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3 yrs ago
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3 yrs ago
What if *I* was the small creature all along?
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O . O staring
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OooooooOooOOOOooooooOOOOOooOoooooooOOooOOOOoooOo
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6 yrs ago
V.1.26 (House of Caecilius Iucundus); 4091: Whoever loves, let him flourish. Let him perish who knows not love. Let him perish twice over whoever forbids love.
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"Fine, fine," Kutur said, only half listening. Kali was especially chatty today, it seems. Maybe she felt as nervous as he did. The ridiculous nickname stung, though. In the days of his studies, when he trained, as many others did, under the guiding hand of the Bythesea Archmage, he had taken a human name. Alexius Lionus Garrakus, it was. It was a name he wore with pride, for it told the world that he was a peer to some of the greatest wielders of the arcane found in the world. Kut . . . he'd rather not, but he wasn't about to say anything to Kali. Perhaps he should stop thinking about it.

He went over to the riverside and put a toe in, but pulled his foot back with a squeak. The water was a bit cold for his taste. "If you would . . . sorry, but . . . " he muttered, waving his hand in a vague indication for her to give him a bit of space. When he felt comfortable, he rubbed his hands together. Sparks of flame leaped out of his fingers, jumping to the ground. Kutur felt, as he always did, the primordial forces coursing through his frail body, and he knew that such power would never be his. He is but a road, redirecting the power instead of generating it. The thought made him feel both small and important at the same time. With a hiss, he pushed the flames out of his hands, and they erupted into a wild inferno that licked at the water like a thirsty dragon. He then gingerly stepped back into the water. It was still cold.

"Apologies, I interrupted you. What was it you were saying again?"
" . . . Very well. Return when the meeting with the envoy takes place," commanded Rughoi, and Kali zipped out of the room, Kutur in tow, surprisingly quickly.

"It's nice, isn't it?" Ardasa said, watching them go. "Look, how in the absence of war, our citizens could find time to enjoy themselves, to go out and play. You could learn a thing or two from that." She hoped her mate heard that comment. He was always working on one project after another, without any stop between. First it was the balcony, which simply had to be made of stone. Next it was enforcing the tax plan. On and on it went.

"We cannot match larger races in terms of size and strength," Rughoi countered. "Only in our minds are we superior. It is natural to find purpose in work, for that sets one apart from lesser creatures."

"Nonsense! Scen gave us joy so that we may seek more of it," exclaimed Ardasa, smirking in her knowledge of how to goad her bound one. He was raised religious, and he would be all his life without doubt. "If we had the wood, I would have lovely docks built lining the rivers. Imagine it, will you? Strong kobolds rowing their lovers out to the soft whistling of the current . . . "

"I have plenty of docks," Rughoi said, sniffing.

"Army ports don't count," Ardasa laughed. She went over and kissed Rughoi on the side of his snout.

"I suppose . . . " Rughoi sighed. "Still, the dracon emissaries. I wish they'd stop taking their damned time and hurry themselves up. The longer they wait, the more inclined I feel about burning their city to the dirt."

"Wagons won't teleport, silly. Give them time." Ardasa said. "We have nothing to worry about, honestly."
@KatherinWinter Awww. My character's whole identity hinges on him being from a pre-renaissance age. There are plenty of fantasy ways of staying in contact. Crystal balls, psychic mind links, message birds, that sort of stuff.
Riley gasped softly. What did this mean? Was it a sign that other humans have been here? Could there be stranded people, like her, who've either found an escape or are looking for one? Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud thump, jarring her from her inner monologue. She looked over to where she thought the sound was coming from, and saw a horror that stopped her breath in her throat. It was a gigantic creature, without any shape resembling that life existed within. An uncountable amount of thick tendrils reached out, feeling her and there on the shelves and adding books where there was space. Desperate, she concentrated best she could on the page, getting the rhyme well memorized.

"Run!" she whispered, grabbing Nina and legging it for one of the shelves. She pushed aside two books and tossed Nina into the gap. Then, she clambered in, whispering the words of the rhyme like a prayer. When she finished, she grabbed one of Nina's paws, hoping despite everything that the spell would work.
(A work done by @MrDidact and (I? Me?). Thanks buddy!)

