The village headman prostrated himself on the ground. "Thank you, mighty dragon! Truly, we are blessed to have you as our lord and master!"

Normally, Doomwing would have been irritated at having to visit so many small villages. However, it had been a while since his ego had been so thoroughly stroked. Napping all the time and living in a volcano meant that he didn't really have many opportunities to be showered in praise. Oh, he'd been flattered before. He was a dragon. People almost always tried to flatter him in a bid to avoid getting eaten. But this? Honest, sincere praise from the very depths of a person's heart? This was far rarer and far more enjoyable.

Doomwing nodded regally and then took to the air once more. That was the last village that he needed to fix. As he soared through the sky, it occurred to him that the fields he'd seen so far looked quite different from the fields of the Sixth Age. If the villagers were anything like the soldiers, then they'd probably forgotten the superior ways of farming that had become widespread by the end of the Sixth Age. Doomwing didn't really care about farming, but he did care about his tribute. The more crops the villagers grew, the more money they would be able to get, and the larger his tribute would be.

But even if he didn't know a lot about farming, he did have books about it. They were part of his hoard, either gifted to him by his friends or taken as loot when he'd raided several of the world's greatest libraries over the millennia. Rather than worry about which books to take, he had used his magic to seize all of them. A lesser dragon might have been content with taking only the books concerning magic or forbidden lore, but Doomwing was no foolish hatchling. All knowledge was valuable, so taking all of the books was the best option.

And books could be bargained for other things. Many scholars, wizards, and kings had approached him with vast sums of wealth, just for a chance to read the books in his hoard. Elerion had been particularly fond of the books about farming. After all, he'd been a farmer's son before he'd become a king, and he'd always dreamed of retiring to a farm of his own once his kingdoms were secure and his children were ready to take over. The plan was to grow potatoes and cabbages and try to convince Doomwing to eat them. Of course, he'd never gotten that farm or grown those vegetables, and any desire Doomwing might have felt to read those books had died alongside his friend.

He could use his magic to copy those books and give them to the headmen of the villages. Wait... could the villagers even read? And if they could, did they even use the same script as before? Damn it. Well, he did have an artefact in his hoard that could impart knowledge. He'd have to test it on a few people to make sure it wouldn't melt their brains, but he could always grab some soldiers when he attacked the kingdom. They were going to die one way or another, so who cared if it was by his teeth or claws or by having their brains melted by an ancient artefact? At least, they'd be useful before they died.

Doomwing returned to his lair and took a moment to bask in the sheer opulence of his hoard. Marcus had once accused him of being the single greatest deflationary force in the world due to just how much of the world's wealth had ended up in his hoard, but that was rubbish. He wasn't the only truly ancient dragon out there, and the others were every bit as greedy as he was. Naturally, he was confident that his hoard was better than theirs, but if all of their hoards were added together, then maybe they might something approaching the greatness of his.

With his magic, Doomwing called the Apeiron Mirror to him. It was amongst the greatest of his treasures and one of the few that he'd made himself. The mirror embodied some of the most complex and powerful scrying and communication magic in existence. At his command, it could find almost anyone in the world and allow him to speak to them.

He carefully positioned the mirror so that whoever he spoke to would have a view of not only him but also his splendid hoard before activating it and reaching out to Marcus. The mirror's surface shimmered before a vast image appeared above it.

Doomwing's eyes narrowed. It was a battlefield. Dead bodies were strewn in the snow amidst vivid starbursts of red. Tattered banners and broken weapons littered the ground, and roaming bands of warriors stalked through the snow, hunting down survivors and looting the dead. Amidst it all stood Marcus, and the ancient vampire looked much as Doomwing remembered him. He was almost seven feet tall with broad shoulders and dark hair. His eyes were the red of freshly spilt blood, and the sword he held was a blade wrought of metal blacker than the dead of night and studded with scarlet runes.

But unlike the last time Doomwing had seen him, Marcus wasn't wearing any black, and he wasn't wearing leather either. Instead, his body was covered in furs taken from beasts common to the far north where winter never ended and summer was only a legend. Rather than being clean shaven, Marcus had a beard, and his hair was wild and unkempt and almost to his shoulders.

The battlefield fell still and silent as the mirror projected an image of Doomwing and his surroundings into the air above Marcus.

