Will be traveling today. I will try to get chapters out tomorrow but if I don't that is why!
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Even after the Sword Dragon made a declaration to put down all weapons and that they had won, there were still plenty that refused to give in or tried to flee. Artorius was tasked with hunting them down and capturing those that they could.
Congratulations! You have leveled up. Class: [Storybook Squire] → Lv. 29
Stat gains: +1 Str, +1 Con, +1 Will, +1 Char, +1 Luc!
Looking at the level up he got from slaying plenty of deserters and rebels, he made his way back to the new base they set up in the middle of the dragon emperor's spine. Pulling up his character sheet, he looked at the progress he made.
Character Sheet
Name: Artorius Pendrath
Titles: None
Archetype: Leader[Awakened] – lvl 29
Race: True-Blood Dragonmen(Homo Draconis)[G-hatchling] – lvl 29
Class: Storybook Squire(House Pendragon)[Tier 0] – lvl 29
Health: 300/420 | Stamina: 390/405 | Mana: 340/430
Stats
Strength - 38+2+2→42
Dexterity - 37+2→39
Constitution - 38+2+2→42
Intellect - 39+3+1→43
Willpower - 40+3+2→45
Perception - 25+2→27
Charisma - 65+3+2+2→72
Luck - 34+2→36
Trait: Commander, Stoic, Ambitious
Skills: Inspect, Heroic Blow, Last Stand, Training Regimen
Mutation: Draconic Adaptation, Draconic Communion, Draconic Empowerment
Laws: None
Technique: None
Words of Power: Flame(Song), Crystal(Song), Light(Song),
The climb back toward was slow not from injury, though his ribs remained cracked and his joints still ached from the Kirin's momentum-infused blow but because the path itself had changed. The landscape was no longer a battlefield. It was a reconstruction site. A fortress.
Artorius crossed a makeshift bridge spanning the gap into the fortress proper along with his army. The chasm below was filled with workers hauling away corpses, burning them, or dividing them into parts depending on how useful they were. A dragon killed in battle was not buried.
He saw still runnels of dried blood, already flaking like rusted earth, traced down its sides. Scaffolding made of bone splinters and fused dragon-scale plating rose like crude wooden towers around it. Dragons of all types worked together, hammering, carving, melting, forging. Armor was being crafted from cartilage. Shields from ribs. Entire barracks were carved into spinal hollows.
Smoke rose from forges where smiths used dragonfire instead of coal. Sentries lined the ridges. Drakes in full armor perched like gargoyles. Artorius moved through them, nodding at a few familiar faces.
Inside, the atmosphere shifted. It was tense. Not loud, not chaotic. Tense. Drakes spoke in hushed tones. Drakons avoided eye contact. Even the wyverns perched above the parapets seemed… twitchy. Not fearful, they didn't fear easily. It was anticipation. Something was expected tonight, he would have assumed it was the feast and celebration tonight but he felt as if there was more.
"Artorius!" a voice barked from above. He looked up just as a silhouette dropped from the ramparts. The paper dragonness, her scales formed from parchments. "You're back, Isee" she smiled, glancing at the blood caked on Artorius's lance. "And still in one piece."
"Barely," Artorius muttered.
"You did good work. Our Lord has been informed." her nostrils flared, picking up scents still clinging to Artorius, smoke, blood, death. "He wants you to report. Immediately."
Artorius nodded, adjusting the strap of his lance. A dull ache shot across his ribs. He ignored it. The paper dragon didn't leave. She stared at him, eyes narrowing slightly. "…Be ready. Tonight is… important."
Artorius frowned. "Important how?"
Her scales whispered softly like a page being turned. "Important. That's all you need to know. Now go."
She launched herself skyward, tail slicing the air. Artorius continued inward. The command hall was carved directly where the Emperor's neural cavity had once been. Nerves thicker than tree trunks had become supporting columns. The floor was polished bone. The ceiling arched like the inside of a massive skull.
Dragons had different aesthetics. The Sword Dragon had a simple one: Sharp. Efficient. Dominant.
Artorius passed by war tables made from crushed vertebrae, maps burned onto slabs of skin, tactical markers shaped like actual dragon teeth. Sword drakes stood guard on all sides, their wings folded tightly, their eyes cold and calculating.
The Sword Dragon sat upon a throne of fused ribs. He didn't need the throne. Just sitting there made him look like a guillotine disguised as a king. Huge gashes from the Atomic Dragon marred his sides, and yet the wounds bled clean lines of light, as if refusing to stain him. His wing-blades were folded but humming faintly. The entire room trembled from his presence alone.
Artorius called out in greeting, "I have returned!"
The Sword Dragon opened his eyes. Razor-sharp pupils narrowed. "How did the hunt for the deserters go?"
