Chapter 25
The audience was held within the Grand Hall.
Woven floor mats stretched across the immense chamber in flawless rows beneath a high cedar ceiling. Along the sliding screens, great Dracoserpens had been painted across fields of gold leaf, their vast bodies twisting through clouds and storm.
The hall stood open to the surrounding corridors and gardens. Beyond the walkways bloomed bright spring flowers, while vermilion bridges arched over ponds that flowed outward toward the sea. Faintly, the sound of waves and the scent of salt drifted through the air.
At the far end, the hall rose in broad tiers.
Upon the highest level stood the imperial seat—a low armrest and ceremonial cushion prepared on the floor for the Empress, both still empty beneath the towering ceiling.
Below it, along the middle tier to either side, the retainers of the Dracoserpens knelt in silent attendance according to the ancient formalities of Tatsuno’s court.
Kiba sat foremost among them. Master Ko at his side. Tien as well.
Each possessed a body easily twice the size of a human’s, yet the sight of such immense beings seated in absolute stillness and discipline carried a solemn grandeur unlike anything found in human courts.
At the very front of the lower tier lay the place reserved for foreign envoys.
After guiding Antonius and his attendants there—having first watched them remove their footwear at the entrance in accordance with palace custom—Ando withdrew to his assigned position at the center of the hall.
Behind him, beyond the open doors, the escort from Imresia waited along the corridor in rigid silence. Among them stood Theodoros and the men of the First Unit of the Royal Guard Heavy Infantry.
Near the edge of the chamber, where the corridor opened into the Grand Hall, Ando knelt formally, motionless beneath the gaze of Dracoserpens and men alike.
Then, at last, the sliding doors at the rear of the hall opened.
Empress Yuki entered.
Her ceremonial robes shimmered richly beneath the light, the layered fabric reflecting it almost like lacquered armor. With every unhurried step she took, the hall itself seemed to narrow around her, and the weight of the air deepened with it.
Antonius straightened sharply, brought his heels together, and bowed from the waist with rigid precision.
The attendants behind him followed suit at once.
The Empress ascended to the imperial seat and lowered herself gracefully upon it.
“Raise your head.”
Antonius lifted his gaze slowly, careful not to look directly upon the throne itself.
“I am Antonius Imresius, Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Imresia. To behold Your Majesty in such enduring vigor gladdens my heart beyond measure.”
“A single year passeth no more swiftly unto our kind than a gust of wind unraveling the shape of clouds,” the Empress replied. “We are not so quick to change.”
A faint smile touched her lips.
“And yet… thou hast not neglected to sharpen thy fangs in the meantime, it would seem.”
“Your Majesty’s praise far exceedeth my worth.”
A soft laugh escaped her.
“Well spoken. Thou hast journeyed far indeed. While thou dwellest in this land, cast aside needless restraint and make thyself at ease.”
“You honor me beyond words.”
Antonius bowed once more.
Then, after a brief pause, he continued with deliberate care.
“During the first days of winter, the envoy Clatios and his company, sent forth from our kingdom, were received with extraordinary generosity. For the gracious hospitality bestowed upon them by Your Majesty and the honored lords of this court, I offer our deepest gratitude.”
Choosing his words carefully, Antonius continued.
“They spoke at length of the guest residence granted unto them, of the splendor of its furnishings, and of the remarkable feast prepared in their honor. Even amidst the cold season, lavish ingredients rarely seen in winter had been gathered in such abundance that not only the envoys themselves, but even their attendants and guards, were treated with equal generosity.”
His tone remained formal and measured.
“Furthermore, the method by which flame is summoned without the burning of wood was likewise described in letters sent by Chaire. Upon reading them, I confess I was struck with profound astonishment. All these things speak plainly of the prosperity and refinement of your realm, and I find myself unable to withhold my admiration.”
A brief silence followed.
“And thus, on this occasion…”
From this moment onward, Antonius knew every word would matter.
“…we beseech that Your Majesty permit our kingdom to partake of the blessings of your land.”
Ko gave a shallow bow before speaking.
“Ko, Chancellor of Tatsuno, offereth his greetings.”
The old chancellor slowly straightened, his calm gaze settling upon Antonius.
“Her Majesty, the Empress of Tatsuno, seeth no cause to refuse the exchange of our realm’s goods and resources with thy kingdom. Yet before such matters may proceed, one question must first be answered—what dost thou offer in return? For in our land, no custom of coin nor currency existeth.”
Antonius lowered his head respectfully before replying.