The day began on a brighter note today, at least. The sun peered shyly over the curtain of mist, its rays attempting in vain to pierce through the dense fog. Frados found himself already awake, yet not entirely, half-listening to Arillos convey everything he knew about the guests and their behaviors. He slept light as of late, never knowing when he had to be ready for an invasion that outnumbered his garrison tens or hundreds to one. Still, for now, the visitors are not causing any trouble. He nodded as Arillos finished his report, then sent him away. It won't be long before Lindsay and the guests wake.

Daeron, being nobly born, was given a suite of his own while the rest of the men had to contend with shared quarters. Daeron was also the first to wake. He was anxious, wishing to quickly cement Frados' commitment to their cause, and not knowing if he could do so. The young lady seemed sympathethic to their side, but it was the old Lord Regent that he had to convince. He had to find some way to swing Frados to their side. The Roxtons were well-positioned, and would be able to help control travel between the Reach and the Crownlands. With them on their side, they could help stifle any march from either direction by Green forces. But the Greens already had some of the most powerful houses in the province on their side. It would take quite a bit to convince Roxton to risk himself in the face of that.

The young knight got dressed in clothes more suitable to formal meetings, though he still wore darker fabrics with no device or distinguishing color to them, the only adornment being his Velaryon pin. He checked his boot and made sure his holdout was still in place. He left the room and found his own men, almost all abed save Longjon, who nodded at him. Together they roused the rest and were ready and presentable. Doubtless their host would soon gather them to break their fast. This would be another chance to talk.

"Lords and Sers, to your meal," said Arillos, bowing low to the little party and gesturing down the corridors. He led them through to the dining hall, where Frados and Lindsay sat, their korzion board as always sitting between them. Frados looked up at the group as they entered.

"Good morn, I hope you've had a refreshing night," he said, turning back to the board.

"Could you help uncle with his play? Without it, he's going to lose in three moves," Lindsay giggled, under Frados' withering glare.

Daeron brightened, smiling, "Korizon? I didn't think the game was very popular outside of the Crownlands. My father taught me when I was very young. It's been a while since I played but..." He glanced over the the board, noting the positions of each piece and feeling the old strategems coming back to him, "Ah my dear lord Frados, the young lady has you in quite a pickle. However, Lady Lindsay is brilliant and bold in her moves, but doesn't have a more experienced player's caution. Look closely my lord."

Daeron traded glances with Lindsay and smiled at her, settling down to watch as the boys all sat at the table and made small talk.

Frados rested his head in his palm while Lindsay huffed. She was not inexperienced! Her skills with games such as these were unmatched in the castle! Then she stopped, and gave a sly grin, bordering on wicked. "Well, I have much to learn, Ser. If you would kindly sit down and teach me a few strategies, it would be valuable towards helping me grasp this game."

"Guest's move first," Frados chuckled. He'd seen this before. In his mind's eye, he saw a young Keles, so assured in his merchant ventures before being run out of Planky Town, sweating a storm under Lindsay's careful planning. So too did he remember Arillos, suffering a similar fate after spending his last silvers buying his freedom from the Fighting Pits and a charter to Westeros. Lindsay began resetting the pieces, and gestured to the opposite chair.

The young knight laughed, "Very well, who am I to deny my host. But I hope the young lady will be merciful, and offer quarter." He looked over the board, making eye contact with his even younger opponent and decided to play it safe. He would be prudent, advance methodically and safely. Most like the girl would prefer to move quickly, and may slip up. It was exactly the opposite of how he preferred to fight, but games resembled war very little, with their neat, ordered lines and luxurious pace. Not that Daeron had ever been in a true war, fighting sellswords and pirates in raids hardly counted.

But if there was one valuable lesson these games taught it was the psychology of battle. Daeron made his move, an unspectacular and safe tactic before letting his host continue. He spoke to Frados as he did, "I hope you've given some more thought to our proposition, my lord. I'm sure Ser Otto or one of his envoys came about to see you and try to persuade you to fall in line. But any coin or honors they can give you, we can match, I'm sure you know. The Sea Snake is the only man richer than the Hightowers and the Lannisters. And he can be quite generous to his friends."

Frados cut the knight off with a wave of his hand. "I've told Lindsay many times, and I'll tell you now. The table is no place for worries. Save those for the main hall. Outside of that, I must suggest you watch your left side." True enough, Lindsay was quickly advancing her pieces through, covering the left wall in an attempt to trap Daeron's stray outer pieces.

