The throne was made of bones.
Not symbolic... Not sculpted to look like anything... Real bones.
Stacked, fused by heat, so still darkened, others bleached by ti. Skulls ford the backrest, arched ribs served as arms, and thick femurs supported the structure like columns. A monunt to the idea that there, one did not govern—there, one dominated.
The surrounding hall was vast and dark, illuminated only by white flas burning in suspended braziers, floating as if the light itself were afraid to touch the ground. Shadows danced on the black stone walls, creating silhouettes that seed to move on their own.
From the throne, a voice echoed.
Low... Controlled... Dangerously calm. "Repeat."
The forr mayor of Athenion swallowed hard.
He was kneeling several ters from the throne, his forehead almost touching the cold floor. His once elegant clothes were now crumpled, soiled with road dust and nervous sweat. His hands trembled so much that he had to brace them on the ground to avoid falling to the side.
"M-my lord..." he began, his voice faltering. "The man... Strax. He... he took the city."
Silence.
The flas crackled louder for a mont.
"Continue," said the voice.
"He..." the forr mayor took a deep breath, as if preparing to dive. "He reduced the taxes. To almost nothing. Five percent."
There was a pause.
Then, a sound.
Not exactly a laugh.
More like a warm breath, laden with disbelief.
"Five... percent."
The figure seated on the throne moved slightly. The shadows trailed along, as if they had a will of their own.
"He..." the forr mayor hurried, sensing the growing danger, "...said he didn’t care about money. That he wanted loyalty."
The air in the hall grew heavier.
The white flas flickered.
"Loyalty," repeated the Monarch of the White Flas, savoring the word bitterly. "And you’re telling this... in that tone?"
The forr mayor began to sweat.
"M-my lord, that’s not all. He... he mobilized the city’s thieves."
Absolute silence.
Not even the fire dared crackle.
"Explain," ordered the Monarch.
"All of them." The forr mayor raised his head just enough to speak. "Smaller guilds, street children, organized criminals... he defeated them. Humiliated them. And then... offered them work."
The word seed out of place in the hall.
"Work?" "Yes, my lord," said the Monarch, his voice now carrying sothing sharper.
"He turned them into... soldiers. Informants. Hunters of other thieves."
The Monarch leaned slightly forward.
For a brief mont, the light revealed part of his face.
Light scales reflected the white flas.
Vertical eyes, like golden blades, glead in the darkness.
"So..." he said slowly, "...he robbed the thieves."
The forr mayor nodded, almost desperately.
"H-he said it was my fault. That the city was rotten because no one was in control. Because... because no one was doing anything." The Monarch’s hand tightened on the arm of the throne.
A dry crack echoed.
A skull cracked under the pressure.
"My city..." he murmured. "Robbed. From the inside. And you let it happen."
"I... I didn’t know the extent of it!" the forr mayor hurried. "There were reports, but the managers, the supervisors, everyone swore it was under control!"
"They were lying," the Monarch said simply.
"Yes! Yes!" the forr mayor almost shouted. "And now... now this man appears, acts like a savior, and everyone follows him!"
He hesitated.
"My lord... he’s not normal."
The Monarch raised a scaly eyebrow.
"Define ’normal’."
The forr mayor took a deep breath, as if reliving it still terrified him.
"His eyes..." he whispered. "They’re not human. They’re reptilian. Golden. Cold. And there’s... there’s a pressure around him. As if the air is being crushed."
He began to tremble.
"When he enters a room, people stop breathing properly. Even without threatening. Even smiling."
The Monarch remained silent for several seconds.
Then, he laughed.
This ti, it was clearly a laugh.
Deep... Hot... Full of contempt.
"You lost your city to a predator," he said. "And you ca crawling to expecting what? That I’ll be outraged by low taxes?"
The forr mayor banged his forehead on the floor.
"He dared to ddle in your domain!" he shouted. "He dared to touch the money that should be yours!"
The laughter ceased.
The heat in the hall suddenly increased.
"Money..." repeated the Monarch, now bored. "You think this is about money?"
He rose from his throne.
The difference in size was imdiately clear.
Tall... Imposing... Each step made the floor vibrate slightly, as if the world recognized who was in charge there.
He walked until he was a few steps away from the forr mayor.
"You lost Athenion," he said. "Not because he was stronger, but because you were weak."
The forr mayor began to cry.
"M-my lord, he’s coming after you. He made it clear. He ordered the mayor... ... to crawl here."