“The Kingdom of Imresia is blessed with abundant veins of gold, silver, and precious stone. In both richness and purity, they are counted among the finest of neighboring realms, and their abundance hath long proven both steady and enduring.”
His voice remained composed as he continued.
“Nor are such treasures left unshaped. Across generations, our craftsmen have refined their art with utmost care, fashioning these materials into adornments prized by courts and noble houses throughout many lands.”
After a measured pause, he spoke again.
“Thus do we offer these precious metals, gemstones, and the works wrought from them as part of the recompense we would offer in return.”
At the faint movement of Antonius’s eyes, an attendant stepped forward and carefully unfolded a wrapped cloth.
“We trust these offerings may prove worthy of Her Majesty’s presence.”
Within lay a beautifully wrought casket, its surface covered in delicate ornamentation.
“A small token from our kingdom. Our kingdom would count itself greatly honored were Her Majesty pleased to accept it.”
The lid was lifted.
Inside, jewels flashed brilliantly beneath the sunlight reaching deep into the Grand Hall.
Bracelets of polished gold. Rings and necklaces of exquisite workmanship, adorned with gemstones of vivid color and crystal clarity. Bathed in the warm light of the hall, the treasures shimmered like captured stars.
The Dracoserpens exchanged faint glances among themselves. At length, Tien gave a graceful nod and stepped forward.
With slender fingers, she lifted one of the rings.
“…How exquisite.”
She raised the gemstone toward the sunlight pouring through the Grand Hall, and a faint smile touched her lips.
“Your Majesty, if it please You, do behold these treasures. Each piece hath been wrought with the utmost delicacy. The envoys of Imresia have shown most admirable devotion in selecting adornments worthy to rest before the Throne.”
Then she opened her hand slightly for all to see.
Against the breadth of her great palm, the ring appeared impossibly small.
“Were such ornaments fashioned in measure befitting our kind, I imagine the sight would be quite splendid indeed.”
Her gaze drifted languidly toward Antonius.
He bowed at once.
“Such pieces may, of course, be fashioned in measure befitting the noble Dracoserpens.”
Tien’s eyes softened with evident satisfaction.
“How thoughtful.”
Her voice flowed through the Grand Hall with effortless warmth and courtly grace.
Yet in the next instant, the current of the exchange shifted.
“Though, in truth, we should have little cause to desire them in great number. To adorn oneself each day, only to remove every piece again upon assuming dragon form… ah, one cannot deny it would become rather tiresome.”
With unhurried grace, she returned the ring.
A faint tension spread through the human delegation.
The Dracoserpens possessed little habit of ornamenting themselves. No matter how masterful the craftsmanship, objects without practical worth could never purchase what was truly sought.
Yet Antonius alone showed no sign of unease. Without so much as a pause, he guided the discussion smoothly onward.
“I understand. Then perhaps the textiles of our kingdom may better suit the needs of Tatsuno.”
At another subtle signal from Antonius, an attendant stepped forward once more. Carrying a large wrapped bundle in both arms, he carefully lowered it before Antonius without so much as a sound and loosened the bindings.
“Imresia is a kingdom of highlands, where winter winds grow harsh and bitter. From the sheep raised in those mountains we gather wool of exceptional quality. Over many generations, our shepherds have bred only the finest stock, until these beasts—known beyond our borders as the Cloudwool Sheep—have earned renown throughout neighboring realms.”
As he spoke, the cloth was unfolded.
“Their wool is exceedingly fine, soft to the touch beyond compare, and possessed besides remarkable insulating qualities.”
Antonius continued with measured care.
“Though Tatsuno is blessed with gentle seasons, surely even here there are days when the cold gathereth. Whether worn as garments or laid as bedding, such cloth retaineth warmth whilst resting lightly upon the body, and thus serveth well in guarding one against the chill.”
Then, meeting Ko’s gaze directly, he added quietly:
“As objects of daily use, I trust these would not prove without worth.”
He inclined his chin slightly.
Within the opened wrapping lay cloth of a pale silver-gray hue. The woven wool appeared rich with trapped warmth, its finely spun fibers soft and full where the edge had been lifted.
Several among the human retainers drew silent breaths.
Antonius spoke once more.
“If it please Your Majesty, we ask that these also be accepted.”
Ko received the cloth into his hands. With practiced fingers he examined the weave, lightly drawing apart the fibers, folding the fabric once, then weighing it across his palm before giving a slow nod.
“Indeed… the fibers are exceedingly fine and most uniform. The weave is close, precise, and without blemish. A truly splendid work.”