"You're playing barbarian again?" Doomwing laughed. "Is this a phase, or are you planning to make something of it?"

Marcus grinned and drove his sword through the back of a man who'd been trying to crawl away. "It's been a while since we spoke, old friend. Just about a thousand years."

"What's a thousand years to people like us?" Doomwing replied.

"Fair enough." Marcus barked an order, and the warriors resumed their activities although many of them kept a wary eye on the image of the dragon. "It's good to see you again. Have your wounds healed?"

"Not completely, but they no longer ache." Doomwing bared his teeth. "I woke up early. Some fool of a king decided to send soldiers to attack my territory."

"Are all of the soldiers dead, and is that king still alive?"

"Of course, they're dead. As for the king, I was wondering if you'd like to come along when I raze his kingdom. You're in the far north, but I can drop by to pick you up. It'll be like old times." Doomwing snickered. "Remember that kingdom of minotaurs in the Fifth Age?"

"I remember. It should have taken us less than a week to burn that kingdom to the ground. You dragged it out for a month because you wanted to eat as many of them as possible." Marcus shook his head. "But me? Bah. Minotaur blood tastes foul."

"Marcus, a minotaur is basically beef that walks on two legs. And we both know that meat with a lot of magic in it tastes better. Since cows aren't exactly known for having lots of magic that makes minotaurs the best beef in the world." Doomwing scoffed. "And if they didn't want to be eaten, their shamans shouldn't have tried to create their own demon god. So... you want me to come and get you?"

Marcus sighed and then shook his head. "I'm afraid I'll be busy for at least another couple of years, old friend."

Doomwing's brows furrowed. "Busy? It's not like you to turn down a chance for a bit of mayhem."

"Normally, I would be happy to go with you, but I found something up here. Do you remember the shadow dragon that you killed at the end of the Fourth Age?" Marcus asked.

"Yes. That bastard was incredibly annoying. He could transform his body into shadows and move through shadows as well. I had to devise several new spells to keep him from escaping me. In the end, I tore out his throat and feasted on his heart. Why do you ask?" Doomwing smiled at the memory. He'd spent weeks chasing after the other dragon, so killing him had been a truly enjoyable experience.

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"Do you remember where you dumped the body?"

"In the... far north." Doomwing stared. "Wait... did something happen with his body?" He hadn't bothered to destroy the body since he'd been needed elsewhere and destroying it would have taken time he simply didn't have. After the battle with the Catastrophe of that Age, he'd simply forgotten about the body. After all, he'd already absorbed what power he could from it, and he had injuries of his own to worry about, not to mention Marcus had been on the verge of death.

"I doubt you intended it, but the place you dumped the body became a magical nexus. Over the millennia, the body contaminated the currents of magic in the area, permanently corrupting them. Not long ago, that corruption finally gave rise to an umbral veil that covers several kingdoms' worth of land." Marcus smirked. "The presence of an umbral veil means that the sun no longer shines on this land. I'm an ancient vampire, so sunlight can't kill me. But other vampires? Oh, yeah. This place is about to be really popular with vampires, and whoever controls it can basically set themselves up as the king of the vampires since this will be the first time we've had a sun-free homeland since the end of the Fourth Age. There are at least seven other ancient vampires up here, and that's not counting the three I've already killed."

Doomwing made a face. "There are times when I feel bad about blowing up the vampire homelands... and then I remember that the Catastrophe of that Age was an ancient vampire necromancer who had an army of undead that numbered in the tens of millions."

Marcus chuckled. "Dear old dad never did know when to call it quits. Nobody would have been upset if he had only proclaimed himself king of the vampires, but he just had to try to conquer the world. Say, I never did thank you for killing him, did I?"

"Most people wouldn't thank someone for killing their father," Doomwing pointed out.

"Most people don't have fathers like mine. He was an asshole who got exactly what he deserved."

Doomwing nodded. If he remembered correctly, Marcus's mother hadn't wanted to be a vampire in the first place, but his father had turned her, and Marcus had been born soon after. "If you want, I can still go up north. It's been a while since I've eaten an ancient vampire."

"I appreciate the sentiment, old friend, but I need to do this without your help. If I'm going to call myself the king of the vampires, I can't have someone else fighting my battles for me."

"You have an army fighting your battles for you," Doomwing replied.

