The dragons began the reign of King Solanzir, the first king of Cintarzia. The enormous reptiles stomped and fumed within Montdraekko, a cove built for them. The infernos within them kept the fires of Draekkon burning.
Firetide, the largest of the Draekkonian dragons, was a monstrous black creature. His face was covered in spikes. His scales matched the color of soot. He was the King’s dragon, and no one but Solanzir could ride him.
With their fiery breath and their vicious, carnivorous bite, they helped the newly minted King of Draekkon become the King of Cintarzia. As a dragon king, the dragons gravitated to him, roosting on the ocean-facing side of his stone fortress by the sea.
Solanzir crowned himself the King of Cintarzia a year ago, the first Draekkonian king to ever do so. As a dragon king, this was his option, and he took it. He used the dragons to defeat clan after clan, noble after noble. He dethroned kings and unseated queens.
The war was bloody, but once the Cintarzians could see which way the wind was blowing, they had to follow. Cintarzians were given the option to bow to King Solanzir or be eliminated.
Without a reasonable choice, they surrendered. He ruled the entire continent in the Grey Sea, the first to ever do so. He didn’t gain his position through goodwill but by force. This was reflected in the people’s fear of him.
To become king of all the lands of Cintarzia, he consolidated the dragons to the north in Montdraekko, Draekkon, the stronghold of his forefathers. Solanzir was a cold man, and he didn’t tolerate rebellion.
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His dragons worked to keep the Cintarzians in line. His dragons forced the kings of Cintarzia to obey. He became something more than a king. He used the dragons to force the leader of the Ghylantians to cooperate. No longer would they attack the Draekkonian settlements bordering their land.
Solanzir’s long, jet-black hair had a bluish-white streak. At the age of forty-six, he was as physically strong as ever. Even with his ruthlessness as a ruler demonstrated, and the destructiveness of the dragons evident, trouble was in the air. A year into the invasion, the nobles from the middle lands were spoiling for a fight.
He was set to be introduced to Jovanna Burnsley in a week. She was the princess from the defeated country of Burnleaf. Her father had arranged the marriage to promote peace, but his efforts failed. The nobles wanted war, and Solanzir was willing to accommodate them.
The children from Solanzir’s first marriage included his sons Vorin and Andelvin, and his daughter, Tialle. Their mother Dianthea was a commoner, a woman he loved when he was a younger man. Sadly, she was prone to miscarriages, the last of which took her life.
Solanzir would stomp out the nobles of Burnleaf before their protest spread to the provinces of Eastmane and Silverhawke. If he could control the rebellion, he didn’t expect any issues from the people of Aquatreya. They only cared about luxury.
Solanzir sat on the dragon throne. The faces of bronze dragons graced the armrests, and the wood portion of the chair throne was adorned with carved dragon scales. The seat had upholstery made of dragon’s hide. Behind him, artisans were adding new murals to the walls, their paintings to feature his defeat of the Cintarzian armies.
Solanzir pushed his long hair to the back, his face imperious. He was aware of every minute that passed as he waited. His spy was due to report back to him what was happening in the Grey Ghostlands, the territory of the elves.