Then, he lifted his gaze from the cloth and regarded Antonius with eyes at once gentle and quietly probing.
“Yet such garments preserve heat only for those bodies which produce warmth of their own. For beings such as we, whose bodies kindle little warmth within, cloth alone would not suffice to ward away the cold.”
Silence fell among the humans.
“Were heated stones sewn within, the matter might be remedied. Yet such craftsmanship would require alterations beyond the reach of ordinary tailoring.”
The observation had not been anticipated—yet its reasoning was impossible to dispute.
The human attendants could only look toward Antonius in growing anxiety. Antonius alone remained composed, receiving every word without interruption.
“At present, neither the looms nor the tailoring methods of our people are capable of such refinements. Moreover, our population numbereth fewer than a thousand souls. Even should trade between our realms be established, we lack the hands required to adapt and maintain such goods ourselves.”
Ko allowed the words to settle before continuing.
“The quality of these wares admitteth no doubt. Yet the truth remaineth that no means presently existeth upon our side to make full use of them.”
A brief silence descended across the Grand Hall.
Then the old chancellor spoke once more.
“Knowing this, dost thou yet possess some means by which payment may still be rendered in a form of true benefit unto our realm?”
Antonius listened until Ko had fully finished, then lowered his head in a solemn bow.
The air within the Grand Hall grew taut with tension.
Antonius drew his hand into a fist and spoke.
“—Your Excellency’s judgment is most sound. If there be too few hands both to raise such devices and to tend them thereafter, then truly the matter cannot be dismissed lightly. Therefore—”
His words came measured and composed, laid carefully one upon another.
“—we would answer this need with the labor of our own people.”
A subtle tension passed through the Dracoserpens. Even the human attendants standing behind him felt the shift in the air.
Antonius did not falter.
“From Imresia, we shall send forth farmers and craftsmen, scholars and engineers alike, that they may place their skill and toil in service to Your Majesty’s realm. Though ours is a lesser folk in stature, we are well practiced in laboring as one body, even in hosts numbering in the thousands. I trust Your Majesty was afforded some glimpse of this during the recent festivities.”
Steady and unwavering, he continued.
“My people have long endured upon frozen mountain heights. They are patient by nature, and steadfast in their labors. Lands yet untilled within your dominion—we shall cultivate them. Herds left untended—we shall care for them. Devices requiring construction, granaries and reserves requiring oversight—we would place our hands to all such tasks. If it please Your Majesty, permit our labor to stand as part of the recompense we offer in return.”
The eyes of the Empress of the Dracoserpens narrowed faintly.
Far within them, lightning flickered.
“…Thou wouldst send men unto our realm?”
“Indeed, Your Majesty. Should passage between our nations continue through the years to come, then shall prosperity likewise endure between them.”
Both Dracoserpens and humans held their breath alike, awaiting the Empress’s next decree.
The Empress’s gaze drifted beyond Antonius, toward the human retainers standing behind him. Unease spread plainly through their ranks.
“From Imresnople unto this realm, the journey is but five days upon the wing of a Steedraptor. Yet by the crawling road of the earth, no fewer than thirty. To thy kind, this land must seem nigh unto the world’s very end.”
Having crossed precisely that distance himself, Antonius bowed deeply in assent.
“And for a people whose lives fade ere a century hath passed, such recompense may demand the span of generations. Those who set foot in this realm may never again behold their homeland whilst life yet lingers within them.”
The Empress smiled still as she spoke.
“…Tell me, then. How many among thy kind would willingly make such a journey, knowing they may never return?”
“Indeed, it is no easy burden to ask of any man,” Antonius said. “And yet, there are always those willing to answer such a call. My younger brother—and the men of his unit—stand as proof enough that such men do indeed exist.”
At once, the attention of the entire hall shifted toward Ando, who knelt quietly upon the floor near the edge of the chamber.
Out along the corridor beyond the open hall, the escort from Imresia straightened as one. Among them stood Theodoros and the men of the First Unit of the Royal Guard Heavy Infantry.
Theodoros understood immediately.
He drew himself upright, heels together, then inclined his upper body in a crisp formal salute.
The others followed in perfect unison.
Only Ando remained kneeling rigidly in place.
No matter how hard he tried to compose himself, his heartbeat refused to steady.
A slippery one, the Empress thought with inward amusement as she answered Antonius at last.
“Thy brother possesseth a nobility of fang and claw beyond compare. Those scales, tempered through endless hardship, are a treasure no mountain of gold could ever purchase. And wouldst thou claim there are others among thy people possessed of such mettle besides these?”