"An army of humans and vampires that I recruited. Having a dragon from the First Age show up is a little bit different."

"Is that why you're dressed like a barbarian?" Doomwing asked.

"That's how they dress up here. Besides, I've gotten sick of black leather."

"And the beard?"

"Thought it was time for a change."

"Is that so?" Doomwing felt a pang of disappointment but crushed it ruthlessly. His friend had finally found something that might help him stave off the existential ennui that haunted so many ancient vampires. "All right then. I'll leave you to your conquest. You'll make a good king, Marcus."

"Thank you. That means a lot coming from you." Marcus pursed his lips. "Have you considered staying awake a bit longer this time?"

"Well, I am going to smash a kingdom."

"The last Catastrophe was bad, Doomwing," Marcus said. "And people... people never really recovered. We lost too much too quickly. But you could change that."

"What do you mean?" Doomwing asked.

"If I'm going to be a king, then why don't you become a king too? The last time I was down south, things were a mess. There wasn't a single king worthy of the title, and I doubt much has changed."

"There's never been a dragon king before," Doomwing murmured. Dragons did not have kings, for every dragon was a power unto themselves. Nor did dragons seek kingship. What need did they have for kingdoms when they themselves possessed greater power than any kingdom?

"You'd be the first," Marcus said. "And, to be honest, it's not like you could be any worse than the current bunch of fools who're in charge. You're not pointlessly cruel, and you have a functional brain, as well as access to what is probably the most complete collection of books from previous Ages. Think of how many people you could help." Doomwing gave him a flat look, and the vampire laughed. "Okay, fine. But think of the tribute you would be able to collect if you were a king."

Doomwing's draconic greed stirred. He had seen just how much money a prosperous kingdom could generate. One of the biggest problems dragons faced was finding ways to increase their hoard. The quickest and easiest way was to seize treasure from kingdoms. However, that method simply wasn't viable in the long term. A dragon could only seize a kingdom's treasury two or three times before the kingdom collapsed, and it could be centuries, even millennia, before another prosperous kingdom arose in its place. Sure, a dragon could expand their territory, seizing treasure from kingdoms that were further and further away, but that would eventually bring them into conflict with other dragons, not to mention it was annoying having to travel so far.

His territory was one way of solving that issue. By leaving the villagers to their own devices for a century at a time and then collecting tribute, he could slowly but surely increase the size of his hoard without much effort. Ruling a kingdom would doubtless involve far more effort, but he could already imagine the rewards. Instead of paying taxes, the entire kingdom would be paying tribute to him. A kingdom generated money in so many different ways, and he'd be getting a slice of all of it. Even better, a kingdom was full of people who could do things. Instead of simply receiving more gold and silver, there was a chance that he could get his subjects to make him new artefacts and other treasures. Sure, he'd probably have to share some of his knowledge and wisdom with them, but it had been so long since he'd added new artefacts and treasures to his hoard.

"Perhaps I could try it," Doomwing said at last. "Dragon Emperor Doomwing does have a nice ring to it."

"Dragon emperor?"

"Naturally, I have to be above any mere king, and an emperor is greater than a king."

"Maybe I should call myself Vampire Emperor Marcus after I win then."

Doomwing scoffed. "Really? Call yourself whatever you like, but I will always be greater than you."

"You sure about that?" Marcus snickered. "Fine. How about this? We can both become kings -"

"That's dragon emperor-"

"We can both become kings, and then we see who does a better job of actually being a king."

"You think you can be a better king than me?" Doomwing asked. "Impossible. I am a dragon, Marcus. I'm naturally awesome at everything."

"We'll see."

"Fine." Doomwing smiled. "I'll keep in touch, Marcus. And if things don't work out up there, don't lose your life fighting battles you can't win."

"Worried about me?" Marcus asked.

"Not really. But a dragon emperor does need good servants..."

"Oh, shut up."

Doomwing sneered. "Bite me."

"You're only saying that because you know I can't bite through your scales."

"Of course." Doomwing's sneer gave way to a grin. "Good luck, Marcus. I believe in you. You really will make a good king."

"That's-"

"But not as good a king as me." Doomwing took a moment to savour the vampire's outraged expression before he cut the connection. Ah, the joys of being the person who operated the mirror. He always got the last word in.