Chapter 3

The river Stejer surged along its banks. The fisher boats anchored in Whitestream’s harbour stirred up and down, a pair of dockworkers scurrying around to check if the boats had been properly secured to the wharf. Dawnlight had broken the horizon, but not the city walls. The commanders fast asleep between the walls were still blissfully unaware of the misery they’d invited upon their heads. Lord Lothar wasn’t amused by latecomers. He was anything but.

Victor had fallen asleep just outside of the city, He was no stranger to his father’s outbursts. Those are memories best left forgotten in a ditch. The ditch was then best forgotten underneath a mountain of dirt, just to make sure. Dangerous as it might be, a sword was easier to deal with than the crushing blow of disappointment, and so Victor took his chances spending the night all alone outside Whitestream’s walls, assassins be damned.

Daylight grazed his eyelids, creaking them open. The slitted pupils panned back and forth. Nothing but trees and grass, and an orange tint creeping up the sky. With a grumbling, heavy huff, Victor rose to his feet. A growl from his stomach sent a bird in a nearby nest flying off into the dark; it was puzzling enough that they hadn’t fled earlier. One look at a dragon should be enough to tell any creature that it doesn’t get much higher up on the food chain. But as wise men have been saying for eons, every rule has an exception.

“Haaaargh… I think I stubbed my toe… wait, it’s a talon now, that doesn’t make sense…Ow!”

Groggy and unfocused, Victor bumped his head against a thick branch hanging overhead. A bucket of leaves let go of the trees they were hanging from, gliding down onto the red dragon’s head. They were damp. Victor vigorously shook his head.

“Uurgh… it’s been a good three years now, and no one’s bothered to make a decently sized field around here somewhere. Don’t cities need wood?”

“Ah! I need to hurry!”

With a mighty beat of his wing, Victor took off to the site of the meeting. A growl from his stomach demanded he reconsider, but that wasn’t an option. Not a chance in the abyss; it had to wait.

The site of the War Council’s meeting was a fifteen minute flight to the west of Whitestream, near the village of Bridgetown. Some one hundred people lived there, and they were still in the process of waking up. They were in for a mild surprise once they got out into the morning air to see dragons filling the air.

The meeting site was just out of town, at a distance at which it wouldn’t be easily eavesdropped. Still, the Homefront’s leadership took no chances. So much as a word leaking could jeopardise their plans, and war was not kind upon failure. It wouldn’t be the first time it happened, but by Divinity, no one wanted to reexperience it.

Thus, the dragons gazed from above like eagles in search of prey. Among them was Victor, who eyed the raised bed of dirt the meeting was to take place on. Two dragons were already there, one brown and fat, the other red and slender. He put his claws out in front of him, coming to a quick stop after grabbing onto the ground..

“Good morning, everybody.”

“A very good morning to you,” the red dragoness replied.

The brown dragon cracked a toothy smile. “Good morning to you too, Vykroz,” he said, letting the tip of his thick tail twitch back and forth behind his back. Victor rolled his eyes.

“I’ve told you this before, don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” the brown dragon said, holding a claw against his broad chest.

“That’s not my name.”

“It is your dragon name, though.”

Annoyed, Victor reeled back onto his hindquarters and folded his scaly forelegs over one another much like a human would. “Batharr, please. Just because you like your new name more doesn’t mean that I have to.”

Batharr tilted his head. “But it is a beautiful name.”

“Cut it out already,” the red dragoness said. “You heard him say it a thousand times already, he doesn’t like it.”

The brown dragon grunted. “Ah, calm down now, Flaratia. ‘Tis only a name, I’m not saying we have to use it.”

“You sure aren’t giving me that idea.” Victor scraped the back of his teeth with his tongue. ’The longer I’m a dragon, the more they push me to act more like they want. Like a dragon, I guess… didn’t think they’d be so self absorbed. Then again, I didn’t think I’d ever be one, either.’

“Let’s just move on, shall we?” said Flaratia while flicking her tail like a whip. “We’ve had this talk more than enough already.”

“Oh, sure,” the brown dragon said, struggling to suppress a burp. He had a red smear over his mouth, likely from first breakfast in the morning. Or his second.

Since the others weren’t at the meeting yet, Victor laid himself down on the ground and pretended to catch up on sleep, covering his nose up with a claw in the process.

A few minutes passed, and the other commands appeared one by one. There was a noticeable blue void when the time came to raise their heads, however. The time when Lord Lothar himself landed in the clearing, bright eyed and determined as ever. Victor too raised his head; even though it was his father at the end of the day, he had no desire to be seen in a different light than the other commanders were.

