Chapter 1
Even in high summer, Imresnople, capital of the northern Kingdom of Imresia, remained bitterly cold at dawn and well into the night.
The summer bedding in the Royal Guard barracks never gave Captain Andri Chaire of the First Unit of the Royal Guard Heavy Infantry a comfortable night’s sleep. Chronic exhaustion made his awakenings miserable. His sleep was so shallow that he was usually dressed and ready before the morning trumpet even sounded.
That morning was no different. He awoke well before dawn and, finding nothing to occupy himself, shed his tunic.
What emerged was a body dry and bare.
It was not human skin that covered him, but scales—ash-brown, dull, and layered across his entire form.
At the base of his spine lay a large scar. He had been told that a tail had once been there—that it had been cut away at birth.
Why was he the only one made this way, trapped in such a grotesque form? No one had ever given him an answer.
His mother was gone.
The woman who had given birth to him had been exposed—her newborn child bearing the unmistakable mark of something inhuman.
Proof, they said, of an illicit union with something that was not a man.
The charge had been simple: adultery. Handled quietly, behind closed doors, she was executed.
No further explanation was ever given. To the public, it was declared an illness.
But the truth was plain to see.
Whoever it was, he had to be from Tatsuno—the Realm of Dragons, ruled by its emperor.
He had never seen them himself. Yet it was said that all who lived there could take on the form of great dragons and soar through the open sky.
Andri had been meant to die with his mother.
Instead, his life was spared—on one condition: that he would wield the power he had inherited from that being in service to the king and the Kingdom of Imresia.
He had understood from a young age that this was no mercy. Even as a child, Andri displayed strength far beyond any human.
Even seasoned knights were no match for him in swordsmanship or close combat.
He wielded an immense greatsword, once cutting down both horse and rider in a single blow.
He endured training so brutal that others whispered it should have killed him.
And yet, he survived.
After being cast into one of the provincial knightly companies stationed across the kingdom as a trainee, he was transferred to the Royal Guard at the age of fifteen.
After seeing combat several times, he was promoted to captain and given command of the First Unit of the Royal Guard Heavy Infantry.
However, not a single member of the Royal Guard accepted him—misshapen as he was—as one of their own. To them, he was nothing more than a speaking weapon… something to be feared, never understood.
Most people would find the mountain air refreshing.
For Andri, it was something far colder—like the flesh was being stripped from his bones from the inside out.
He stepped onto the outdoor training grounds, shut his thoughts away, and began to swing his greatsword.
No matter how hard he pushed his body, it never truly warmed; a reptilian body simply did not retain heat the way a human’s did. If he stopped moving, he would struggle to stay awake—his thoughts slowing, his awareness fading.
He swung the blade. Then again. The greatsword howled through the air. As if to keep the drowsiness at bay, to fight back against the crushing pressure bearing down on him.
Today of all days, he could not afford a single mistake.
The king’s twentieth year on the throne was marked by a grand celebration—one that had been planned for years. The excitement reached far beyond the palace, stirring the entire kingdom. Every resource had been poured into the occasion.
The Royal Guard was tasked with maintaining order.
Dignitaries from neighboring realms had already begun to arrive several days in advance. Any incident involving them would be a serious stain on the kingdom’s reputation.
And this morning, the most important guests of all were due to arrive.
From far to the south came the Emperor of Tatsuno, at the head of a royal retinue.
Their realm was small, hardly a nation at all. Yet its people could assume the form of immense dragons, taking to the skies with effortless grace. In battle, their power was said to be unmatched.
The announcement that the Emperor of Tatsuno would attend the ceremony sent the entire palace into a frenzy.
The reigning king of Imresia was known as a master of war, his name associated with a series of successful campaigns that had pushed his borders steadily south.
Yet Tatsuno was another matter entirely. It was not an enemy that could be overcome. Far wiser, instead, to seek alliance—to open relations and partake in the abundance of the southern lands.
Should this visit lead to closer ties, it could well reshape the kingdom’s future. No longer would it be bound to the limits of what could be stored before the ports froze each winter. Fresh supplies might flow from the south, and the toll of constant campaigning—even in victory—could at last be eased.
For a people long hardened by relentless winters, the outcome of this day bore immense significance.
Andri found himself, at times, wondering about Tatsuno.
He knew them only as something spoken of at a distance—never seen, never touched. What they truly were, he could not say. Whether he might recognize anything of himself in them… that, too, remained unanswered.
He never let the thought linger. Whenever it surfaced, he cut it off. It wasn’t a line of thinking he could afford. Not one that belonged to him.
What had been given to him was simple, and unchanging.
To fight. To hold the line. To protect.
That was enough. As long as he could do that, he was allowed to remain.
Imresia understood his value clearly. Against Tatsuno, there was no realistic path to victory.
Still, they kept him close.
A reserve kept out of sight—something to be used when certainty failed and surprise was the only advantage left. Against any other power, his presence alone would be enough to tip the balance.
The night before, Andri had been summoned to the presence of the king of Imresia and the crown prince—who also commanded the Royal Guard.
The order given to him was simple.
He was not to be seen.
If circumstances demanded it, he was to keep his face covered. His presence, if possible, was to go entirely unnoticed.
There was no concern for his sake in the order—only a measure to limit the damage, should he be discovered.
His unit—the First Unit of the Royal Guard Heavy Infantry—was assigned to the far rear of the castle, well out of sight of the visiting delegation.
They were to assemble before the other companies and be in position by dawn.
A faint light began to gather along the eastern ridgeline.
His body neither sweated nor carried any scent. Cold water left him ill, so he relied on a damp cloth, wiping himself down as he always did.
In winter, water was heated and the bathhouse used only with permission. In summer, precious firewood was never spent on such things.
He had just turned toward the well to wash when it came.
A sharp, unfamiliar cry rang out from the indigo sky, somewhere between night and dawn.
His hand went to his sword on instinct, and Andri lifted his gaze.
They came out of the southern sky—nearly a dozen immense birds, their size unmistakable even at a distance, closing fast.
Half of them carried riders.
As they drew nearer, details emerged: cloaks streaming in the first light of morning. From beneath them, long tails hung loose—scaled, catching the rising sun like polished gems.
Their faces remained hidden beneath deep hoods, unreadable.
Tatsuno.
The Emperor of Tatsuno, at the head of a royal retinue.
No one but the dragons rode such creatures—Steedraptors. It was said they could cover in moments what would take a horse days.
One of the Steedraptors gave a sharp, piercing cry.
Every rider turned at once. And their gaze found Andri.
He moved at once, slipping into the shadow of the nearest building.
He had been warned only the night before—he was not to be seen.
For a moment, he thought they might descend on him.
Instead, the riders passed overhead, their gaze lingering as they swept over the Royal Guard barracks and continued on toward the palace, beginning their descent.
“Sooner than anticipated.”
The voice came from behind him.
Andri turned. Standing there was the commander of the Royal Guard—the Crown Prince of Imresia, Antonius Imresius—his eyes lifted toward the sky where the riders had vanished.
Andri dropped to one knee at once.
“My apologies, Lord Commander. I believe I was seen.”
Antonius did not answer. He exhaled quietly, still looking upward. A brief silence followed before he set off without another word.
“I shall go and receive them. Captain Chaire—move your unit to its assigned position.”
“At once, sir. ”