Daeron nodded, "Very well, your hall, your rules." He was right so far. Lindsay was bold, quick to pounce. He shored up his left side, as he should. But he left just enough of an opening to tempt an advance anyway. It may have seemed like innocent oversight from someone who had not played the game in some time. But it was something Corlys had taught him. Offer the enemy an oppurtunity, then turn it to your own advantage. He would see if Lindsay would take the bait. In the meantime, he kept advancing the rest of his formation of pieces methodically, with no hassle.

Lindsay could see what Daeron was up to. Ser Haraway had made the same move in the only game they played together. After, he had whimpered about how he was doing the chivalrous thing by letting the child win, then tended to make himself rather scarce when Lindsay showed up in a room, board in hand. She played a piece into the center, where she could catch the opening with a fork. Then, she faked a yawn, and pretended to be very interested in the glasswork behind Daeron's back. "You have two moves, Ser. Make the most of them," she said, acting as if she was very bored of him.

Hmm, not so foolhardy as she could have been. Interesting. Child players usually threw caution to the wind, the best managing to slaughter their way through the board before being taken out of play quickly. Daeron knew he had been so brash when he first started playing. Lindsay was different. Very well, then. He'd have to adjust.

Daeron moved to shore up the opening he had left. He had advanced slowly, but hadn't exposed himself. His lines were a tight, ordered cluster. The most likely thing would that Lindsay would chip away at him, or else try to force an opening at his flanks. She seemd confident at least. Daeron smiled, "Two moves? The lady is very assured of herself. I will strive to surprise."

He started to strike out on his right, heretofore mostly ignored, a cursory probe. He wanted to see how she would react. They went on for some time, trading moves, feints, and strikes as the sun continued to rise, Daeron finding himself surprisngly hard-pressed to contain his opponent. Until . . .

"Perhaps the battlefield would be more suited to your talents, Ser," Lindsay said, moving her center to capture Daeron's last triarch piece. "Let us play again sometime. You're far better than Ser Haraway, that I'm sure." She laughed, seeing Daeron's confused face. "But enough for now. Breakfast!" Servants sidled through the door, laying out many breads and cheeses.

The Velaryon knight smiled good-naturedly, "I gave as good as I got, but I must conceed victory to your ladyship." Lindsay was far better than he had thought a mainlander, a mainlander child even would be. He had come close, but he had been defeated with style, "A battlefield, a real battlefield is much different from a game, a soldier's instincts aren't as well served. Particularly against an opponent as formidable as yourself."

The boys dug in eagerly to the food, Daeron eating politely while making small-talk, "The tales of Reachman grain and cheeses are true. Surely, your lands are the richest in the kingdom in such matters. But perhaps, Lady Lindsay could some day experience the fare of Dirftmark or Dragonstone. On the islands, we have all the treasures of the sea at our disposal. And recipes dating back all the way before the Doom of Valyria. Seafood to best any other in Westeros or Essos, I assure you. Dining with the crash of the seas and the roaring of dragons to accompany it? Nothing quite tops that, in my humble opinion."

Lindsay's mind was afire with romantic images of soaring cliffs, dragons roosting at the top like majestic kings. "I would love nothing more," she said, mouth full of bread. An admonishing look from Frados made her quickly close her mouth back up with a sheepish look.

"That sounds lovely indeed, my good Ser Daeron," Frados said. He ate nothing of the meal. His stomach was already filled with stress. "But unfortunately, the two of us cannot stray too far from the castle. If there is no Roxton present to keep the Ring in check, I fear we may return to a less appealing home. You, as a leader of armies would understand best. Your captains work best when you are watching over them." There, unfortunately, was no diplomatic way to put off the starry-eyed knight, and he felt that dancing around the subject like he was would not get the point across to Ser Daeron.

Daeron nodded, "I understand that, Lord Frados. But should you enter the war, you most like would need to send Lady Lindsay away to a safer refuge, whether you choose Green or Black. Dragonstone is one of the most formidable fortresses in these lands, that is a fact. Should you declare for us, I swear on my honor as a knight and as a member of House Velaryon that no harm would befall her. Likewise, I can assure you that your friendship to the Queen and her Hand will be remembered and rewarded. My uncle has quite a bit of influence. Friends throughout the kingdom and the Free Cities. He can do great things for House Roxton."

