Raphael cautiously studied the unfamiliar crimson dragon's backside. The stranger's elongated quadripartite wings were noticeably narrower than his father Robert's broad, powerfully muscled limbs. Furthermore, the scales exhibited a deeper burgundy hue with the brilliant golden luminescence utterly faded, leaving only a dull, weather-beaten vermilion.
"Surely one so elderly wouldn't dare challenge there for territory? Yet I sense no signs of impending conflict."
The surrounding elemental auras flowed undisturbed, indicating a mere visitation rather than hostile intrusion.
Alerted by the sounds behind him, the ancient dragon lumberously rotated with an unhurried, almost clockwork grace belying his extreme senescence.
Raphael started slightly upon glimpsing the visitor's visage - pendulous growths of loose, sagging flesh hung in meter-long tendrils nearly brushing the ground. The withered features seemed to sag inwards, jowls pooling like melted wax as sunken, rheumy eyes peered dimly forth bereft of any vitality.
Even the horns drooped ponderously, craggy and mottled with lichen-like mosses in their crevices lending an utterly decrepit air.
Every aspect bespoke a dragon surpassing two millennia in age teetering upon the precipice of death itself.
"Oh! Little Raphael! You've grown into such a dashing lad!" The aged dragon's unexpectedly jovial tones belied any familiarity Raphael could recollect.
Instinctively crouching in a wary, distrustful stance, wings held half-furled while tail lashed in agitation, Raphael regarded the decrepit stranger with thinly-veiled hostility as one would assess a potential threat.
Among dragonkind, such a posture constituted blatant challenge and distrust towards others - any ordinary dragon would vehemently take offense.
Yet the primordial seemed utterly oblivious, genially smiling as he continued unperturbed.
"So cautious? Befitting one who slew two dragons and expelled those Strongspine humans from their mountain holdings."
Hmmm?
Raphael detected the tenor of an elder praising a youther's exploits and, straining his recollections, a distant familiarity finally resurfaced.
"Are you...Uncle Old Flame?"
"Who goes there?" Robert's voice abruptly echoed from the volcanic interior before a crimson streak burst forth.
"Raphael?" The patriarch cried out upon recognizing his son, clearly bewildered that the imperiled warlord would risk such brazen exposure with human reprisals imminent.
Robert then glimpsed the venerable dragon, turning a questioning gaze towards his offspring. "This is your Uncle Old Flame, surely you remember him?"
"Of course..."
The elderly dragon was the full-blooded sibling of Raphael's own dam Jenny - their parents bearing him at a very young age before conceiving her egg years later.
Titled the "Blaze Lord of Ember Realms", those intimate with him simply addressed the ancient as "Old Flame".
"Uncle, what brings you to my ancestral home?" Raphael rose from his aggressive crouch under his sire's watchful gaze, beckoning with an inviting sweep of his belly.
Old Flame seemingly enjoyed an amicable rapport with Raphael's parents, Robert often wandering off to visit and returning with fascinating new knowledge.
"Your recent endeavors, of course," Robert replied with resigned exasperation.
"Whatever do I have to do with it?" Raphael scoffed, unaware they could possibly know about the assassination attempt and Nana's grave wounding already.
Another crimson streak heralded Jenny's emergence, the matriarch's delight clearly evident upon seeing her son paying them an unexpected visit.
Robert shot his mate a sidelong glance before continuing his explanation.
"Arnathus approached me claiming you accepted the Prulis faction's overtures to garrison Strongspine against human aggression. He stated you had become their proxy through your union with Rochester's daughter, aligning our lineage to their extremist ambitions by extension."
Raphael reacted with utter bafflement, wings fidgeting uncomfortably. "They offered logistical provisions without obligation which I gladly accepted. As for Nana, our courtship stems from genuine amity devoid of factional ties."
"Yet how did we become entangled within the same conflict?"
Robert and Old Flame traded skeptical looks before the latter cleared his throat to elaborate.
"Little Raphael, in my thousand four hundred years serving the dragon council, Arnathus undoubtedly pronounced your alliance officially before petitioning your sire. Regardless of facts, you - the Calamity Demon - are now perceived as a Prulis mercenary auxiliary having accepted their largesse and taken one of their own as your consort in exchange for furthering their radical agenda."
"You cannot escape their influence, for the conservative and Aeril factions already view you as a sworn enemy. Of course, our draconic internal order remains transitory and nebulous - they could never wage total extermination against you. But expect most trading outposts to treat you as a pariah henceforth."
