Declaration of War
“I believe we should handle matters of the court according to their intensity and urgency.” Draven, one of the members of the Draconian Concord Council, said in a panicked voice. His boots tapped aggressively on the marble flooring as he tried to catch up with Erevan, another core member of the council. “We cannot wage a war on such a small village just because they refused a marriage proposal. That’s genocide.”
The arched windows of the palace hallways allowed rays of sunlight to stream into the corridor as they headed to the Scales Imperial Court.
“Tell it to that guy.” Erevan snapped. “As it is, no sane woman would marry him, and he is desperately looking for an heir. Any reason is compelling enough to start a war.”
That guy? Draven’s eyes widened at the statement; it was disrespectful to refer to ‘him’ like that.
“Do you think I want to fight with some humans?” Erevan asked, equally panicked, running his hands into his already ruffled hair.
“But…” Before the words left Draven’s lips, Erevan interrupted him sharply.
“But nothing; we don’t have a choice because that guy already gave his order, and we have no choice but to follow it.”
They both froze at the sudden shift in air and drop in temperature. A strong scent of death and blood wafted into their noses, and they felt their bodies tremble against their will.
He was here.
With a suffocating aura strong enough to put mighty men of valor on their knees, Draven felt his teeth clatter, and his heart raced.
“That guy?” The words came like a hiss, and then they heard slow and deliberate footsteps; he was taking his time to savor the expressions of his panicked subjects. “General, I believe you didn’t just address me as ‘that guy.’”
“Your Majesty!” Erevan’s voice trembled, his head remained lowered respectfully, and both men were covered in sweat. “Pardon me, Draven and I were having a discussion.”
“And you thought addressing me so casually was the right thing to do?” His voice came back, carrying a tone of unquestionable command. “You could lay down your complaints in court, yet you chose to badmouth your emperor. As a trusted member, I am disappointed in you.”
“Forgive me, Your Majesty.” He pleaded. “It will not happen again.”
“I hope it doesn’t; I would hate to lose such a trusted alias.” The emperor patted Erevan’s shoulder, the golden claw ring he was wearing dragging against the fabric of his cloth and he walked off.
A small burst of relief flooded both men, the menacing aura lifting, and they regained their composure.
“You were so lucky,” Draven noted, his chest still heaving as he smiled at his friend. “I think he is in a good mood.”
“Good mood? You didn’t perceive the thick scent of blood coming from him?” Erevan pointed to the floor, showing Draven the blood trails on the floor; he had probably killed some of the personal guards that attended to him, which was the reason he was walking around without any aid. “Anyways, let’s go before he gets a compelling reason to kill us.”
The courtroom had elaborate aesthetics; there was a gigantic dragon sculpture above the iron throne, the throne itself was positioned at the rear end of the room, and a dark carpet stretched from the small set of stairs reaching the foot of the throne. The room was lit by fire burning from sconces attached to the wall.
Draven and Erevan felt their breath seizing, being faced with the murderous sociopath of an emperor again. The rest of the council members were present in the courtroom and gathered around the round table.
“Since we are all here, then we shall begin.” Azarok, the head of the council, announced in a domineering voice. “We received a letter from the Green Shade Tribe in response to the marriage proposal we sent.”
“Their response?” The emperor asked, a little nonchalantly, but judging by his tone, they all knew he was angry.
“It was a refusal, my lord.” Azarok lowered his head lightly.
“I know it’s a refusal.” The emperor boomed; his glare was cold enough to freeze fire. “But if it’s just refusal, I expected a convoy at the very least. Someone to formally relay the information to me—did they provide any?”
The courtroom became silent.
“The last tribe that did that, Your Majesty sent the convoy’s body parts back home,” Azarok answered in defense instead. “They might have been afraid.”
“Azarok has balls of steel,” Draven whispered to his counterpart, who replied with a flicker of his eyes, too afraid to speak.
“I heard the daughter was fair, the most beautiful woman in all seven kingdoms, beautiful enough to enchant men. I heard so much about her that I became curious, and I wanted that beauty for myself. I have never wanted anything as much as I wanted the girl.” The emperor clenched his fists tightly; the claw rings he wore dug into his palm, drawing blood. “The chief dared to ridicule me by refusing my offer. I am the wealthiest man on earth, ruler of all the dragon plains; I conquered the last nest alone. I have gold, diamonds, rubies, and more. I have vast lands and animals; no kingdom, no empire can vouch for one-third of the men I have, but he dared to refuse me.”
The courtroom fell silent, his voice reverberating in their ears.
“They have angered me; the chief of the tribe has deemed me unworthy of his daughter,” he announced. “I will destroy everything the tribe has and the girl; I will carve up her face so that no man would ever desire her again.”
“War!” the eager men yelled.
Draven glanced at Erevan as if expecting him to say something, but who would dare question his command?
“I will reduce the members to slaves; I will make the chief of the tribe bow to me in regret of every decision he has ever made. Before I kill him, I will burn the tribe until there is nothing left of it.”
The rest of the men jeered again, ready for his command.
“Ready everything; we set out at first light.” The emperor announced.
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