Empire of Blood

Chapter 2: A Dragon's Secret

Vidar Helios paced about his office on the top floor of the Council headquarters, overlooking Alfheim's glory. He nicely arranged his mahogany desk with books and pieces of parchment with messages from the members of the Council, including one scheduled crucial meeting with a specific dragon rider. Near the scribbled parchment was a report regarding the egg health of the Mythic Flight clutch. Admiral Altessa's scholars had thoroughly examined the hatchlings and made the alarming discovery that, judging from the hardening of their shells, they were close to hatching: anywhere from several weeks to four months. Yet, he was more concerned about the leather-bound journal hand-delivered to him from former Captain Ashur Bel on top of the pile, detailing startling news needing his immediate attention.

Disgruntled and impatient, he sauntered towards his large window. The sunlight caught in his shoulder-length snow-white hair while he watched the citizens below like a hawk, his usually tan complexion drained of all color, save for his burning crimson cheeks ready to explode like an angry tea kettle. His piercing ice-blue eyes darted from one person to the next, unflinching when he heard a voice coming behind him. "Grandfather."

Vidar spun on his heels to see General Araneus and said in a sharp tone: "Ah, what impeccable timing, as always."

It had been a while since the two spoke. Resembling more of an elf than his grandfather, his mother of pure blood and father with a watered-down bloodline, Araneus Morleth was considered the youngest war general in history at age twenty-four. He wasn't as fair in complexion as most elves, but the alikeness was evident upon his narrow face; his maroon hair christened with silver streaks couldn't hide his pointed ears, nor his deep purple eyes.

His companion, Aracania, was a rare species with venomous abilities, called the Aracania Venomtooth—hence the name. Her daintier and slender frame compared to dragons like Thor and Onyxria made her more agile and acrobatic while airborne and was still strong enough to carry the weight of about fifteen fully grown men. The only other known dragon breed with similar powers were the strikingly white Imperial Pearlscales. Jade, the only Pearlscale in Armageddon, had voluntarily taken a leave of absence after the battle since his handler, Ashur Bel, vanished.

General Araneus' voice nearly matched Vidar's growing temper. "Aracania and I had to pause training with Captain Allendreth and Venerius when we heard you set up a meeting without our knowledge. We demand to know what's going on."

Vidar sneered and scoffed. "No need to be so angry, my dear boy. I will explain everything soon, but I have a favor to ask you." General Araneus' shoulders slumped forward slightly, but he did his best to remain upright. Vidar turned to look back out his window, scooping the scenery. "Before I do, however, you must understand why I would make this ludicrous request."

Araneus squinted at him and snarled through his teeth. "What are you playing at?" When Vidar didn't answer, Araneus asked, "Which soldier did you summon?"

Vidar's reply sent a cold shiver down Araneus' spine. "Do I need to answer that? No matter—I am expecting Liongod."

The general took a quick step forward. "Why?"

"I'm afraid that my orders will overrule yours in this instance: I want Liongod arrested and put in prison immediately."

This abrupt announcement and order made Araneus' knees buckle, but he quickly recovered his bearings. "Have you lost your mind? I will do no such thing. What has Liongod done to warrant an arrest?"

There was a sharp gleam in Vidar's eye as he spun on the balls of his heels, piercing certain darkness trailing the edges of his pudgy face. "We received disturbing reports of his new, unstable power. Not only that," Vidar reached for the leather journal and waved it in front of the general's face, "but we have proof that Liongod isn't who he claims to be, thanks to Captain Ashur Bel."