"Well enough, I got as many as I could find."
The Sword Dragon's expression did not change, but the air sharpened. Approval from him was always subtle and dangerously so. "Good." He gestured with one talon. "Tonight, we feast. Tonight we honor the fallen and we consume the strengths of our foes."
Artorius swallowed. He had grown used to the sight, but never the meaning. Dragons did not bury their dead but consumed them, ate them for inheritance - absorbing remnants of power, essence, memory.
"And you," the Sword Dragon continued, "will sit near the head. You slew the Kirin. You earned the right to sit with us royals." A slow, cutting grin spread across the Sword Dragon's muzzle. "Clean yourself. Sharpen your weapons. And steel your mind. There will be politics in the air tonight."
Artorius blinked. That last part… felt like a warning. Still he had to ask, "So do you also plan on presenting my head to the royal Fragrance dragon today? I have to plan and all for my death."
The Sword Dragon leaned forward, eyes narrowing like blades converging. "Don't worry, she will have more on her plate to concern herself with"
-
Leaving the hall, Artorius walked down the spinal ramps toward the lower camps. With every step the tension grew thicker. Not fear. More like restrained aggression. Something ready to snap. He met with his two closest commanders, Raijin and Zoklath.
"What is going on here?" Raijin commented as he looked at the tense atmosphere. Old rivalries flaring now that a common enemy was gone. At one fire pit, two drakes, one gem, one sword were staring each other down as if a single breath would trigger violence.
A group of light and shadow wyverns walked past them, their wings shimmering. Their twin gazes flickered over him like bi-colored flames. They said nothing. "Are you sure that you want us to leave without you?" Zoklath asked once they passed.
"Yes, I'm the one that swore an oath to the Sword Dragon, not you guys, take our men and slip out tonight. This is the best chance. You all risk your lives enough. Find the others and stay together there will be plenty of opportunities after all this."
Raijin stared at him for a long time until he spoke, "It would be an honor to die with you, Warleader. You have led us far."
Artorius shook his head, "I don't want your bloods on my hand, Kelthar is more than enough for me and the hundreds of others. I have my plans and want you all far from here." He didn't tell them he would be basically going nuclear as he touched his cracked collar. To hell with dragon oaths if the sword dragon wanted to remove his head to appease the fragrance dragonness. But to do that he needed them far away.
Anyways, as the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat. He was interested to know what happened exactly when you broke an oath. There was a lot of trepidation to it. More than that he had felt like something was trying to get in contact with him since he arrived here.
"It has been an honor," Zoklath bowed his head with deep sincerity which Raijin also followed suit.
The sun sank behind bone spires, casting long shadows across the fortress. Drums began a slow thunderous rhythm, echoing through the spine like a heartbeat. Fires were lit in dozens of pits carved from the Emperor's vertebrae. Dragons flew overhead, bearing the bodies of Royal, Noble, senior, champ, and elite dragons slain in the grand battles. These, too, would be eaten tonight.
The Feast was not symbolic or metaphorical, dragons celebrated their triumphs with teeth. As Artorius made his way to the main hall, the place was ready with pits of boiling pots, stones carved into seating for royal dragon bodies, gutters for blood runoff, altars for trophies and horns that would be offerings to the Great Dragons and ancestors above.
At the high table made from the fused ribs of the Emperor, Artorius's trophy awaited him: The Kinetic Kirin, cleaned, prepared, and laid across an obsidian slab. He felt a strange chill of pride at the sight.
As night fully descended, dragons gathered by the thousands. They perched on bone ledges, coiled around pillars, stood shoulder to shoulder in tight formations. Wings rustled like an ocean tide. Flames flickered. Scales gleamed.
Then the Sword Dragon descended from above. He landed like a war hammer. "Tonight," he roared, "we feast on victory!"
The fortress shook with the answering roar of thousands. "Tonight we devour our enemies! Tonight we claim what was earned by might! Tonight—we honor the fallen by making their strength ours!" And with a final snap of his jaws: "LET THE FEAST BEGIN."
The dragons surged. Drakes tore into corpse-heaps. Wyverns broke bones to get at marrow. Wurms feasted on the remains of their equals, ripping armor-like scales free with savage bites.
Artorius carved into the Kirin's flesh, and the taste was nothing like meat. It was motion given form: sharp, electric, exhilarating. Every bite sent a jolt up his spine. He could feel the Kirin's essence sinking into him. He could feel himself changing.
But he had barely eaten a third when a heavy scent drifted toward him… Sweet. Floral. Disturbing. The Fragrance Queen approached. Her petal-like wings folded behind her, releasing coils of shimmering perfume that made the torches flicker strangely. She glided across the arena with unnatural elegance, stopping mere meters from Artorius.
