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Far in the western reaches of the Dravareth Empire, the mood within the grand throne room was as cold as the winds that swept its black stone spires. Ministers stood in solemn ranks beneath the looming pillars, their expressions wary as the echo of their voices drifted up to the vaulted ceiling.
Upon the obsidian throne sat Emperor Kaelthar Morvalis, his crimson eyes steady, his presence alone silencing idle murmurs.
One of the younger ministers stepped forward, bowing deeply.
"Your Majesty… this tale of a dragon granting wishes is nothing more than a myth. There is no such thing."
An older minister, his hair silvered with age and wisdom, countered in a low, steady voice.
"No, Your Majesty. It is no myth. The Dragon who can grant any wish does exist. A thousand years ago, when dragons ruled the skies, there was one—The Dragon King—capable of granting a single wish in exchange for a sacrifice."
He paused, his gaze distant as if reliving the ancient memory.
"When greed swept the world, empires rose against the Dragon King, seeking to claim him. In the end, only three empires remained: Velmoria, Dravareth, and Solvarith."
The room grew still. Even Kaelthar's fingers tightened faintly on the armrest.
"But the King of Velmoria acted swiftly. Instead of trying to bind the dragon, he made a wish."
The old man's voice deepened, almost reverent as he recited the ancient words of King Aldric Therald.
'Dragon King, come to my empire not as a weapon, but as a silence. Turn yourself into a marble, and my bloodline will protect you. Only one of my blood can release you again.'
The Dragon King's reply had been just as solemn:
'Is that your wish?'
'Yes,' the king answered.
'What will you sacrifice?'
'My life.'
And so, the Dragon King sealed himself within a marble, and the King of Velmoria gave his life in the same breath.
The old minister's voice returned to the present.
"The bloodline of the Velmorian kings still guards that marble to this day."
Kaelthar leaned back, eyes narrowing.
"So, to release the Dragon… we must first find the marble."
"Yes, Your Majesty," the minister affirmed.
A faint scoff left the Emperor's lips.
"Do you think it will be that simple? The current King of Velmoria is no ordinary man. Eyan Lucien Therald is vicious, unyielding, and strong enough to tear through an army alone. Do you imagine I would march to war with Velmoria for the sake of a dragon?"
The room fell silent—until a voice broke the stillness from beside the throne.
"May I speak, Father?"
Kaelthar's gaze softened slightly. "You may, my son."
Prince Velco Morvalis stepped forward, his tone calm yet calculated.
"Father, you do not need to wage war to claim the Dragon. You can have it without a single battle."
One of the ministers frowned. "Your Highness—how could that be?"
Velco's eyes gleamed faintly. "I will go to Velmoria myself. I will extend a hand of friendship and remain there for months. While they welcome me as an ally, I will search for the marble… and when I find it, the Dragon will be ours."
The old minister hesitated before warning, "Your Highness… to release the Dragon, you will need the blood of Eyan Lucien Therald."
Kaelthar studied his son carefully. "And do you truly believe Eyan would ever give you his blood?"
Velco's lips curved into a faint, confident smile.
"He will, Father. I only need to find his weakness."
"And if he has none?" Kaelthar's tone was testing.
Velcon's voice dropped to a whisper. "Father Everyone bleeds. Even kings. You just have to know where to cut."
Kaelthar's silence lingered before he finally spoke.
"Very well, my son. We have received an invitation to the birthday banquet of the Velmorian King. You will attend in my place."
Velco bowed, his smile sharpened with purpose. "Thank you, Father."
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