The Monarch smiled.
Sharp teeth glead in the white light.
"Excellent."
He turned, facing the floating flas.
"A dragon that learns to rule..." he murmured. "That’s rare."
He turned his gaze to the broken man on the ground.
"Go," he ordered. "Spread fear. Tell everyone what you saw."
The forr mayor hesitated.
"And... what about him?"
The Monarch of the White Flas slowly opened his arms.
The flas around him grew.
"Tell him," he said, his voice echoing like a decree, "...that the true owner of this territory is awake."
He smiled. "And that I’m eager to see if he bleeds like all the others." Strax sneezed.
It wasn’t a polite sneeze.
It was one of those that makes the air tremble slightly, the glasses vibrate on the table, and soone in another neighborhood wonder why they felt a sudden chill.
"Hah’TSCHAA!" He blinked twice, bringing his hand to his nose, confused for a split second.
Rogue, who was sitting sideways at the table, reviewing so reports with one leg crossed over the other, looked up imdiately.
"...Are you okay?" she asked, frowning. "Do dragons catch colds now?"
Strax let out a low grumble, rubbing his nose.
"No." He grimaced. "That was... weird."
Daniela, leaning against the window, and Cassandra, sitting on the back of a chair as if it were the most natural place in the world, exchanged a quick glance.
"Soone must be cursing behind my back." "What?" Strax said finally, with absolute conviction.
Rogue blinked. "What?"
"Soone spoke ill of ," he repeated, too serious to be joking. "You can feel it. That feeling... of ill intent traveling across the distance."
Cassandra smiled slightly.
"Ah. Then it must be him."
Daniela sighed.
"The Monarch of the White Flas," she added. "He probably just realized he’s completely lost control of the city."
Rogue laughed, a light laugh, almost too amused for the subject.
"Poor guy," she comnted. "He must be seething with hatred sitting on that ridiculous throne of his."
Strax gave a lazy smile.
"Good to know I’m bothering you." Rogue closed the book he was reading and stood up, walking over to him.
"Honestly?" she said. "There’s nothing to worry about now. When he decides to act, it won’t be subtle. It will be loud. Chaotic." She tilted her head.
"And chaos..." her smile widened, "...is exactly the terrain where we function best."
It was sothing... older.
"I’m going to do sothing I should have gone back to doing a long ti ago," he said.
Rogue felt the tone shift even before the words made complete sense.
"Train," Strax finished.
The smile beca sharper.
"Get stronger."
The atmosphere seed to react to the decision. The air grew slightly heavier, as if sothing had been triggered.
Cassandra whistled softly.
"That sounds... dangerous."
"It is," he agreed. "It needs to be."
Daniela tilted her head.
"You’re already strong enough to crush half the enemies that might appear."
Strax shook his head.
"Strong enough to win isn’t the sa as strong enough to dominate."
He walked to the window, looking at the city below. Athenion sprawled in shades of stone, smoke, and nervous life. People walking, working, surviving—many of them now unaware that they were at the center of sothing much bigger.
"The Monarch won’t co alone," he continued. "He has allies. Ancient creatures. Fanatics. Things that don’t care about cities or people."
Rogue approached, leaning against him.
"So you want to make sure that when he cos..." she began.
"...there’s no doubt," Strax finished. "Not for him. Not for ."
Cassandra slid from her chair to the floor.
"Right. Then we turn thieves into soldiers while you beco sothing even worse."
"Sothing better," he corrected.
Daniela took a deep breath.
"Just try not to break the city in the process."
Strax chuckled softly.
"I promise to try."
Rogue studied his profile for a few seconds.
"Where are you going to train?"
He turned his face slowly, his golden eyes gleaming. — Where no one will interrupt. Where I can make mistakes. Where I can... rember.
Cassandra crossed her arms.
"That sounds like a place that explodes."
"Probably" Strax admitted.
He stepped away from the window and walked toward the door.
"You take care of the base. Of the control. Of the order."
He stopped before leaving, casting one last glance at the three of them.
"When the Monarch decides to act..." he said, with absolute calm "...I want to be ready to remind him why dragons don’t ask permission."
Rogue smiled.
Cassandra laughed.
Daniela simply nodded, serious.
Strax opened the door.
The air around him seed to ripple for a mont.
And then he left, already feeling, deep within himself, that old hunger for overcoming challenges awakening again.
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