Raphael inwardly cursed the devious elders. "How was I to anticipate such underhanded machinations at the time!?"
Robert shook his head in commiseration. "I tried deflecting Arnathus and Rochester's persuasions, but you boarded their ship of your own accord, son. Do not fault me for the consequences."
However, Jenny remained undaunted, sidling up to nuzzle her son affectionately. "Fear not! Your mother stands with you, my treasure. And your uncle - a recently retired councilor himself - will surely help navigate these treacherous waters."
"Difficulties?" Raphael stared back bewildered, oblivious to the dire straits suddenly enveloping him.
Observing his son's clueless dismay, Robert felt simultaneously gratified that his offspring still required patriarchal guidance yet apprehensive over future exploitation of Raphael's inexperience.
Old Flame ambled forward to calmly explain the underlying realities.
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"You see, the Prulis faction advocate most extremist policies. Their founder Prulis originally proposed reclaiming draconic sovereignty over modern civilizations primarily to discourage the enslavement or poaching of our kind. But over the millennia their goals metastasized into a cancerous obsession with subjugating all other races as chattel slaves while seizing every last arable territory as their sole dominion."
"An untenable ambition doomed to internecine strife the instant we achieved such a Pyrrhic victory. Notions of 'cooperating to conquer then equitably partitioning realms' are utter delusions destined to tear us asunder from within over the spoils."
"Currently you may seem insignificant in their ploys. But rest assured, the Prulis fully intend to incrementally capitalize upon your rising influence, sacrificing you as expendable vanguard foot soldiers to bear the brunt of genocidal reprisals from the civilized races while they greedily covet usurping your own hard-won territories."
Old Flame fell silent, allowing the grim revelations to sink in as Raphael stared back aghast, speechless for long moments while struggling to process this Byzantine intrigues.
"Two questions," he finally replied, turning an intent gaze upon his wizened uncle.
"Proceed."
"First - what if I sever all ties with the Prulis once I've attained what I desire? I can still accomplish this, can I not?"
Old Flame chuckled mordantly. "Then you shall have utterly alienated your sole remaining allies, nephew. Your abrupt return clearly indicates you've encountered difficulties in Strongspine beyond your current capabilities and now seek outside intervention, does it not?"
Raphael's expression darkened, suddenly comprehending deeper connotations.
Despite his present ambivalence towards the Prulis, past events evidenced his overreliance on external support due to trepidations over human military capabilities glimpsed even against pitiful Morrian adversaries.
Surveying viable alternatives able to resonate with his own monumental endeavors while possessing commensurate might to counter human interference...only dragon factions appeared remotely feasible.
Surely not some reeking bestial tribe?
Yet this very mentality implied negotiating from an increasingly supplicant position seeking the Prulis's indulgences rather than the reverse - a dynamic shift distinctly unfavorable to Raphael's own sovereignty over proceedings.
"You would have me subjugated under foreign jurisdiction?" He bristled at the implication, crimson aura flaring momentarily in outraged denial. "Never shall I debase myself begging alienated kin! I'd sooner abandon Strongspine, evacuating its plundered riches back to our ancestral fortress to live out forgotten obscurity in gilded isolation!"
Yet even as the melodramatic proclamation burst forth, Raphael recognized such extremism as neither practical nor desirable for his long-term ambitions requiring expanded reach and influence.
Old Flame observed his anguished nephew's tormented dithering with paternal amusement.
"Do you perceive now? From the moment you accepted their 'gifts' despite intervening misunderstandings and setbacks, your external forays into the world triggered this inescapable conundrum. You cannot help but solicit Prulis intervention due to overwhelming existential pressures...unless reneging upon all you have achieved thus far. Yet in doing so, humanity's implacable vendetta against you remains unresolved through solitary opposition."
"There is one final prospect..."
Raphael stared with his dragon eyes wide open, emitting a dazzling golden glow:
"If I had enough power to drive away the invaders by myself without any aid from start to finish, wouldn't that be better?"
"Is that so?" Old Flame smiled at Raphael who still wanted to go against the current. "Then why did you come back?"
"I came back to..." Raphael was instantly speechless.
"So face reality. You must go negotiate with them reasonably, so things can proceed smoothly," Old Flame said.
"Then you..." Raphael asked with respectful doubt.
Old Flame nodded, "Correct, my sister asked me to come and discuss how to negotiate with the Pfizer clan, to help prevent you from being deceived. I was originally studying a map to go to Mount Ingg, but since you came yourself, it saves me the trouble."