Frados felt trapped. The walls, once keeping the room at an airy, open space, now seemed so much closer than before. "Erm . . . " he groaned, stumbling over his words. Lindsay said nothing, but her gaze told him everything. She wanted, no doubt, for him to take Daeron's offer. She is but young, and doesn't yet understand that honor, while all well and good, is not the primary deciding factor in war. "Yes, I think in time, both Lady Roxton and I would be able to visit the coveted spires of Dragonstone. In time, of course." Twenty, perhaps thirty years would do the trick nicely. "I think you have said your part, and said it well. You should be off to visit our neighbors soon. In due time, I shall send a raven to your Hand, Lord Corlys, stating my descision. Now, if you are of good heart, you would allow an old man his thoughts."

The young knight managed to keep his disappointment from his face. If Frados wasn't willing to commit now, the more likely it became over time that he would simply say no. He would fail. To the young man, such a prospect was incredibly disheartening but he soldiered on with a polite nod, "And you have been a very gracious host, my lord. And young Lady Lindsay has been the picture of charm and courtesy. I'm sure that when the time comes, she will be a great beauty and an excellent ruler."

He finished his food, standing up with a knightly bow to Lindsay and Frados, "No matter your decison, I'm glad to have come and made your acquantince. But I would be remiss if I didn't say that you have plenty of time to make a choice. House Tyrell has thus so far elected to remain neutral. So can you. If you do not wish to join us, I urge you to defend your lands and nothing more. I'm sure the Tyrells would be willing to foster Lady Lindsay if you wished to ensure her safety. Hopefully for all our sakes, brother and sister can find peace. If not, I believe neutrality is the best choice for your house, until you can consolidate your position."

Daeron looked at Lindsay then, "I cannot speak for my uncle, nor my king or queen. Not even the other members of my house. But on my honor, no matter your decison, I vow to not raise arms against the Ring or House Roxton, for the hospitality and friendship you have offered me. I swear it by all the gods, old and new, as well as the gods of my ancestors in Valyria." He bowed his head and left the room, his men following in step behind him.

This can't be the end already! Lindsay knew she had to speak to the fascinating knight one last time before he leaves. So when the party was assembling their supplies, ready to make way back to their islands, Lindsay, finding an opportune time when her uncle was well occupied, paid a last visit to the guest chambers. She tapped the door with a knuckle, and when a soldier came to open it, she smiled and curtsied best she could, and spoke. "I've come to bid you and the Ser a good voyage."

Aurion nodded to Lindsay, bowing low as befitted their respective stations and beckoning Daeron to come forward. They were all ready for the road, in their high-quality but undecorated and unassuming armor with dark travelling cloaks and hoods. Their weapons had been returned to them and Daeron wore his sword on his hip.

Daeron saw Lindsay and he smiled earnestly at her, bowing in turn to her, "Lindsay, your presence was a bright spot in these serious matters. I hope with all my heart that our paths will cross again, and that I can show you the wonders of my home." Daeron thought that in another life, Lindsay could have been a sister to him. But in another life, this war would not be approaching at all.

He knelt to be on the same level as her and said, "I wish you and your uncle the best, and that the gods will go with you. We have a long journey ahead of us. Before we go, I would ask the lady for her favor. The favor of such a cunning and lovely young lady would surely offer great protection to a humble knight such as myself." It was a somewhat foolish notion, wrapping some garment of hers around his armor. She wasn't his bride to be or any such thing. But Daeron had no woman he loved, yet. No mother or sister to offer him theirs. But perhaps this brilliant, charming girl could offer her protection. A foolish notion, but he had never been accussed of having a surplus of good sense.

There was one thing Lindsay felt, would make a good gift. She had no scarf on her, but one thing she never went anywhere without. She grabbed his hand and turned the palm up, then pressed a small steel object into it. A round disc, in the center carved a Valyrian rune. The third Triarch, the goal required to win a game of korzion. "Don't lose it. I'll be wanting to win it back," she said, grinning ear to ear. "Uncle might be getting worried soon. I hope then, that I may visit you soon, and we can play as friends, like today."

