A LEGACY OF LIGHT

LERESY

LERESY

He stood upon the northern wall, hand on the pommel of his sword, and watched his father's procession fly toward Castra Luna.

"Bastard always knew how to fly in style," Leresy muttered.

The dragons--five hundred or more--still flew a league away. Most were dragons of the Axehand Order; they wore black dragonhelms topped with blades, the steel engraved with the red spiral. They were missing their front left paws; great axeheads were strapped to the stumps, mimicking their human deformity. They flew in five phalanxes--four framed the procession, while the fifth brought up the rear.

Between these elite guards flew the emperor and his contingent. Frey Cadigus led the formation, a burly golden dragon, the largest among them. The emperor wore no royal raiment like the old kings of Aeternum, only the armor of a soldier; a steel helm topped his head, engraved with the red spiral, and a great breastplate--large as a boat--covered his belly where no scales grew. And yet none would mistake him for a mere soldier, for his horns were gilded, his eyes commanding, and his bearing noble. Every flap of his wings, creak of his scales, and snort of his flames spoke of his dominion.

At his right side flew his heir, the Princess Shari. Her scales were blue, her armor black, and she roared and blew flames.

The Blue Bitch, they call her, Leresy thought and snarled. An apt title.

He clenched his sword's hilt, hungering to spill his sister's blood. Shari would learn, he swore. After his wedding this night, she would learn that he, Leresy, was the strongest sibling, that he--the only son--would inherit the throne. When he was done with Shari, she would envy the miserable outcast Kaelyn.

He looked at the dragon who flew at his father's left side.

Here is my power.

Leresy's scowl twisted into a grin. Lord Herin Blackrose, lord of the Axehand Order, flew as proudly as an emperor. The old dragon had no scales, the result of some disease no priest or healer could name. The dragon's flesh rippled, naked and raw, covered in boils instead of scales, a pale yellow that reminded Leresy of pus. Lord Herin was a foul, twisted freak, a beast that belonged in a menagerie, not in command. But he was strong. Leresy would swallow his disgust for a taste of Herin's might.

"He will be my father-in-law tonight, Shari," Leresy whispered as he watched the dragons fly. "Are you afraid yet? You should be, Blue Bitch. You should be."

Wings flapped behind him. An iron dragon landed upon the wall at his side, smoke pluming between her teeth. The dragon shifted, then stood as a woman with short yellow hair, mocking green eyes, and black armor engraved with a rose.

"The guests arrive," Nairi said, placed her hands upon a merlon, and nodded. "Soon I will be a princess."

"And I the heir," he said. "With your father's help, Shari won't last long." He placed his arm around Nairi, pulled her toward him, and kissed her cheek. "You will be my queen someday, Nairi. Today we rule Castra Luna--tomorrow, the empire."

Leresy looked around him, giving his fortress a last inspection. He had made sure to whip this outpost into proper shape for his father. His recruits, all three thousand of them, stood upon the walls or in the courtyard. Leresy had dressed them in black, steel breastplates bearing the red spiral; he would not have them wearing sweaty leather for the emperor's visit. Each soldier stood stiff and still in perfect discipline; beneath their armor, their bodies bore the scars of punishers.