As her archbishop enters the great hall, Rirshka looks on in disgust at the humans and their bickering. It is a pitiful sight, seeing what is supposed to be her empire’s greatest minds having such disagreements over something that should be as natural as breathing. Thankfully despite being unfashionably late, her divine tool had enough of a presence, together with Rahena’s own representative, to quiet down the shouts into murmuring protests.
“Dragging us all into your petty squabble…” spoke a robustly built, absurdly tall man, his finger annoyingly chipping away at the marble table with each persistent tap. “Your family has tried six times to kill that dreg and failed each and every attempt. It is a miracle you are even allowed to show your face at this table after leading twenty thousand souls to their doom.”
Flames licked the ornate marble black as equally annoying taps were returned by the wrathful, dishonored duke. That only seemed to draw amusement out of the lithe man that spoke in two voices. “Oh please do tell why should we even bother? I truly don’t wish to spend the next fifty years scrambling to replace my peasants after that beast gorges itself rotund. You and your incompetent family have done plenty.”
Rahena was not famous for her patience, as such her bishop tapped the table and put a stop to the rising tensions, golden lightning coiling and jumping over the stone, biting any who still flashed their mana. The aged man then cleared his throat and spoke out, in a voice so calm it did not fit the greatest worshiper of the storm that was Rirshka’s sister. “As you should know, this is not merely a vendetta. The dragoness has become a danger that even the gods took note of.”
Taking the offered aid, the flaming duke raised from his seat, presenting the findings of his many spies. “She has children. Increased witchbeast activity and strength, infant wyverns attacking livestock or being sighted hunting in the wilderness, sprinkled all over the empire, sudden tribute and finally, most compelling of all, our benevolent patron of harvests saw fit to use her miracles to show her priesthood the existence of these hatchlings.” At that, Rirshka’s beloved priest offered a curt nod, not being much of a talker in spite of his position.
It seemed that the confirmation of the infant dragons took the amusement away from the dukes. Arkros may have an unhealthy obsession with the beast, but here it was a pleasant tool.
“That is why we must act now.” Arkros spoke in a commanding tone. “Failures though they may be, we know enough about this dragon that we can end her if only I wasn’t forced to fight using only mercenaries and peasants. We need to form a unified army to subjugate the creature, one armed with proper soldiers, not meatbags for her to feast on.”
“Ah… But you see, taking away important men from my lands would put me in quite the danger. There are news of the Berkels gathering troops and weapons close to the borders of my vassals. I cannot in good conscience ignore it…” The two voiced man spoke, not hiding at all the shrewdness of his voice.
“The barbarians are persistent as ever. A warband raided a town two days ago and another hit the reinforcements that were sent to handle the first. I have my hands full handling those savages.” Dismissed the small giant, not even attempting to use a better excuse.
“The war with the south is still…”
“There’s a war in the south? I’ve handled the northwest for so long and you started…”
It was all devolving, the other nobles present finally being courageous enough to draw attention once it became clear that things would not get violent between the stronger men around. She could feel the bubbling rage of her sister, so she reached for her hand, which only served to make her lash out, though not exactly towards Rirshka.
“Insignificant ants! using their little battles as pretext… I am war! I tell them where and when to fight and they win! How dare they shy away when I command them!?” Rirhka watched the chaos in disgust, but spoke in the soft tone that was expected of her.
“Sister, that is their nature. Small things in their small worlds… It matters not because, in the end…” she did not say more as their faithful rose and spoke in a booming tone, or at least Rahena’s did.
“Silence! This is no matter of fighting between men, the gods did not merely deign to tell us of the danger, the twin goddesses demand the immediate extermination of the beasts! The monsters will cause untold harm to our land, we mus-” A tired voice. A quiet thing. A whisper of the wind coming from a husk that barely clings to life. The most infuriating mortal cut through the speech in a very simple manner.
“No.” Asserted the Emperor. “No army will be sent.” The shock was evident on most people’s faces, aside from the despised duke himself and the seemingly young man with mismatched eyes standing next to the Emperor. “Calm your sharp tongue. The Goddesses spoke, but the men die. I will not have another tragedy happen because of that dragon.” Almost like the decision was already made, the frail elder rose from his throne, aided by his son, obviously preparing to leave this meeting.
“I understood it.” Arkros spat out, flames dancing across his hair and beard. “When you turned a blind eye to my grandfather being killed by her and his sword was taken, I understood why you did nothing. When my father was murdered as he tried to reclaim our land… Your land! I understood why you sent nothing. It was up to us alone to fix our broken honor. Even when I lead the charge, dooming simple men to fighting that monster after years of trying to get even a single one of your weapons to assist in the hunt, I understood.”
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“Duke Varkrm, this is a dangerous thing you’re doing, considering your standing.” Spoke not the Emperor, but rather his son, frowning at the unsightly display. Yet the duke ignored it.
“Yet this? Now? When the goddesses will it, when multiple beasts just like that wretched cur are growing on the land of this empire and they will go out and hunt our people, bring death and destruction to even more of our territory… You do not want your legacy to be one of brash decisions and dead men, that I understood! And yet all you’re doing is heading towards the inevitable legacy of a man that stood by as monsters that will bring terror for centuries grew right under his nose! The man that defied the gods and cursed our empire for a hundred generations of suffering!”
