Roland Dain did not land at the outer aerie, where the wind usually whistled through the high perches nor did he did stable his griffin with the practiced care of a weary rider upon his arrival. Instead, he descended directly into the capital's central courtyard, the beast's talons skidding and sparking against the pristine white stone.
Guards shouted, their voices rising in a confused cacophony. He ignored them. His boots hit stone with a heavy, metallic ring before his griffon's wings had fully folded.
"Vice Commander—!" one officer began, stepping forward with a hand raised. Roland was already moving, a blur of silver plate and road grit. He pushed through the palace entrance without slowing, the heavy oak doors yielding to his momentum. Servants scattered like startled birds. Royal guards stepped forward, their spears leveled.
"Halt!"
He did not. A mailed hand grabbed his shoulder, fingers digging into the joints of his shoulder. Roland pivoted and drove his elbow into the man's visor with a sickening crunch of metal on bone. The guard collapsed out cold. Another barred his path with a halberd, the steel gleaming in the torchlight. Roland shoved it aside, shoulder-checking him into a marble pillar with a force that rattled the guards' bones.
Since the beginning he refused to draw his sword. He did not want blood being spilled inside the palace. But no matter what, he would not be stopped. He had to hurry and deliver the report himself. He did not have time to wait and go through the regular procedures. He had to tell the king. Tell them all. High Valmere had changed. A dragon has made its territory around the city and had burned a griffin out of the sky and had left his captain injured and broken.
Two elite palace sentries crossed blades before the throne chamber doors, their faces grim behind their visors.
"Stand down, Vice Commander," one warned, his voice echoing in the vaulted hall. Roland did not slow.
"Move."
They did not. He moved first. A brutal palm strike hit one of the sentries in his throat. A sweep to the knee of the other guard. Both crumpled, one gasping for air that wouldn't come and the other one holding his ruined knee. Roland shoved the doors open. They slammed inward with thunderous force, the sound booming through the vast chamber.
The throne room froze. Nobles, mid-conversation, stared in shock. Advisors mid-argument fell silent. Petitioners' mid-bow remained doubled over. At the far end—King Aldric IV, seated upon the raised dais, a figure of absolute, terrifying stillness.
Guards rushed towards Roland from all directions, swords rasping from sheaths. Roland dropped to one knee in the center of the chamber, the sound of his armor hitting the floor like a hammer strike.
"Your Majesty," he said, breathing hard but voice-controlled.
The King regarded him coolly, his eyes like chips of ice. "Vice Commander Roland Dain. You appear to have misplaced palace etiquette."
Roland did not apologize. "I just arrived with urgent news from High Valmere."
The room quieted until the only sound was the crackle of the hearth. The King's gaze sharpened slightly. "What news?"
"A dragon was seen in High Valmere's vicinity and has even attacked Captain Elowen Virelle and her griffon."
Murmurs erupted instantly, a wave of disbelief washing over the court. Roland raised his voice, cutting through the noise. "It burned griffon and left her injured and broken."
Silence crashed down like a physical weight.
"Captain Virelle was found in the streets by the city's healer," Roland continued, jaw tightening as he pictured her hollow eyes, "but she is mentally unresponsive and severely burned."
The King's fingers tapped once against the armrest of his throne, a rhythmic, predatory sound. "A dragon, you say?" he repeated calmly.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Was it rampaging?"
Roland hesitated, the memory of the city still standing flashing in his mind. "No Sire."
That caused more murmuring than the first declaration.
"It attacked Captain Virelle," Roland clarified, "but did not burn down the city. Even the forest on the city's outskirts were still standing."
The King leaned forward slightly, the light of the chandeliers catching the gold of his crown. "Have you seen this dragon? If so, where is this dragon now?"
"I have not seen it Sire, but reports from the citizens say that it is still around High Valmere."
"Were those reports from eye witnesses?"
"Yes."
"Was it disturbed? Angered?"
Roland's brow tightened. "I do not know."
"You don't know."
"I went to High Valmere after receiving a message from the captain saying to bring reinforcements. As soon as the men and I arrived, we went searching for her, only to be led to a clinic where she lay injured and unresponsive. After finding out what happened to her, I did not remain to investigate further as I believed this was a matter of urgency to report the dragon."
The King studied him carefully, measuring the man's anger and grief against his sense of duty. "What else did you observe?"
Roland inhaled slowly, the scent of palace incense cloying in his throat. "Before departing, I saw the remnants of a massive column of smoke rising from outside the city."
"A fire?"
"That is what it looked like Sire."
"But you did not confirm its source."
"No, Your Majesty."
The King leaned back slightly. "So." He spoke slowly, letting each word hang in the air. "A dragon was seen flying over one of my cities. A griffin captain from one of my knight orders was maimed and you mention the remnants of a smoke column could be seen from outside the city. Yet you cannot confirm whether all these events are connected?"