Daeron's smile mirrored hers, "I would like that very much, my lady. I'm sure you'll trounce me, as before. But I'll practice, and I promise to put up a good fight. When you come to the island, I can take you sailing. I don't think you've ever sailed before have you?" Daeron just had to make sure that Rhaenyra won the war first. And for that, they needed to meet with some of the Riverlanders now. They had made their pleas to the Reach Lords they could speak to. Now their path would take them through the Trident and on to Maidenpool before home.

The Knight decided to give his own gift. His hair was pinned back behind his head in a Volantene warrior's knot. But Daeron took out the knife at his hip, and cut the braid, letting his long white hair fall back straight. He could always get it redone later. He sheathed the dagger and offered braid and weapon to Lindsay, "Something for you to remember me by, should the worst happen. And something to defend yourself with. Should we see each other again, I'll trade you for an even better one. But this was my first knife, the one I had as a squire when I sailed with the Sea Snake to put some pirates to Justice and earned my knighthood. Hopefully you won't need it, but you should learn, just in case. Treat it with respect and practice at it, and it will serve you well." The steel was plain but high-quality, and Valyrian etchings were worked into the hilt, translating to the Velaryon words, which he recited, "The Old, The True, The Brave"

"Those are the words of my family, Lindsay. May you be true and brave as well." He offered one last smile and stood to leave, walking off with his men behind men.

The blade glittered in the sunlight, at last breaking through the wall of water between. It was as if it broke through at just the right time to strike the steel at its center, giving it the impression of being alight in a warm glow. With its humble, bright air, the dagger was almost a hopeful antithesis to the brooding pride inherent in Orphan-Maker. The braid rested in her other hand, as silver and reflective as the steel. She would remember Ser Daeron, she promised herself, clutching her gifts tight. She would have her Triarch back.
Rughoi said nothing, so Ardasa stepped in with her own answer before he could. "Of course, Wise Sister! Look at us, we have made many concessions in the name of peace, haven't we Rughoi?" A grunt, hopefully meaning yes, was her response. "See? I'm sure everything will go swimmingly! Now, enough worrying about armies and battles. Such talk is counter-productive. Instead, we have an opportunity to celebrate . . . uhh . . . "

"This book?" Kutur offered, raising up one of his many records. Kali had dragged him quickly out of his little hut, but this he kept with him at all times.

"Yes, our very own Magister's book!" Ardasa said, leaping at the opportunity. "How lovely it is to see the general wisdom of our little empire furthered every passing day!" She went over and hugged Kutur, while whispering her thanks at a distance where nobody would be listening. "Isn't that right, Rughoi?"

" . . . Yes, I suppose," he muttered. "Who knows? Maybe this will turn out fine. Maybe Hekaga isn't a city full of sheep creatures plotting day and night to topple the beacon of kobold civilization. That's the spirit." His sarcastic quip was interrupted by a captain, dressed in legion plating, running in and bowing.

"Your Might, our outer scouts have sighted a detachment of Hekaga wagons flying the symbol of diplomacy!"

"Send out our own, and escort them to the palace," Rughoi ordered. The captain rushed to do so. "Now, let us see if Her Mercy's prediction, as it were, has any grounding in it."
"You sent for me, Your Might?" Kutur asked, sheepishly entering the room behind a row of guards. Kali didn't look happy in the slightest about this.

"We have a bit of a problem," Rughoi said. Immediately to the point, as always. "An emissary of Hekaga was just in here, screaming about how the Hekaga king wants peace between our nations. If you ask me, it sounds like a load of nothing, a ploy to get merchants through our pass or worse, an army. I've invited their king to come to the palace to formalize it, but we should always prepare for an honorless dracon to break their word. What are your thoughts?"

"Umm . . . " Kutur hummed. He had no answer to such. Either way sounded like a bad gamble for the empire. It seems, that for a burgeoning nation like theirs, traps and pitfalls were always waiting to snap them up. "I wouldn't worry about the Hekaga king while he's within our domain, Your Might. We can force him to leave any protection he brings outside of our domain, on pain of open war, while keeping our defenses at maximum condition."

"Well, you'd be in the minority in the court," Rughoi groaned. "You should probably stay here for the meeting. I'm already hating it."