“Good morning, Commanders.”

“Morning, my lord.”

“Now where is Raghes dozing off this time?”

“Somewhere in Whitestream, my lord.”

The gold dragon rolled his eyes. “As usual. Divinity forbids him to show up on time, after all…” he rumbled, all the while the rapid beating of wings creeped into the skies overhead. A blue dragon swooped into the site, a good chunk of distance between himself and the gold dragon, who seemed gigantic in comparison to the blue’s smaller frame.

“My apologies, my lord.”

Lothar grumbled back at him. “Yes, yes, Commander Raghes. These are the usual games with you, are they not?”

Raghes shook his head and wings back and forth in sync. “I swear to Divinity, this was not my intention this time.”

“Ah yes,” the gold dragon sighed, “The same excuse as all the other times. At this point, I will not even bother to discipline. There is no use, is there? We all now how this little game of yours goes, Raghes. You apologise, as usual, then you show up late the day after, as usual. Is that not correct, my brethren?”

The other dragons in attendance had but a tepid nod each to reply with. Raghes anxiously eyed those around him, who stared back at him with all the emotion of a street sweeper come winter. He didn’t last for long; his head dipped below the level of his shoulders after having met each dragon head on.

“I… sorry, my lord.”

A rumble passed through Lothar’s throat. “Predictable. Get in line.”

Wearing a look of defeat, Raghes sauntered off to an empty corner. Victor looked away. There wasn’t much he could do to help the blue dragon out of his misery. Lothar never liked him in particular: Were it not for his effectiveness, Raghes would have been turned into fodder for the war machine long ago. Seeing him get pushed and shoved around verbally, and sometimes physically by his father didn’t sit right with Victor, not one bit. Out of all the dragons in the Lokahnian Homefront, he had been incredibly supportive of Victor ever since that fateful day. Whether he needed a shoulder to cry on, a mentor for his new body, or a friend’ support, Raghes was always there to answer the call. He didn’t deserve to be treated that way. But alas, Lothar wouldn’t let this go.

“So then… let us discuss this war, shall we?”

“Yes,” Flaratia said. “It’s about time. We haven’t had one of these in too long.”

The gold dragon nodded. “Most certainly,” he replied. A wind began to sweep across the field overhead. “It has… admittedly been a quiet past few years. I have heard your voices over the past few months, and I do feel it is time for us to get a move on again.”

Batharr cleared his throat. “You could say that again. What have we been doing ever since that attempt to go down the Kalde, all the way to Kaldedam? Not much. All we’ve produced is corpses.”

Lothar shook his head. “Please, do not be so crass. We have to remain level headed here.”

A yellow dragon poked his head up. “Level headed? Lord Lothar, with all due respect, this is not the time to mince words. We’ve been resting on our laurels for so damned long, I’m starting to doubt whether or not we’re ever going to win this war in our lifetimes, if at all. We’re sitting here, the imperials are happily biding their time getting stronger and stronger, and we’re not doing anything about it. At all.”

The gold dragon frowned back, tail lashing onto the ground behind him. “Now then, do not pretend as if nothing has happened over these past few years. We have taken ground south of the Stejer. One of the Barrier Islands is in our hands now, and some of our brethren are proudly raining the abyss down on that cursed navy of theirs. The days of widespread enemy infiltration are long over, are they not? So do not act as if we have been inactive for years.”

Flaratia shook her head, huffing and beating her wings to draw everyone’s attention to herself. “I wouldn’t be so optimistic. Once upon a time, we had half of the islands, now we’re down to just one, and if it wasn’t as close to the Lokahnian coast as is, we’d have lost it as well. And really, can’t we do better than to capture a few villages, maybe a town or two on the southern bank of the Kalde? Our resources and manpower aren’t unlimited.”

Lothar nodded along to the dragoness’ words, shiftily eyeing the trees far past the other dragon commanders gathered. Victor noticed, and tilted his head out of instinct. Two years ago he would’ve been caught off guard by said instincts. Now they were another part of life.

‘Divinity be damned, he’s not taking this well, is he? No one’s really questioned him for so long, and now all this.’

The debate, which slowly disintegrated into off colour family drama that stopped shy of outright name calling, went on for several minutes. Victor kept his mouth shut. It was at times like these that he questioned why his father thought it was a good idea to appoint him as a commander, other than simple nepotism. That happened several months ago, and he hadn’t made any significant contribution to any of the Council’s meetings thus far. When the chips were down, what was he, other than a simple rural bumpkin? A hick trapped in a dragon’s body was still a hick deep down.