Roland's jaw tightened until it ached. "No, Your Majesty."
"And what do you recommend I do?"
Roland's fists clenched against his thighs. "I ask that you order for the Griffin Order to deploy in strength and secure High Valmere."
There it was—the weight behind his urgency. The King regarded him for a long moment. "You forced your way into my throne room, incapacitated some of my guards and now you dare stand before me to ask that I mobilize the whole order?"
Roland held his gaze, unblinking. "I beg you Sire."
The throne room held its breath. The King was silent for several long moments, his face an unreadable mask. Then— "No."
The word was calm. Unshaken. Roland stiffened as if he'd been struck.
"Your Majesty?"
"You will not be mobilized."
Murmurs erupted again, louder this time. The King raised a hand. Silence returned instantly.
"You report a dragon that was seen flying over a city," the King continued. "You mention a single direct attack against a military officer that, I presume, went ahead of their own volition and challenged it. Then there is the question of the column of smoke, where you don't even know it's origin." He leaned forward slightly. "I will not send the Griffin Order in a situation where we lack information. I will not risk starting a greater conflict over a possible misunderstanding, nor will I be the king remembered as being crazy enough to wage war with a dragon!"
Roland's jaw tightened. "With respect—"
"SILENCE," the King roared, his voice like thunder. "You are emotionally compromised. You barge in this throne room to seek retribution."
Roland did not deny it. The King's gaze hardened slightly. "I seek the end of that monstrosity."
Silence.
"If a dragon is present and is not destroying my territory, then it is either territorial and the Captain went where she shouldn't… or it is smart enough to not kill indiscriminately." The court shifted at that, the implications rippling through the room. "And if it is intelligent," the King continued, "then what is happening in High Valmere is no longer a simple situation that force might fix."
Roland felt heat rise in his chest, a burning frustration. "Your Majesty, my captain—"
"Is alive," the King said firmly. "And until I know whether this dragon is intelligent, territorial, or, gods help us, tied to a local power—" His voice sharpened slightly. "I will not gamble the Order on your vendetta!"
The words struck hard. Roland lowered his head slowly, his teeth clenched. "I understand, Your Majesty."
The King leaned back. "I will dispatch an envoy." Shock rippled through the nobles. "To observe and assess what truly occurred in that city and why." He paused. "And Roland?"
"Yes."
"You will remain in the capital." That stung more than the refusal. "You will compose a full written report. I want every detail you can remember." Another pause. "And you will be confined to the barracks and are here by stripped of your position as Vice Captain of the griffon order until further notice."
The dismissal was absolute. Roland rose slowly. Bowed. And turned to leave. Behind him, the throne room resumed its murmurs. A dragon spotted in High Valmere and a griffin knight attacked and burned with smoke rising from outside the city. these events are no longer contained within the city region. Now the crown is watching closely.
The great doors closed behind Roland Dain with a deep, echoing thud. For a brief moment, the throne room remained still, the silence ringing in the ears of the courtiers. Then it fractured.
Voices rose all at once. Nobles stood abruptly, silks and medals clinking as they argued over one another. "A dragon within our borders—!" "And we do nothing?" "A griffin captain crippled!" "This is a humiliation!"
Marshal Thorne's halberd struck the marble floor with a sharp crack. "We should mobilize the Order immediately, Your Majesty."
Chancellor Merrow stepped forward, more measured but no less concerned. "If word spreads unchecked, fear will spread with it."
The chamber grew louder with speculation and accusation. Fear disguised as outrage. Through it all, King Aldric IV remained seated, watching and listening. He let them speak. Let them expose their cowardice. Only when the noise reached its peak did he lift one hand.
The gesture was small but the silence that followed was absolute.
"A dragon," Aldric said calmly, "appeared in High Valmere." No one dared interrupt. "It attacked one of our captains." A pause. "But it did not raze the city."
The statement lingered. That detail mattered. "If destruction had been its aim," the King continued, "High Valmere would be history right now."
Murmurs returned, but softer now.
"You mean, it was after something else, Your Majesty?" one noble pressed carefully.
"I acknowledge its restraint," Aldric corrected. His gaze drifted across the gathered court. "Vice Commander Dain reported that there was no citywide devastation and there were no signs that it went on a rampage. It only attacked a single individual."
"And then there is the column of smoke," Marshal Thorne added.
"Yes." Aldric's eyes narrowed slightly. "It came from an unknown origin." He leaned back slightly in his throne. "If I deploy the Griffon Order blindly into a situation I do not understand, I risk turning a possible misunderstanding into a war."
The words settled heavily. Chancellor Merrow spoke carefully. "You believe the dragon may not be alone?"
"I believe," Aldric replied, "that something prevented it from acting further." That thought shifted the atmosphere in the room. Prevented. Or directed.
