Chapter 3
The Kingdom of Imresia marked the twentieth anniversary of their king’s coronation with a celebration of remarkable splendor.
From the great square before the palace down through the main thoroughfares, royal banners were strung across the streets in sweeping lines. Stone facades were draped in garlands of flowers and fabrics of every color, transforming the city’s austere architecture into something vibrant and alive.
Rising high among the mountains, Imresnople seemed less a city than a grand stage. Toasts were raised again and again, and the revelry never faltered—music filled the air, dancers moved in time with it, acrobats drew gasps from the crowds, and poets’ voices carried above it all, their verses drifting endlessly through the air.
Save for Tatsuno, it was common knowledge that Imresia held the greatest military power on the continent. Yet the scale and grandeur of the celebration made that truth impossible to ignore, clearly meant to impress it upon both its own people and the watching world.
Caught up in the spectacle, the people of Imresia seemed to feel it more strongly than ever, as if reaffirming that their king—and their kingdom—stood at the very center of the world.
The celebration then moved to the arena, where a grand martial display was held, featuring the finest knights drawn from the Royal Guard and provincial knightly companies across the Kingdom.
Steel rang against steel. Formations shifted with precision. Their movements flowed in seamless unison, leaving the crowd breathless.
Cheers and applause rose without end from the stands. Children leaned forward in excitement, while adults watched with pride. For this day alone, the usual divisions—between honored guests, nobility, and common citizens—seemed to fade. All eyes were fixed on the same spectacle, all hearts stirred in the same moment.
Of all the day’s festivities, nothing stirred the crowd more than the presentation of tribute.
When the magnificent Steedraptors presented by Tatsuno were brought forth, murmurs of awe rippled through the arena. The presence of the dragon—who were not known to favor such a cold land—and the rarity of their gift could only be taken as a clear sign of goodwill toward Imresia.
Even a mere five of the Raptors would greatly enhance the kingdom’s military strength. And with the backing of the dragon—the most formidable power on the continent—Imresia’s influence over its neighbors would only deepen in the years to come.
The visiting dignitaries exchanged glances, a quiet sense of awe and unease toward King Alexios taking hold among them, even as some weighed its meaning for their own realms.
As for Alexios, he reveled in the attention and the rising excitement of the crowd, plainly delighted with himself. With an easy, self-satisfied smile, he stepped up onto the platform, as though the moment belonged to him alone. Drawing every eye, he strode toward one of the Steedraptors.
The Royal Guards at the reins, having just received their instructions from Wani, started forward in alarm, calling out to stop him—
But the next instant, Alexios swung up onto the Raptor without a hint of hesitation.
The crowd, convinced this must be part of the spectacle, stirred with eager anticipation, expecting their king to take to the skies at any moment.
The Empress seized the moment. With nothing more than a glance, she signaled Wani.
Wani gave the slightest flick of his tail and, with practiced ease, gave a subtle signal—one he had long instilled in the Raptors.
In an instant, the once-docile Raptor let out a piercing screech that tore through the air and erupted into a frenzy. Sensing an unfamiliar rider, it threw its full strength into casting him off.
“Father!”
Antonius broke into a run. His hand went to his sword by instinct, the blade flashing free—but what he faced was a gift from their honored guests. He could not risk harming it.
And yet, the safety of the king—and of those assembled—had to be secured.
After the briefest hesitation, Antonius shouted:
“Summon the First Unit!”
Even at the rear of the arena, where they had been stationed out of sight, the First Unit of the Royal Guard Heavy Infantry had already sensed that something was amiss. The moment the order reached them, they moved.
Andri, stationed at the rear, rushed forward alongside his men.
Antonius hesitated for the briefest moment—then steeled himself.
“Captain Chaire! Bring the raptor to heel!”
“…Commander—surely there must—”
“There is no time for counsel. Do as commanded!”
For the briefest instant, doubt flickered in Andri’s chest. Then he moved, tearing off his gear without another thought.
The change came at once.
His body expanded with violent speed.
Bone ground against bone. Muscles surged beneath the skin, swelling beyond human limits. His frame twisted, stretched—warping into something no longer meant for a man.
A roar tore from his throat, rolling across the arena and shaking the air itself.
When it ended, something else stood in his place.
A massive, upright figure—reptilian in form, towering over the chaos.
The crowd broke.
Panic spread in a wave, voices rising into screams.
“A dragon!”
The cry rang out—only to be corrected at once by Empress Yuki, her tone cool, almost bored.
“Not quite. That is a Dracotyrannus.”
She reclined deeper into her seat, legs crossed, cheek resting lightly against her hand, watching the scene unfold with open amusement. Around her, the other dragon traded glances—resigned, faintly exasperated—as they observed their sovereign’s indulgence.
The arena dissolved into chaos.
The queen screamed and fled, her attendants forming a shield around her as they forced a path through the panicked crowd.
King Alexios had been thrown from his mount. He sat where he had fallen, speechless, uncomprehending. The shouts of his retainers—pleading, urging him to move—never seemed to reach him.
Andri moved.
He launched himself at the rampaging steedraptor, driving it to the ground and pinning it fast with taloned forelimbs.
