The dragon walked beside him, tail flicking lazily, wings folded like cloaks of living flame. Its every step sent ripples through the stone road. And yet, Theo strode like a man on parade—not like one who had barely survived an assassination attempt.
Behind them, the people parted.
No one blocked the way. No one dared.
They bowed. They whispered.
"He didn't burn…""The dragon knelt to him…""A god? A devil?""No… a Duke. The Dragon Duke."
Theo's estate—the Capital Manor—had never felt so alive. Guards stood like statues. Servants didn't meet his eyes. His inner circle waited at the door, pale-faced, tense.
Elric was first to speak.
"By the gods… it hatched. In front of everyone."
"And it saved your life," Lira added, staring at the creature. "You're not going to tell me this was all part of your plan, right?"
Theo exhaled, smirking as he swept past them.
"What can I say? Even destiny can't resist my charm."
He stepped into his study, the dragon curling quietly near the fireplace like a content cat that could devour a knight in one bite.
Interlude: The Night Before the Summons
The crackling of the hearth was the only sound in the chamber.
The walls of the manor—once drafty and old—now stood warm with polished oak and velvet drapes, but there was a storm in the air that no fire could burn away.
Theo sat in the great chair, robe unfastened, a decanter of old wine by his side. Across from him, Lira, Elric, and Cassian sat in a semi-circle, the dragon curled behind Theo like a cat atop a throne of embers.
Its eyes were closed, but every now and then, the flames beneath its translucent scales pulsed… like a heartbeat.
"I'm going to ask," Lira said finally, arms folded. "Because it's bothering the hell out of me."
Theo raised a brow, swirling his wine.
"Go ahead."
"That dragon—hatched this morning. And it's already the size of a grown man. No beast grows that fast. Not even with magic. So what the hell is it?"
Theo didn't answer immediately. He reached into a small lacquered box near the table and pulled out a worn leather-bound book—its edges browned with age, the title long faded.
"When I took over the Ducal Library, I found this rotting under a pile of accounts from three generations ago," he said softly. "A tome on draconic ancestry. Half-myth, half-study. Some written in Old Valebourne tongue."
Cassian leaned in. "And?"
Theo opened it, fingers tracing a sketch of a dragon in ink that shimmered faintly with magic.
"Dragons," he said quietly, "aren't beasts. They're not even animals in the traditional sense. They're concepts given form. Born not of flesh—but of mana."
"Before they hatch, they feed on their mother's mana. Pure arcane essence passed down across centuries. And after birth? They feed on the ether of the land, the mana of the world itself."
Lira blinked. "So they're like…"
"Beings of pure magic," Theo nodded. "The flesh they wear? It's just clothing. A body to interact with our world. But their essence is something older. Vast."
Elric leaned back, rubbing his jaw.
"So we're babysitting a walking mana core?"
Theo's smile was slow, dangerous.
"We're guarding a god in chrysalis."
A log snapped in the hearth.
The dragon stirred, opened one amber eye, and let out a low growl that made the wine in their cups tremble.
Lira looked over at it warily. "And it follows you."
"Not just follows," Theo said, eyes gleaming. "It chose me."
"Why?" Cassian asked.
Theo looked into the fire for a moment, contemplative.
"Maybe it sensed my mana. Maybe my ambition. Or maybe…"
He paused, the flames reflecting in his eyes.
"Maybe it was always meant to hatch in a kingdom that's dying."
That Same Night – The Diplomatic Intrusion
It was well past midnight.
The halls were dim. The dragon slept by the hearth, flickering softly with its own inner light.
Theo sat upright, eyes wide open, rehearsing speeches like a general studies terrain before battle.
Then—three knocks.
Not his guards. Not his men.
Foreign voices slipped past the wooden door as two cloaked figures entered, hoods drawn low.
One from the Northern Empire of Vrosk, cloaked in glacier-silk and wolf pelts.
One from the Sable Federation, glittering with rings and desert dust.
"We come not to judge," said the man from Sable, bowing. "But to offer."
"Your kingdom rejects you," the Vroskian added. "We would have you, Dragon Duke."
They came with promises.
Land.
Fleets.
Gold.
"You'll never be safe here," one said. "Come. Rule as you should. Burn their thrones and build your own."
Theo sat at the head of his table, the dragon's quiet breaths behind him like the rhythm of a war drum.
"Tempting," he said at last. "But I'm not ready to walk away. Not yet. There are debts I still intend to collect."
"Then what would you ask, if not asylum?"
He tapped the rim of his glass twice.
"Two things."
"First—if I fall, raise hell. Let the Crown and the Church know that my death is more expensive than my life."
"Second—should I rise, you will recognize the next ruler of Valebourne."
He looked at them, his voice sharpening.
"Princess Celene."
That silenced them.
"She's not like her father. She's got a spine, and a soul. That's more than most kings."
The envoys exchanged glances.
And nodded.
The pact was sealed.
The Next Morning – The Square
Dawn spilled like blood across the sky.
Thousands had gathered in the central square. Soldiers lined the edges. High Flame priests in crimson stood like statues. King Albrecht loomed on his balcony, stone-faced.
And in the center, the scaffold.
But Theo didn't come in chains.
He walked.
Clad in robes of black and royal blue, the dragon beside him, smoke curling lazily from its nostrils.
"You're late," a cleric snapped.
"You're early," Theo replied, brushing past him as he mounted the platform.
The crowd murmured.
Some booed.
Some cheered.
Then Theo raised his hand.
Silence.
No magic. Just presence.
"I was summoned here to be judged."
"But who judges the man who feeds the starving, while priests drink from golden goblets?"
"Who condemns a man who reveals truth, while kings hide behind gilded lies?"
The silence thickened.
"They call me heretic."
He gestured behind him.
"But if the gods were displeased… why did this beast of legend rise for me?"
"Because the gods are tired."
"Tired of cowards. Of thieves in robes. Of kings who rule like leeches."
He turned his gaze to the balcony.
"And if this kingdom must burn—then let it be reborn in fire."
He faced the people now. His people.
"I, Theodric of House Aldercrest, call for the abdication of King Albrecht."
Gasps.
"And I name Princess Celene as rightful heir."
"Not for her blood—but because she still remembers what justice smells like."
"And if any soul here dares to deny her—or me—"
He stepped back.
The dragon stepped forward.
"Then come. And face the fire."