"High Valmere has seen unusual economic movement recently," the King continued. " Some spies say there was the construction of a private estate on the outskirts of the city. They mentioned seeing fortifications being built around it and the city was buzzing about a group of mercenaries that arrived a few weeks back." A few nobles exchanged uneasy glances. "That kind of construction does not happen without reason."
Marshal Thorne frowned. "You suspect Baron Edrin is behind this?"
"I suspect nothing," Aldric replied evenly. "I only say what I notice."
Silence returned. "If a dragon now exists within my borders and has chosen a limited display of force," the King continued, "then we must determine whether it is a threat to this kingdom… or an opportunity."
The court shifted again — not in fear this time, but in calculation.
"What are your orders, Your Majesty?" Chancellor Merrow asked.
"Dispatch an envoy to High Valmere."
"To investigate?"
"To observe," Aldric corrected. "To extend concern for Captain Elowen Virelle and to quietly assess the Baron's recent dealings."
Marshal Thorne hesitated. "And if the dragon is bound to someone?"
Aldric's gaze hardened slightly. "Then I would very much like to know to whom." He rose slowly from his throne. The movement alone commanded silence. "No army moves until I understand the board." His eyes swept across the chamber. "If a new power rises within this kingdom, it will either kneel to the crown… or else."
The unspoken alternative lingered in the air. The court understood. High Valmere was no longer just a provincial city. It became the center of attention for all the forces of the kingdom.
+++++++
Far from the capital, in the dim-lit study of his repaired manor, Aleric sat across from Baron Edrin. The scent of smoke still lingered faintly in the air, a bitter reminder of yesterday's violence, even after the cleanup.
Outside, the last of the enemy dead had been reduced to ash by Fafnir's flame. The pits were sealed—the armor of fallen knights catalogued and stacked in ordered rows. The grounds, though scarred, were secure once more.
Inside, the conversation had shifted. Baron Edrin's composure was intact but not untouched. He understood power and now understood that Aleric possessed it in terrifying abundance.
Yet Aleric's voice, when he spoke, was calm. "Relax, I have no intention of taking High Valmere."
Edrin studied him carefully. "With what you command… You could."
"I was attacked," Aleric replied simply. "I retaliated." There was no arrogance in his tone. No hunger for violence. "The griffin ignored my warning," he continued. "So I gave him a lesson."
A faint tightening passed through the Baron's jaw at the word lesson.
"I do not kill unprovoked," Aleric added. "That is my only rule."
Silence lingered.
"If I am treated with respect, I return respect. If I am treated with kindness, I return kindness." His gaze did not waver. "But if I am met with hostility…"
He did not need to finish. The sea of corpses that was had been scattered outside had already finished that sentence. Baron Edrin exhaled slowly. "You could have taken control of the city yesterday," he admitted. "Many in your position would have."
"I don't want the city." Aleric's eyes drifted briefly toward the window. "I want to be left alone."
That answer surprised the Baron more than anything else. Left alone? After commanding a dragon's fire? After annihilating a noble's army?
But Aleric's mind was elsewhere. It was beyond politics, land and titles. He only wanted to understand this new world, but most of all, he wanted to stay in control of his fate.
The battle had changed something in him. He could feel it in the way his pulse slowed after the battle, leaving behind a cold, crystalline clarity. It was not merely confidence. This was something deeper. Combat had sharpened him and clarified him. It had burned away the hesitation to kill he still carried from his last life. Yet something inside him felt like it was missing.
"I need time," he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the crackle of the dying fire. "To understand what I've been given and how to properly use it."
Baron Edrin said nothing, sensing the shift in tone, his eyes fixed on the young man who had just rewritten the rules of the city.
Aleric's thoughts turned inward. Athena. Fafnir. Fenrir. Each of them bore seals. Limitations placed upon them by this world. He had accepted the explanation at first — that their full manifestation would be catastrophic. That the world itself would break should they use it all. But now… Doubt lingered.
What if the limitation was not the world? What if it was him?
Compared to him, they were apex beings. They were ancient. Vast. Overwhelming. He, on the other hand, was just a mortal and their summoner. The bridge through which they entered this world. Summoning entities of that magnitude required an equilibrium. If their restraints were ever lifted— Would the strain tear the land apart? Or would it tear him apart? Would his body withstand it? Would his mind?
Aleric folded his hands together. He did not crave dominion or a throne. He craved mastery of himself, of the power entrusted to him and perhaps— One day— Of the restraints that bound his summons.
Baron Edrin finally spoke, the sound of his voice pulling Aleric back to the dimly lit room. "What do we do if the crown sends someone to investigate?"
"They definitely will," Aleric replied without hesitation. That alone told the Baron much.
"And when they do?" Edrin pressed, his voice tight with the weight of the future.
Aleric's gaze sharpened slightly. "I will treat them exactly how they treat me."
No more. No less.
The world had made its move. The Crown was observing and Aleric was preparing. He looked out into the darkness of the courtyard, where the ashes of his enemies were already being scattered by the wind.