On the flipside, given the productivity of the Council’s meetings these past few months, perhaps nothing was an improvement. The rest spat, hissed, shouted their ideas at one another, immediately dismissing everyone else’s thoughts and plans as the ravings of madmen. Some wanted to try going to Kaldedam again, others wanted to try and head north. Some others preferred the centre, and a few even suggested the idea of stirring up revolts across Justitian controlled Lokahn. Alas, no one relented.

“So then, is no one interested in going through the centre? Straight towards towns such as Raven’s Hill, King’s Refuge, Steelmill, you know, places where all the population is?”

“Straight through the Justitian defences, you mean? Yeah, bright idea there-”

“Hey, don’t call those imperial sons of bitches how they like to call themselves. Nothin’ ‘just’ about them!”

“Who cares?! We’re fighting a war here!”

“Yeah, that’s why shouting the enemy’s propaganda is such a brilliant idea!”

Dragons roared past one another. At first, two voices spoke at the same time, shouting and arguing whatever plans they had conjured up past one another while the others pretended that their pointy ears had fallen off their heads somehow. Then a third joined in. Then a fourth did a proverbial shrug and jumped into the fray as well. It wasn’t until a fifth had joined in and the meeting had all but disintegrated into an angry, drunken bar rant that was on the verge of a huge fight breaking out that the gold dragon put his foot down.

“ENOUGH OF THIS!”

The other dragons all fell silent. Lothar growled in a tone so low it could be mistaken for a demon. The bickering and shouting had gotten to him on a way that seemed far too personal. Victor swallowed his saliva and watched. To him, it was evident that his father’s grip over his own commanders had loosened up far too much to the gold dragon’s liking, and he was making a move.

“Idiots, the lot of you! Look at us all! Shouting and arguing over each other as if we are a bunch of petulant children! Is this behaviour fitting of your draconic blood to you? Is this how a dragon should compose themselves? Shame on you all!”

“My lord, we uhh-”

“QUIET! Interrupt me again, and I will tear out your tongue myself!” Lothar roared. The blue dragon that asked the question reeled backwards. Victor shook his head.

‘Poor Raghes…’

“This is not what I expect after more than ten years of dragonhood. Ten years of leading this arduous rebellion, and now we are all arguing with one another over strife that is next to meaningless compared to what we have been through already. Have you all forgotten that we were trapped in the ancient temple for eight years before? Afraid to go out and so much as hunt for food, out of fear that the imperials may catch wind of what was left of Divinity and her followers? Compose yourselves. We are not here to argue, we are here to talk about the progress of this war. I propose that we prepare another attack after months of little more than harassment. Any objections?”

Silence met the gold dragon head on. “Good,” he grunted with a flick and twirl of his tail and wings, “then let me propose this. We go after the cities first. Win the population there over. One stone falls into another, until every stone that comprises our beloved Lokahn has been liberated from imperial clutches.”

Flaratia shook her head. “My lord, I understand your ambitions perfectly fine, but I do not believe that is the way to proceed. The imperials are expecting us there. Numerous scouts have flown over the area, and the number of defenses and troops they spot down there increases by the week. If we attack there, the losses will be enormous.”

“Why yes,” Batharr followed, “and there is another concern with this plan. To have more people on our side is fantastic, but where will we find the means to feed them all? There is only so much food to go around here. I understand that we have begun a settlement program for the refugees from out west, and that we have begun a program to try and increase the amount of children born, not to mention hatched by now, yes… but will it be enough?”

Victor looked off into the distance. ‘Of course Batharr would mention the food supply. Ol’ bastard’s got a belly large enough to fit a whole Ballista, I’m pretty sure. Egh.. can’t disagree with him though.’

“Yeah, what he said! We want more food!”

“You’re both fat as pigs, that’s why.”

“Hey! What was that for, ingrate?”

“Telling it like it is, that’s what.”

“Oh, sure we can do that, you son of a whore.”

“HEY NOW!”

Just as the meeting seemed to get back on track, chaos came riding in on a blood red horse, a whole marching band playing behind him. It didn’t take long before the insults began to fly, the scales began clattering, and the angry shouting from a certain gold dragon went ignored for several minutes. Victor shook his head. He was going to be stuck here for a while.

‘Why does my father keep inviting me to these…’