"That's right, good boy." Jenny continued linking arms with Raphael. "My brother is a very experienced dragon councilor. Most of the major dragons in the council are on good terms with him, so he can definitely contribute help to your endeavors."
Robert had a complex expression: "Originally I wanted to help you myself. Back then, I had connections with many of the current major dragon councilors. Unfortunately, there are even more councilors who are at odds with me. They would love to demote me to a criminal dragon and expel me from the continent. So I had to ask for help from your uncle Old Flame."
Raphael looked at his 2,000-year-old uncle. In terms of sheer strength, perhaps Raphael could blow him away with just one white light breath.
But many things could not be resolved by brute force alone, so he had to open his mouth:
"Will you help me then? Uncle?"
Old Flame smiled wittily, "I think an old fellow like me without a mate, offspring, or even a desire to manage a territory would not refuse a request from his own nephew."
Raphael had a complex look, unsure if this was the right choice. Perhaps he should have waited for the humans to attack first before considering outside aid, but would there be time then?
...
In the Natterian Imperial Capital Council Hall.
The Human United Congress had been going on for a few days. The first part had concluded, and all nations now fully understood the origin, development, and disastrous consequences of the Dragon Calamity at Mount Ingg. The projected one-hour radius, 1,000 km strike range made the Ryton Kingdom and Kaluk shudder, feeling a sword hanging over their heads.
They temporarily set aside their disputes and decided to focus their efforts on solving this problem first, as their own safety was the top priority over any other scheming.
"Then the next topic for our discussion is 'The deployment of each nation's troops and the command and supply issues.'" After Prince Eucerolot said this, he stepped down directly from the central chairman's podium, as he was not adept at military matters.
He was replaced by an officer from the Imperial General Staff.
"Ladies and gentlemen, let me first explain Natterian's plan," he said, dressed in a gray staff uniform with black and gray hair slicked back. He used a long command cane to gesture at the large map hanging high above.
"First, the troops we plan to deploy are two fully formed land army corps and a half artillery corps. They are currently concentrated in Potan City on the western border under the command of General Cornet of the General Headquarters, where they have been training for several months. Their morale is sufficient to ensure they can engage in frontline combat."
Natterian's corps organization consisted of 20,000 troops, equipped with 500 field magic-crystal cannons, each cannon requiring four artillerymen to operate. Even a half corps would have its 1,000 missing personnel filled with infantry or cavalry, so 60,000 Natterian soldiers on the frontline could be guaranteed.
The military experts of various nations immediately began whispering with their diplomats or princes, as transporting and providing logistics for 60,000 Natterian troops marching all the way to Mount Ingg would be an immense challenge. Morey lacked rail transport, so their military expenditures would face a significant additional burden.
"Fraser, Natterian won't be expecting us to foot that bill, will they?"
After hearing Carl's analysis in a low voice, Lace worriedly asked the prime minister, realizing the concept of deploying an expanded corps thousands of miles away in this era.
Fraser thought for a moment, gritted his teeth and replied, "If it's just money, probably not. But I estimate they will demand civilian labor from Morey."
He added, "However, food will become a scarce resource soon. We control quite a few grain fields and warehouses in Morey, so perhaps we can profit from them to relieve pressure on the national treasury."
"Ah? Grain prices? Profiting?" Lace didn't expect Fraser to think so far ahead, already planning to hoard grain for profiteering.
Not far away, a Ryton military officer spoke up, "Is this the extent of the Imperial forces being committed? Will the United Corps not join the battlefield?"
The Natterian staff officer glanced at the blue-eyed blond Ryton man and continued,
"We will also call up two full corps worth of reservists to join the rear forces. They will be stationed at the safest yet closest location to the battlefield, ready for deployment at any time. As for the United Corps, they will not participate in this campaign."
The concept of rear forces was a basic principle, not just splitting one military into two parts. It established a force that could constantly replenish lost personnel, preventing being overwhelmed by the enemy due to losses.
"This three-to-two ratio seems a bit excessive…"
The Ryton officers looked at each other, perplexed. Generally, the ratio of combat to rear troops was three-to-seven. It was clear the Natterian Empire did not view the evil dragons as human.
"However, this is just a localized battle, so allocating additional rear forces is already quite generous," a Ryton man realized after considering that this was not a total war against the orcs, so defensive forces were unnecessary.
"This is the extent of the Imperial forces to be committed. Next, I hope each of you can inform us of the exact troop commitments from your own nations," the staff officer said, looking around.
"Let's start with the Kingdom of Morey." He looked towards where Lace was sitting.