The Emperor turned his tired eyes towards the man and suddenly cuts appeared over his face, but he did not move. He was resolute, and so the Emperor relented. Rirshka smiled at the duke’s wit, hitting the old bag of bones where it hurt most. He had already allowed the monster to claim his land without opposition, if he allowed anything more than that…
“I will not send the imperial army.” Immediately Rirshka’s face fell, as did the duke’s. If they didn’t have the help of… “But I will offer you five of my best masters, two squads of wyvern riders and a royal decree to gather any available and battle ready user of magic to your cause. You will be leading from the front, this time. If you return after abandoning your men this time, however… Varkrm will be no longer.”
That finally ended the meeting. The sisters were bitter over the outright denial of their will, but they knew that in the end they would be the ones truly leading the empire once all was said and done.
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Arkros watched over his army, not with any sort of excitement over the coming slaughter, but with anger over the husk’s stubbornness. Sending so few of his tools… so little risk to himself as he put everything in the duke’s hands… he hated that ancient thing, for in his eyes there was little difference between the emperor and the dragoness. Sure, one aged much more gracefully than the other, yet still…
“Prepare! We are approaching the border between our land and the dragon’s! Wizards, in front! Handle the beast’s traps and protections! Priests, stay close to the men and keep them protected! I want the levies and soldiers prepared! We will camp before properly going in. This may be our last moment of peace, so be ready for the death of the dragon!” His officers riled up the men, or at least most of them. He could see how terrified the levies were, peasants would always be peasants, but they were needed. He could not send only proper fighters against this monster, after all. Not considering what is needed to bring her down…
Still, the plans were set. The goddess of thunder and war was blessing them, priests of the twin goddesses ensured that everyone that mattered was prepared for what was to come. In the meantime, he went to check on the wild cards, the things that he had never had under his control, despite his age. He watched as the knights wearing armor usually only reserved for high nobility kept close to the lesser draconic monsters they controlled, keeping them low to the ground so as not to give away their approach. Next he looked at the “masters” and the things they controlled. They were few in number… but the dragoness would never expect to face such things.
“Finally… Finally a good chance at taking your head…” Rage boiled, but he did not let it take over. Instead he went to the hurriedly raised tent where he will spend the night. Before going in to rest, he looked at the wizards as they carefully unmade a strange, perpetual spell that hurt to look at with his mana sight. “Bring in the light of gods to this land once more… or something of that sort.” He was too tired to think of the proper words. After all, he cared little for the gods. All he wanted was to finally kill the monster, and if the gods taking over this piece of land will help with that, then so be it.
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The Mistress of Tranquil Waters is restless. Her eldest took one of his pets on a flight, but that wasn’t it. Her children have been growing steadily, developing well, but still something was wrong. Her eldest had improved so much in such a short time, spurred by his siblings attaining their affinity, yet he was not tempted to use more chaos magic in spite of training exclusively around that pillar.
What could possibly be going so very wrong that her instincts still make her worry? She listens to the hum of her mana, but it says nothing new. She extends her senses to the life around herself, yet there is nothing special. She takes to the skies and watches her child as he flies oh so swiftly towards a small town… Is that it? Is it his naivety? It could be. He spread his affection to the others, setting in stone that she can’t get rid of the animals.
She growled in frustration. Her instincts were so very rarely wrong, so she delved into them, trying to understand where this unease came from. A deep breath, a pulse of mana, a response she did not expect. In a moment her eyes narrowed on the small window flavored like the last pest she had to eliminate, the one from, before winter. The faint, foreign energy is enough to explain why she was uneasy. Gods were watching. Gods aren’t supposed to be watching. The only ones that should be capable of such a feat are far too big to care for her… So how?
Her blood runs cold, then hot again. It is distant, oh so distant, but one of her spells was undone. It is too far to be certain of which and when, but she feels the string of mana connecting her to it being cut away and the rough direction of the new emptiness. Her flight turns from a circle meant to watch her immediate surroundings to a purposeful path towards the largest town in her territory.
She doesn’t know what to expect, not now that the damnable gods are involved, so she focuses entirely on what may be the cause… but no matter how she empowers her sight, or whatever alternative she uses to sense for abnormalities, nothing appears… at least until she gets to the edge of her forest.
Mana, clumps and clumps of mana. The plains are empty yet mana gathers strangely. Spells are happening, her senses are confused, a steel arrow somehow reaches her body but it is ignored by her scales. There are men there. Many, many men. They wear cloth and metal, bear simple weapons, yet are protected from sight by mages that are already running for their lives. A small army makes itself known and the apparent soldiers seem less inclined in attacking her, yet still they try, but mostly they focus on trying to get into the forest.
Her children… They’re here for her children! That is the instinct… the instinct of a mother to protect her young ones from invaders.
She pours mind into her breathshaper, channeling as a white glow envelops her, then a roar echoes over her entire territory.
“Go home!” she commanded. But the humans below were only partially affected by her magic, as her main targets were her children. She needed to handle these things before they could reach her young ones. She must decimate the humans.
And so she does as the forest below comes to life.