She spoke softly. "Enjoying your last meal?"
He paused, swallowing the last bite. "Yep, where is your meal… Oh, wait you weren't able to defeat anyone."
He saw he ticked her off but she kept her cool and didn't look at him. She looked at the Sword Dragon. Loudly and brazenly. "Sword Dragon," she called, her voice drifting like smoke across the crowd. "You made me a promise. Do you remember it?"
The hall quieted as dragons stopped eating, claws froze mid-tear, and eyes turned. The Sword Dragon didn't rise from his own meal which was the atomic dragon. He simply turned his head, gaze sharp as razors. "I remember."
The Fragrance Queen smiled and her perfume thickened dangerously in the air. "You told me," she said sweetly, "that the one who slew my Radiance Dragon Lord would be given to me." Her eyes narrowed. "To devour."
Artorius moved his hand subtly toward his lance. The Sword Dragon's expression didn't change. "Yes," he said calmly. "I did say that."
The Fragrance Queen's smile widened triumphantly. "Then you will honor your word, yes?"
A beat of silence followed by another. Then the Sword Dragon laughed. A deep, metallic, cutting laugh. "Of course I would honor my word…" He leaned forward slightly, eyes burning. "…if you had not planned to betray me tonight."
The Fragrance Queen's expression dropped instantly as her wings froze mid-flicker. The entire hall inhaled at once. The Gem Dragoness stiffened. The Twin Sisters bared twin grins as they paused devouring the Storm dragon. The Psychic dragon barely paid attention as he continued eating the cyber dragon. Meanwhile their guest of honor or more like their prisoner the Sound dragoness who was chained up smiled.
Artorius's pulse spiked. The Sword Dragon rose to his full height, shadows sweeping across the arena floor. "I would have given him to you," he said coldly, "if you were loyal. But you are not."
-
The Fragrance Queen was the first to break the silence. Softly. Too softly. "Well," she whispered, "so the secret is out." Her wings unfurled. Perfume exploded from her in violent color, filling the air with amber, rose, poison-sweet smoke.
The Gem Dragoness hissed and stepped forward, light refracting from her body in jagged prisms that slashed the ground beneath her. "Yes," she said coldly. "I suppose we are discovered. Shame."
The Fragrance dragoness waved over the twin dragons, "the two of you come over here." However they remained in their seats enjoying their prize.
Artorius's skin prickled. He looked past them and toward the camps outside the hall. And he saw it. Fires. Movement. Shadows rising and falling. Shapes ripping through tents. Claws tearing flesh. The betrayal had already begun as fighting broke out. "Damn," he whispered.
Before he could warn anyone, the Sound Dragoness's chains snapped. Not slowly. Not by struggle. Not by force. But in perfect, harmonic disintegration. PING—PING—PING—
Steel dissolved into vibrating dust, falling to the ground like shattered bells. The Sound Dragoness rose, stretching her long, opalescent body. Her throat sacs vibrated, building up an awful pressure and attack.
The Sword Dragon stood. He didn't roar. He didn't posture. He simply drew his wings. Put came blades. Hundreds of them. A folding arsenal of metallic feathers that caught the torchlight and turned it into murderous steel.
The Sound Dragoness choked on her own note as the Sword Dragon blurred. SHING— One swing. Not a roar. Not a clash. Not a battle. Just a single slice. The Sound Dragoness's head separated from her body in absolute silence as her own law smothered into muteness. Her body fell, sprawling across the feast table, limbs twitching.
Her head rolled, bounced once, and slid to the feet of the Twin Sisters. The Dawn and Twilight Dragons blinked once. Then, without hesitation, they pounced, two predators ripping into the corpse like starved beasts.
Screams rose from outside as soldiers turned on comrades, cohorts clashing with others, streams of fire lighting tents like torches. The Sword Dragon ignored it all and turned to the two, "Now what should I do with both of you?"
The Fragrance Queen turned to the twin dragons and urged them, "What are you waiting for? Come here!"
The young dragons turned to face her and made it clear how utterly screwed they were, "We don't associate with the weak!"
The Sword Dragon couldn't help but smile as his blades came right up to their throats. "I don't enjoy this, but if there is one thing I can not stand then it's traitors."
Just then a wave of absolute darkness flooded the arena entrance. The torches guttered. The fires dimmed. Shadows deepened into emptiness.
A figure stumbled through the archway of bone. Tall. Deathly. Skin like dissolving smoke. Wings dragging as if torn. The Shadow Dragon collapsed onto the floor, leaving streaks of umbral ichor. Gasps erupted around the feast.
