Chapter 39: The Heart of the Empire

“Finally Here”

The thick and gruff voice of Borin echoed.

It had been three days since the summons arrived. Three days riding north. Through the winding paths that led to URUK.

Auryn’s mare moved towards Uruk’s gates. Borin stayed beside him, both looking travel-worn, dust coating their clothes like it were decoration.

The bandages beneath Auryn’s shirt itched slightly as he rubbed his palm across the surface. He was mostly healed at his point and the bandages were practically still there as evidence.

While the steads strut through towards the gates. a soft shimmer crossed his mind. The texts were gold and familiar.

[OBSERVER PROTOCOL – QUEST DETECTED]

[QUEST: TERRITORIAL EXPANSION]

Objective: Claim new territory via negotiation with Triarch Council.

REWARDS (Upon Completion): Rank progression boost

[HIDDEN REWARD TO BE UNLOCKED ]

Auryn read through and dismissed it with a thought. Though the prospective of a hidden reward was interesting to say the least. If he managed to pull this off.

In little less than two minutes, the gates were behind them. They looked majestic, obsidian carved with dragon scales that caught firelight and threw it back in swirling orange waves.

This was URUK. The Heart of the Dragon Empire.

Ash fell like snow, constant and eternal, coating cobblestones, rooftops and shoulders in moulds of gray.

The citizens barely noticed it anymore. It was simply a part of daily life, brushed aside without thought. Heat radiated throughout the city from the center. Oppressive and familiar.

The volcano. Ignaris’s throne, even in death. Orange glow still stood visible above the palace, smoke curling upward in controlled columns.

The mountain never erupted. Dragon magic held it, stabilized it, kept the fire burning but contained. Power that was always alive but never consuming.

The streets were black stone, polished obsidian with dragon motifs in every direction. scales carved into pillars, claws forming arches, wings spanning building facades like the city itself could fly.

This was architecture that whispered: “Dragons rule here. Always have. Always will.”

Even as Auryn approached, the citizens moved aside. Some bowed, recognized his crimson-gold eyes. The third prince was distinctive to say the least.

The scale of the city was intimdating. Everything felt and looked larger than necessary, grander than needed. A show of power.

Auryn didn’t flinch. He was born to this. Raised in heat, ash and grandeur. But Julien absorbed every detail with a fan’s excitement.

He’d read about this place. He’d imagined it and now he stood in it. The obsidian gates. The ash. The volcano. It was all real. A reality he wouldn’t have seen coming in a thousand years.

The palace doors rose ahead, carved from single slabs of volcanic rock, still warm, veins of lava visible within the stone like leylines.

They opened as he approached, guards pulling, heavy and ancient doors, hinges groaning with each motion. The Interior revealed vaulted ceiling stretching upward, dragon murals across stone.

They revealed ancient battles. Ignaris’s conquest. The shattering of Harillion Prime. Territorial wars that built the empire. History written in fire and blood. Scorch marks preserved deliberately as aesthetic.

Auryn stepped through. Keeping his face stern but his mind glazed. The mural were of a massive golden-hued dragon climbing from the depths of this very land signifying the birth of the empire. This made Julien’s eyes twinkle.

That’s Ignaris, he thought.

Within the chamber. Draelor’s throne was elevated, central, carved from thick stone in a single piece that radiated heat even from distance.

The first prince. First sword. The presiding authority. His expression was unreadable, neutral, crimson dragon eyes fixed on Auryn with the weight of absoluteness.

To his right sat Vaedon, lower but equal in status. He watched with a neutral expression but Auryn could swear he saw a smug smile beneath the surface.

Ten Elders flanked them in a semicircle, the witness gallery, advisers and legitimizers all at once. All eyes fell on center of room where Castor stood.

He wasn’t chained. But his posture was one of defeat. Eyes hollow, face gaunt, bandaged hands from silver flames. He looked broken, two centuries of his family strength reduced to this moment.

Borin stepped aside, his back to the edges of the Elders seat, his hand on axe hilt. Watching. Ready.

The silence was thick with tension. Heat from Draelor’s throne washed over the chamber. Ash was visible through high windows, falling outside.

Draelor’s voice finally cut through the silence just as Auryn took his position on the third and final throne.

“Third Prince Auryn Ignisar.”

Auryn tilted his head and met his gaze.

“Duke Castor Valir stands accused of treason . Attempted assassination of a prince of the blood.”

He paused. Allowing the words to settle.

“What do you demand?” He asked.

An attendant approached, even as Auryn’s eyes swept the chamber. Ten Elders in semicircle. Remnants of the first dragon families descendants from Ignaris’s original followers.

Once pure bloods, now diluted through generations of war and poor choices.

He reached into his coat and pulled a folded parchment, Lyra’s elegant script sealed beneath his crest.

He handed it to Draelor’s attendant without speaking, letting the document serve as his voice for now.

The attendant unfolded it, standing before the council. He cleared his throat, reading aloud.

“To the Triarch Council, First Prince Draelor Ignisar presiding… Duke Castor Valir of the Eastern Province did willfully and with malice attack Prince Auryn Ignisar, Third Son of the Dragon God…”

The attendant’s pupils moved down to the next paragraph.

“For this crime, I demand the following: The head of Duke Castor Valir.”

The chamber remained quiet. This was tradition.

“The head of Lady Eva, his wife.”

Suddenly gasps rippled through the Elders, bodies shifting in seats, uncertainty spreading.

“The heads of his three children. Daren. Claudia. Cara. The entire bloodline extinguished. The price for treason.”

The silence and unease unraveled into chaos.

“The children?! They had nothing—” one Elder began, but another cut over him.

“The law is clear! Treason demands—” Before he could complete, a third voice rose louder.

“The second sword is irreplaceable! We cannot lose him!”

Someone else shouted, “But he attacked a PRINCE! Dragon blood—”

The voices crashed into each other, overlapping and fragmenting.

“Children are innocent but precedent must be set or next time something worse would happen.”

The chamber was in pure disarray, chaos took center stage as everyone was talking and no one listening.

Draelor growled and raised his hand. A single gesture of authority.

“SILENCE.”

The storm died down instantly. It was unrivalled control. One word and the council obeyed without question.

Auryn wanted to melt to the authority as well but he had his game face on. He wasn’t the fan-boy Julien right now. He was third prince and as such acted like it.

Draelor’s gaze still on Auryn, tightened as his brows furrowed.

“You demand the execution of children?”

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