Dragon Kin

31

Victor

When I enter the tavern is full and the music is lively. I wave to the barkeep who gives me the 'go on' sign so I take the stairs to the right and climb them three at a stride.

At the top there are six guards standing in the wide hallway before the meeting room door. Six? I didn't bring one. Maybe I should have?

Inside the room I find all five of the houses represented by their masters, and one extra master from what I realize is dominantly believed to be the sixth on the list from the throne.

"I'm sorry Philip, this is a private meeting. I invited who I wished to attend," I told him.

"Bullocks on that," he said. "I've got the right to know what you are up to with the houses. Now that Maximilian is out of the way."

"Out of the way?" I asked, closing the door. "Have a care how you speak about him. He is favored. You are not."

"He's got the madness, he's no longer Regent," he said.

His name was Philip, of the Iron dragon clan. I went through what I knew of him from memory. I've always found him to be rash, and short sighted. Also possessing the belief that if he made a scene, people would notice — which was true for the most part. I always have. But I decided to let him stay, for now. Perhaps it would work better.

My focus was on the three strong houses. This was more of a news bulletin for the other two — well, now three lesser houses.

"Fine, stay but you don't have a vote. Pipe up too often and you're leaving. Understand?"

He gave me a sneer, but said nothing and sat down.

Dragons were by nature, contrary. You couldn't judge them by human standards of politeness or insult. Philip's fires were burning. I could smell them. The smoke they set off might very well cover my own efforts at masking my own emotional state with aggressive scents.

At the table were the others, who stood when I entered but were now seated again. I gave the group a short bow.

Igor, sitting to my direct left, represented the Silver dragon clan. Large, thick in just about every way, but as easy to laugh as he was to battle. He would be next in line, if things of this nature were measured with math and percentiles. Obviously they are not. But this was the strongest of the strong claims. His clan, however, was not the strongest to back his claim.

That fell to James of the Green dragon clan, to Igor's left. Strong claim, strongest house. And probably the strongest in the room, for that matter. Not as big or as thick but solid. His visage was hard and chiseled from dark brown flesh. His nose was broken in the middle, and hawk shaped. Dark black hair hung in thick locks over his ears, down to his shoulders.

Ivan, to the left of him, and next to Philip, came from the Red dragon clan. His house was stronger than Igor's, though not as strong as James. This again was a measure of math and numbers but again, not precise when thinking about war. With war, everyone has a plan, until they get hit.

Earnest of the Blue dragons, to the left of Philip, matched Ivan in all areas except hereditary claim. His was an odd case, however. Had my mother lived longer than my father, his would be the highest claim, and backed with stronger forces than Igor currently had. It wasn't a direct match up but the argument would put the council in session for a week, I was certain, trying to make the decision. During which time, they would just attack each other and find out for themselves.

That was really the thing. The thing I wanted to address. As it stood right now, victory in battle proved the will of the gods. Which was bullshit. It was no way to run a country. It was also, I realized while looking around the table, the cause of my reputation problem.