"What—" Artorius breathed. The Sword Dragon narrowed his eyes. The Fragrance Queen and Gem Dragoness froze in surprise, not expecting this at all.
The Shadow Dragon King lifted his head. His voice rasped, broken, carrying a fear no dragon should ever experience. "A dragon…" he whispered. "A dragon has hatched…"
His claws scraped the ground. "Not a royal… not a sovereign…" His breath hitched, a sound of pure dread. "An immortal-blooded dragon."
The hall fell silent. Even the Psychic Dragon raised an eyebrow. Artorius felt a tremor roll across the bone beneath their feet, as if the corpse of the Probability Emperor itself shuddered at the name.
The Shadow Dragon King's eyes met the Sword Dragon's. "It killed them," he croaked. "The Sand King… the Infernal Dragon… the Moon Dragon… all devoured. All erased. Our armies slaughtered. Their names unmade." He convulsed, coughing shadows.
The Sword Dragon's voice was low. "What has hatched?"
The Shadow Dragon King's answer shook the marrow of every being present: "A Void Dragon. A pure-blooded hatchling of nothingness." He collapsed fully.
The feast, the rebellion, the plots—all of them shrank into insignificance. Artorius slowly tightened his grip on his lance. The Sword Dragon rose with lethal purpose. "…Artorius."
"Yes," Artorius said quietly.
His voice was iron. "Put down the traitors. All of them. Quickly."
-
Tonight was not only filled with backstabbings, scheming, and bloodshed but also secretive meetings. Below the corpse-fortress, far from torchlight and feasting was a cavern. At the center of the chamber stood the Asteroid Dragon.
His scales were uneven, fractured, layered like meteor stones that had survived fights. Veins of glowing minerals traced his limbs. His horns were chipped. His eyes held a mini galaxy that had long since collapsed.
"You are late," a voice said. The Asteroid Dragon did not turn immediately as a projection appeared. She was vast and restrained at once, her true form compressed into something the chamber could endure. Even so, the stars above subtly realigned around her presence, their slow drift adjusting to her gravity.
The Star Dragon Empress. Her scales were not scales but mirrored constellations, each plate a fragment of night sky bound in living order. Nebulae swirled beneath translucent armor. Her wings, folded behind her, were so wide that their edges brushed different spectrums of reality. Crowns of stars hovered above her horns, each one representing an era she had lived through.
Her eyes were white-blue supernovae, soft but unbearable to look at directly. She regarded the Asteroid Dragon with familiarity, one that seemed like motherly care. Finally, she spoke. "How is the human?"
If Artorius was here he would have been shocked that someone knew what he was. Among dragons, he was a curiosity at best, an anomaly at worst and had gotten used to be getting called a scaleless one.
"Artorius," he said. "He still breathes. Against all odds."
The Empress's stars flickered faintly. "As expected." She drifted closer, though she did not truly move. "The Sword Dragon bound him with an Eternal Flame Oath," she said. "A crude thing. Forcing vows under duress has a way of ending… poorly."
The Asteroid Dragon inclined his head, "It is not great and I do not know how long he will survive. He is thrown into battles beyond his station. Promised rewards that come with hidden blades. The Sword Dragon sees him as a weapon. A disposable one."
The Star Dragon Empress couldn't hold back her laughter, "You do not know him well then. If that is all he faces, then he is doing remarkably well. This is the least of his troubles."
Unable to hold himself back any longer, the asteroid dragon asked the question plaguing his mind the whole time, "Do you wish to tell me why you want me to watch over him? Why you made me go undercover like this?"
"All in due time child," the star dragon smiled mysteriously. "All you need to know is that he is very important. He is the fulcrum if you would." The Asteroid Dragon said nothing as the Great Dragon continued, "Now the Probability Dragon Emperor, this new Void dragon hatchling… all is converging."
At last, the Asteroid Dragon spoke again. "Then what would you have me do?"
Her projection leaned closer, starlight casting long, impossible shadows. "It is simple," the Star Dragon Empress said. "Ensure that Artorius reaches the heart of the corpse."
The Asteroid Dragon's galaxy flickered. "And then?"
Her smile deepened, carrying the promise of old mischief and great calamity. "And then," she said softly, "he must awaken the one who still schemes even in death."
The cavern fell silent. Above them, the war raged on, unaware that beneath its feet, the course of everything had just been nudged, ever so slightly toward something far more dangerous than simple betrayal.
The Asteroid Dragon exhaled stardust. "So be it," he murmured.
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Author Note: The feast is based on the red wedding but with the tables turned.
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Chapter 41 Recap
Leveled up Class: Storybook Squire to Lvl. 29!
+1 Str, +1 Con, +1 Will, +1 Char, +1 Luc!