Month in the City. He is apprenticed to a Venerate rank High Elf from Altera; he is a born [Sovereign], bearing that Ambition as part of his Alphas,” James said and frowned when he did, given how unimaginable it was, but continued regardless.

"He supposedly married a High Elf Princess to become King, after he killed her Elite rank brother in an honor duel of some sort while being only an Initiate, and he purportedly has the ability to destroy Cores with a single blow, command the thunder and storms of the world to do his bidding, and is said to undergo Heavenly Tribulation every time he Tempers.”

The Captain sighed in embarrassment at recalling the ridiculous tales, no matter how heavily insistent their people were on them being widespread truth, and then smiled apologetically at the watching Princess while he continued. She appeared to show no overt reaction, other than a faint smile of amusement.

“He is entitled the ‘Black Knight of Terra’ as a moniker, allegedly defeated an invading army over thirty thousand strong, which was led by his grandfather, while also leading the Kingdom’s forces from the front lines against the largest host,” James recited, while wanting to shake his head. The tales were truly blown out of proportion, and if even half of them were true, he’d eat his hat.

Nonetheless, he continued as the Princess raised an elegant black eyebrow.

“And lastly, he has raised an army over forty thousand strong, brought in one of the forces that attacked his City as a citizen race, is worshipped by them as a living god, and if rumors are to be believed, he is as strong and durable as an Ascendant without even reaching his Contender rank as yet—all of this is purported to have happened, Your Imperial Highness, within the span of just under two months while he remains just shy of twenty-six years old.”

Elizabeth regarded him silently when he was finished and made a quiet sound of thought, pursing her soft lips and looking out toward the water.

“And his name?” she asked finally, her fingers idly tapping at the railing.

“Leonidas Achilles Romulus Altera Pendragon, Your Imperial Highness, based on reports,” James answered, ignoring the natural disdain that a foreigner using the Pendragon name inspired within him. It implied a claim that would have been dangerous, had the young King not been an ocean away from Britannia.

“Leonidas Pendragon, hm?” the Princess replied, brushing her hair back again idly. “The way I perceive it, my good Captain, there are only two possibilities before us: either this so-named King is the greatest sheister in modern history, or he is the single most terrifying man Humanity has ever produced.”

James blinked at her rationale and eyed the Princess when she turned back toward him, emerald eyes twinkling and lips set into a small smile.

“Be honest, Captain Cook; does the thought of finding out which it is not excite you just a little bit?”

James regarded her for a moment in thought and then looked out toward the waves. It was a valid question, after all. If even half the rumors were true, which James doubted, it made for a terrifyingly competent image. The Hydra alone would make the King formidable, but if the tales of his powers and battle acumen were true, it would also grant him the potential to be the greatest military leader since Alexander the Great.

A moment of hesitation followed, and once again, he answered honestly.

“I cannot decide, Your Imperial Highness. If he turns out to be a charlatan, I can’t say I’d be very surprised, but if half of it—or God forbid, all of it—is true… well, if I may speak frankly, I daresay the man’s mere existence would make him a threat to every ruler on Earth, eventually; including your Imperial Father.”

Elizabeth nodded at his words and turned back to the water.

When she spoke, her voice was reserved, but James almost thought he heard a hint of hope in her voice—hope, and some small measure of quiet satisfaction.

“Yes,” she agreed finally. “I agree, my good Captain. If he is a charlatan, ‘twould be quite disappointing. However, if it’s true…”

Elizabeth turned back to him, and her green eyes were alight with fascination.

“If it’s true, Captain Cook, I daresay Leonidas Pendragon may just be the most dangerous man on the Planet.”