Our entourage enters through the gates of Ialdai, greeted by a crowd. We walk through the city streets as if we were in a parade. I'd much prefer to fly to the meeting point with the lords of the city. Only Ralkor knows how much I've come to hate long walks. But Kheldash said it would send the wrong message.

If I were to soar through the skies of Ialdai, I would look like an invader. By walking through the city streets, I appear as a guest.

The ialdai people seem apprehensive as they watch our entourage pass, escorted by the city guards. The crowd is composed of various races of beastfolk and goblinoids. It's like an open-air menagerie, with specimens of various colors and forms.

The goblinoids are quite diverse, but none as diverse as the trolls. They can be as big as ogres or as small as goblins. The color of their skin varies from shades of green, gray, blue, and many others. The only thing that unites them as a species is their astounding healing ability.

But no variety of troll draws as much attention as the trows. They look exactly like elves, but with small fangs and skin in shades of purple or gray.

While the black elves of Shandor apparently resemble black humans with pointed ears, the trows are the creatures closest to the dark elves of legends.

This makes sense since black elves are the cross between high elves and black humans, while trows are the cross between high elves and trolls.

§ § § § § §

When we arrive at the meeting point, the city lords await us in front of what appears to be a colosseum entrance. Among them, one figure catches my attention, as well as that of the others accompanying me. She has lilac skin and gray braided hair. Her fangs are barely visible in her mouth. You can see only her full lips painted in dark purple.

A female trow.

"Greetings, Your Majesty." A beastman steps forward from the group. "My name is Arana, and I speak on behalf of the council of lords of Ialdai." He has a slender body and tawny fur. A cougarling.

I expected a more middle-eastern appearance, but they wear Inca-style clothing. Like from the movie with the llama, of course. While others wear more ancient Egyptian-like clothes or clothing I don't recognize.

"We apologize for the unusual meeting place. We feared that Your Majesty couldn't enter the City Council Hall without... discomfort. An open space like the city's Colosseum seemed more suitable for a wyvern." The cougarling explains.

"Do not worry." I reply as I spread my wings and take flight into the empty building. There's an improvised table at the center of the arena where the meeting will take place, and a platform in front of it.

I lay down on this platform while waiting for my entourage to enter in the conventional way, through the stadium's doors.

The five city lords sit on one side of the table, while five members of my Council of Folks sit on the other side. Along with Kheldash and Farat, the beastfolk Umara and Sodin and priest Latharon accompany us.

"I hope your journey was smooth." The beastman Arana tries to break the ice.

"And it was." Kheldash replies. "The desert is much safer since we took control of it."

The two start chattering for mere formality. So boring.

"Let's cut the small talk." The female trow interrupts the chit-chat. "And get straight to the point..."

Now they have my attention.

"Ferin, you can't disrespect our guests like that!" Arana tries to scold her.

"Your Majesty, do you wish for Ialdai to become part of your expanding kingdom, am I right?" She ignores her fellow lord.

For a moment, the Colosseum falls silent. Everyone waits for my response.

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"Indeed." I answer calmly.

"Then, Your Majesty, may I ask one more question?" She looks at me with greedy eyes.

"Go ahead, trow." I give her permission to continue with her boldness.

"Does Your Majesty intend to conquer Stroi and the Woods of Ul-Gak?"

She wants to know the fate of the cursed jungle of the trows.

"Are you concerned about your kin?" I inquire.

"Some might say that, but I'm more interested in the opportunity." She evasively responds.

Fishy, fishy, fishy. But keep talking, trow.

"If Your Majesty assures that you intend to conquer Ul-Gak, then you have my vote as one of the lords of Ialdai in favor of our submission to the kingdom of Darog."

"Ferin, not even you can be this rash." Another city lord complains.

"Hahaha." I laugh, much to the jitters of Iaidai's rulers. But the trow seems excited.

"Very well, Lady Ferin of Ialdai. Know that those cursed jungles of your people will one day be mine. Even if I have to burn them all."

"I'd prefer Your Majesty not burn them all." She smirks.

"Then help me conquer them, and you may rule them in my name, as you wish."

"That is exactly what I desire, Your Majesty."

Good. One down, four to go.

§ § § § § §

After promises, commitments, and bribes, one by one, the lords of Ialdai agreed to submit and bow before me.

Now I am the true master of this city.

"That was easier than I imagined." Farat sighs in relief.

"Yes... All I had to do was spend almost a year digging up and roasting giant worms in a scorching desert." I grumble.

"You're complaining about the heat? You have fire damage resistance!"

"Just because it doesn't hurt doesn't mean it's not bothersome." I complain.

"How about spending a few days with Korath, cooling off your head in her mountains?"

"I'd rather unearth a thousand more sandworms." I say, remembering the icy winds of those frozen peaks. I simply can't stand the cold.

"But that trow, Ferin, seems like trouble." Farat changes the subject. "And I thought Kheldash was a difficult woman..."

"At least the trow is straightforward. Her intentions were quite clear, as if she didn't care that we knew what she was plotting."

"She doesn't care. Trows are as arrogant as elves and..." The orc hesitates.

"AND?"

"Your kind, Your Majesty..."

"I'm not arrogant. I simply state the facts. It's not my fault you humanoids have an inferiority complex."

"Trows, elves, and dragons... Pride must be a malady that afflicts races with long lifespans." The shaman comes to a conclusion.

"Now it's our fault that you all die so quickly?" I mock.

"But at least you dragons spend most of your lives sleeping, waking up only from time to time to stir up the world. Meanwhile, elves and trows are out there... Plotting atrocities for centuries on end."

"Have you always been this prejudiced? I think our roles have reversed?"

"I have nothing against elves. I even have a friend who likes to wildshape into one..."

"Aaah... That was so low. Where are you learning these things?"

"With Your Majesty." The orc responds slyly. But speaking of slyness…

"Wait! Where's Kheldash?"

"How should I know?" The orc shrugs. "I'm blind."

"Come on, what's wrong with you today? Did you drink that fermented cactus juice or something? You're reeking of alcohol and babbling nonsense nonstop."

As I try to scold Farat, two figures on a rooftop observe our departure from Ialdai.

"You acted perfectly today." The cambion Kheldash praises.

"You flatter me, General Kheldash." The cougarling Arana thanks. "But the arrogant and foolish Ferin did most of the work herself. All I had to do was lose her leash."

"Still, you've been doing an exemplary job in this city."

"I just try to help fulfill the desires of our master." The beastman bows.

"Then keep up the good work and help me ensure that dragon conquers this continent."

The cougarling nods in response to the orders and begins to recite.

"All Hail Akalani, Dragonlord of the Steppes of Darog and the Desert of Maz. May his breath scorch the world in a searing blaze."

To which Kheldash responds.

"All Hail."