"Wise Sister Kali, how nice it is to see you!" gushed Ardasa, bowing to the priestess. Two things the kobolds chose not to adopt from their former dracon overlords were the dress and the curtsy. "Do our gods honor us today with mercy and favor?"
Appearance: Shi is one of the unlucky few struck with dwarfism, and in his adulthood has been at most 4'8". However, almost as a sort of compensation, he is pudgy and very wide, often giving him the appearance of a ball. He is often found dressed either in the yellow robes of an imperial governor when dealing with other thieves, or the brown clothing of the peasantry when not working.
Age: 35
Name: Liu Shi
Nickname/Alias: N/A
Gender: Male

Personality: Shi is polite, first and foremost. He sees the use of imperfect titling as a personal sin. He is a man of lies upon lies, often even fibbing about non-important information just to practice for when it really counts. He expects the same out of all the thieves he meets, and insists on proof whenever possible, even for seemingly trivial matters.
Biography: There was a time, in a far off land, when Shi was a real stand-up guy. He stayed long hours in school and the library, poring over books of politics, dreaming of a glamorous career in the imperial court. His wish was granted when his hard work paid off, him just nudging out the bottom scorers in the merit test. However, he, coming from a less-than-wealthy family, didn't have many resources to study and didn't do so well that he could land the capital duties of his dreams. Instead, he was sent to the far corners, often having to govern barbarians or raiders. This is what led to him taking the bribe that fell him. He thought one might not hurt, but the emperor has spies everywhere, and Shi was immediately booted out of his place and exiled. Now, he hopes Luthias is far enough away from the emperor's steely gaze and the disappointment he would face from his family should he ever return.

Skills: Administration, philosophical debating, speeches, appraisal
Equipment: Money. Loads of it.
"Oh! Erm, good morning, wise sister . . . or is it afternoon?" Kutur mumbled, peering out through the little crack in his wall that served as a window. The days all looked the same to him. He gave the air a sniff, and found it reeking of parchment and ink. Likely afternoon. "I don't entertain much, especially not the venerated," he said, shying away from Kali. " . . . Would you help me with these books?" He gestured to the stacks that huddled in every corner, all written in his own messy scribbles. Since the peace, he had been even more reclusive as of late. He built his hut away from the city center, so far as to hug the mountains, and his aching claws were a testament to his work. "Still, nice of you to come. Sorry . . . about the smell . . . and the tax plan, I guess . . . seemed a good idea at the time." How long had he been trapped in here with his books? How long had he stared at nothing but these pages, jotting down every little mote of knowledge he knew?
_________________________________________________________
Rughoi didn't like this visitor. He was no merchant, at least that's what his national guardsmen say when they tried to loot his carriage. The visitor was a dracon, because of course he was, dressed in bright robes covered in fineries. In the room, surrounded by those in animal skins or dull armor, he stuck out like a banana in a coffee jar. Rughoi got the impression that this 'diplomat', as he called himself, was looking down on the court.

"Esteemed king," the dracon said, bowing. Rughoi twitched at the incorrect title. "I hail from the land of Hekaga, a kingdom not too far from the Talon Pass. We are wealthy, and great in legitimacy, and my Grand Prince has, in his generosity, desired to extend peaceful relations to your humble domain."

"Hekaga . . . " Rughoi mused. He heard worrying reports from all of his borders. Despite the effective peace between the dracon realms surrounding Lake Draconis, such treaties were poorly honored beyond. Border skirmishes were a near-constant affair between the kobold's national guard and dracon outer scouts, and the racial tension did not help in the slightest. "I remember Hekaga. Commander Rebat's scouts were massacred outside the Talon Pass, right at the doorstep to my empire, by soldiers shouting 'greetings from the mighty Hekaga'. Now, I suppose that's settled. Guards! Cut this worm's throat open!"

"Wait!" he shouted, as imperial guardsmen tied down his arms. "The king offers wood and stone! Food and construction designs!" This made Rughoi pause. Being an emperor was difficult. On one hand, he could kill this representative, both twisting the talon of an arrogant dracon realm while at the same time demonstrating his own power, but he also knew that his people could make good use of the offered materials. Ardasa didn't speak, but she squeezed his claw in hers and shot him a glare that made her intentions clear. Rughoi growled. Binding was making him soft.

"Toss him out of my empire. If this dracon king wants to discuss treaty, he can come to me himself." The imperial guards pulled the dracon away, while Rughoi signaled a captain. "Summon Kutur. He, I think, would know what to do."
@KatherinWinter Hey, I'm present. I recently liked Raptra's message.
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