This was the form they feared. The reason, in Imresia, he was spoken of not as a man—but as a weapon.
—But there was a problem.
Damn it… my mind… it’s slipping…
With the transformation came the fading of reason.
A violent urge surged up from within, swallowing thought whole.
If he sank his fangs into the creature’s neck, its avian head would come away easily—
the savage temptation whispered to him, dark and intoxicating.
“Captain Chaire! Enough—fall back! …Andri!”
A voice reached him, faint and distant, as though carried from another world.
But he could no longer tell whose it was.
Still gripping his sword, Antonius stepped forward.
If Andri could not master himself—then he would be forced to strike him down.
“Andri! Regain yourself!”
The plea reached him from afar, thin and wavering, yet heavy with desperate resolve.
But the name—his name—no longer held meaning.
“…Hm. The moment ripens.”
With a faint, knowing smile, the Empress rose.
In the next instant, the sky split open.
A vast, serpentine form—dwarfing both the struggling beast and the Raptor—manifested overhead, blotting out the sun.
Clawed limbs seized the Steedraptor, while a maw lined with crushing fangs closed in upon Andri.
“Be still, child of the Dracotyrannus, born of its savage scales.”
Strangely, that voice reached him—clear and resonant—deep within the fading remnants of his mind.
In the next moment, the transformation unraveled.
The monstrous form vanished. Andri collapsed, restored to human shape.
His limbs would not answer him; he could not even rise.
Through the chaos, Antonius rushed to his side.
“Do not yield. Do you hear me? Do not yield.”
Dropping to one knee, he caught him by the shoulders.
At that very moment, the Royal Guard moved.
They swept in, closing in around the two, steel flashing as their blades came up in unison.
Opposite them, King Alexios was being helped to his feet by his attendants. He struggled to reclaim his composure, yet the effort showed—his features drawn tight, his gaze fixed upon Antonius and Andri with naked fury.
Antonius did not hesitate.
He stepped forward at once, placing himself before Andri, a half pace ahead as if to shield him.
“On this most august occasion… what shameful disorder is this!”
The king’s voice wavered, strained and uneven, betraying agitation more than authority.
Antonius received the rebuke without flinching, his stance unbroken.
“Antonius! Think not thou shalt go unpunished—”
The rebuke never finished.
“King of Imresia.”
Alexios—and all around him—were pinned beneath a visible, crushing weight: the Empress herself, still in her draconic form. As she spoke, her voice sank so low it seemed to draw the breath from every chest.
Her immense body loomed, blotting out all else. The piercing glare of her vast eyes struck him where he stood.
The king shrank back, like prey caught in a predator’s stare, his limbs refusing him. The strength seemed to drain from those around him.
Courtiers and soldiers alike—those sworn to defend him—had fallen to their knees.
The Empress’s voice was calm—almost elegant—yet it carried a rebuke more merciless than any shout, its quiet weight suffocating all thought of resistance.
“Before thou wouldst fault thy vassals, look first to thine own conduct. Did I not caution thee? Until thou art accustomed, thou art not to lay hands upon the Raptors.”
“Th-this is… I…”
His excuse dissolved before it could take shape.
“As for this Raptor, I shall have it brought to heel. Take heed—mishandle it not. If thou canst not master it, it is wasted on thee.”
In that moment, all who witnessed it understood—beyond doubt—the true balance of power between Imresia and Tatsuno.
“That is not the matter at hand—”
The Empress let the transformation fall away as if shedding a mantle. The vast, draconic form receded, resolving into a tall, upright form. Attendants moved in at once, draping her in robes as she took that shape.
Even as they worked, the Empress’s gaze lowered—slowly, deliberately.
On the ground below lay Andri, spent and motionless. Just before him, Antonius remained on one knee. He did not rise. One hand stayed fixed at the hilt of his sword, as though letting go would be a greater offense than drawing it.
No one spoke. The air itself seemed to hold its breath.
“I would hear an account of this one.”
It was phrased as a request. No one took it for one.
“The people of Tatsuno are few. Should even one go astray, it would not escape our notice. And yet, none among us are unaccounted for.”
The Empress’s eyes lifted at last, settling on the king.
“Which leaves but one conclusion: the parent who shared their scales with this child yet lives within my realm.”
A murmur rippled through the court.
She had made it plain. Someone of this kingdom had trespassed into Tatsuno without leave, wronged one of its people, and carried off the child born of it.
Among the Dracoserpens, tension flickered just as sharply—though for a different reason. They watched their sovereign in silence, well aware how strained the claim truly was.
But the humans knew nothing of their kind—neither their nature nor their customs, not even the distinction between Dracoserpens and Dracotyrannus. No one present could challenge the contradiction.
The moment belonged entirely to the Empress.
“The ceremony may proceed to its conclusion. At first light tomorrow, you will bring this one before me.”
It was not a suggestion. It was a decree—delivered with the effortless authority of one who stood at the apex of the continent. There was nothing to be done but bow.
As if their interest had already waned, the dragons turned away. Tails swayed in idle arcs as they left the arena behind, along with the lingering disorder and the weight of what had just been set in motion.