Even before the Empress’s gaze drifted toward Antonius’s attendants, their unease was plain to see.
If they themselves were ordered to remain in this distant land—to labor for the Dracoserpens until death claimed them—could they truly endure it?
Even Ando, kneeling silently at the edge of the hall, felt his stomach tighten. His fists had clenched hard enough to tremble.
“My brother and the men under his command are warriors of exceptional courage,” Antonius replied evenly. “Bid them labor, and they shall labor. Command them unto death, and still they shall not abandon their duty. Yet such strength of spirit is, as Your Majesty hath said, no common thing among men.”
His voice remained calm.
“One may speak at length of the honor of serving Your Majesty and the noble Dracoserpens in this distant realm. Yet for ordinary men, such words would only remind them the more keenly of their own smallness. And those who come here bearing such hearts would never truly devote their full strength to your service.”
Silence settled across the hall.
Then what answer would he give?
Antonius answered before any could speak.
“To our countrymen—who may well feel such a journey to be little different from a sentence of death—we shall offer no hollow comforts. Fear is only natural. To grieve at the thought that one may never again see home is no shame to mortal men, nor would I ever condemn them for it.”
A sudden wind swept through the Grand Hall.
It carried away the last trace of hesitation.
“Then let all burdens borne by those who still choose to walk this road fall upon me—Antonius Imresius, heir to the throne of Imresia.”
His voice rang through the hall, unwavering.
“To those who offer themselves in service, I shall grant reward. To those who fall, their names shall be honored and remembered. To the families they leave behind, I shall see them provided peace and security. And to those who return alive, I shall repay the severity of their labor in full.”
He took a single step forward.
“Not one shall be forgotten. Not one abandoned. This I swear by my own hand.”
Kiba drew in a breath.
This was no argument of reason. No display of authority.
With words alone, Antonius had seized hold of the hearts within the hall.
There could be no mistaking it now.
This man possessed the makings of a king.
Almost unconsciously, Kiba’s gaze shifted toward Ando.
The Dracling knelt frozen where he was, staring at his brother with emotions too vast for words.
Among the attendants behind Antonius, one or two lowered their heads, struggling to keep their composure.
Every one of them understood where this road would lead.
What they might be asked to surrender. How far from home they might one day die.
Nothing had been hidden from them. Nothing softened.
And still, Antonius commanded them forward.
Yet rather than fear, something fierce and resolute had begun to rise from deep within their chests.
For this man—they felt they could endure any hardship.
The Kingdom of Imresia, and Tatsuno.
For a fleeting moment, Kiba could see it clearly:
a future in which the two nations stood side by side and prospered together.
And yet—beneath that future, Ando would be buried first.
And not only Ando. Countless other “small folk” would give themselves over to build it.
Kiba could not change that flow. Nor did he possess the power to resist it.
The helplessness of it throbbed heavily within him.
The Empress, too, had fallen silent, her eyes fixed upon Antonius as though weighing the very nature of his resolve.
—Then this is the path we must walk.
There would be no peaceful road awaiting Ando now.
And yet it was already too late to turn away.
This alliance had to be forged.
The wings of the Dracotyrannus were already drawing near. They could not afford to repeat the failure of a century past.
For that, they would need Ando’s might, and the power of mankind besides.
Antonius had shown his resolve.
Then she, too, must answer in kind.
Lightning flashed across the Empress’s eyes.
The next moment, she threw back her head and laughed openly, her voice echoing through the vast hall.
“So. Thou art willing to bear what this path demands. Excellent.”
She lifted her chin slightly, her gaze sweeping across the gathered humans.
“Small folk—know that ye are welcome in our realm.”
Then the Empress rose.
Her immense form descended from the upper dais, one broad step at a time, until she stood before Antonius and extended one great hand clad in scales.
Antonius took it without hesitation and pressed a kiss upon the back of it.
The Empress smiled in satisfaction and glanced back toward the middle tier.
“Ko. Kiba. See the matter settled in full, and without mishap.”
The two Dracoserpens bowed deeply where they knelt.
“Wani, Azu, Tien. Prepare a feast. Tonight, we shall not be miserly with our hospitality toward our new friends.”
Then her gaze shifted toward Ando at the edge of the hall.
“Ando.”
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
“See thy brother and his company to their chambers. And show them well this ‘far end of the world’ they fear so dearly.”
With a playful narrowing of one eye, the Empress turned and ascended once more toward the upper dais before disappearing behind the sliding screens beyond.
The Dracoserpens of the middle tier bowed in turn and dispersed to their duties.
