Shadar was wondering, idly, which of his subjects was attempting to overthrow him. Perhaps this could become his new hobby. After all, it seemed like all he did these days was quash rebellions left and right. He might as well improve his own ability to spot them before they appeared.

So. Whichever of his vassals walked through that door had to desire his power. That did not narrow it down much, but he could safely assume the various trolls, rocs, and other barely-sentient monsters would not think to rebel on their own. He was left with a slew of intelligent creatures, most of whom had been used to ruling themselves before Shadar's rise. However, it took bravery to walk into his den and challenge him for his throne. Most dissidents attempted to take another outpost or two and strengthen their position first. He did not expect it to be goblins, kobolds, or the other weak races who were bred to be fearful and attack when cornered. He did not even think his necromancers would do such a thing, though humans could be unpredictable.

But... Shadar tapped his finger against the hard rock of his throne in thought. The rebels had unusually good timing, if they were attempting to challenge him directly. They had almost managed to coincide their attack with his absence from the command center. Perhaps they had even planned to destroy the other portals in the atrium, though Shadar had put measures in place to stop that from happening. And after all, the heroes he had faced had conquered his volcanic Dungeon because of their enchanted arms. Shadar had only tried fire magic against the last opponent, but he suspected that all of the adventurers used some sort of enchanted protection, and all of it was at least Master-made. There was no other way a group of four Adepts could have so easily killed all of the creatures in one of Shadar's strongest Dungeons.

Perhaps the rebels had provided the adventurers with their gear? But if that were true, then it implied a contradiction: they were brave enough to march into his home, but fearful enough to want him away while they did it? Not to mention that they apparently had access to either a powerful Enchanter of their own or enough gold to purchase the enchanted armor.

Shadar could think of a few races who would consider it a mark of honor to challenge a warleader in order to usurp them. But few of them were rich enough to afford Master-quality equipment. Were they a builder race, then? Enchanters were rarer among Massahn's children than among humans. Who--his musings were interrupted as the doors to his throne room, massive constructions of red and black rock, swung open.

Ah. It was always so easy for him to forget dragons.

There were only three of them, large enough to seem at home in his cavernous throne room--perhaps thirty feet from snout to tail, and twelve feet tall. Shadar had chosen to use a massive crystal chandelier lit with enchanted candles to illuminate the room; its light was particularly effective in highlighting the beauty of these dragons' golden scales, glittering and refracting as they walked forward. Shadar knew that glitter well.

They had sleek, white, elegant horns which curled back along their heads slightly, and they each stood a good six meters tall. Their bodies looked more like the lions whch roamed the plains to the outh than any other lizard: they were heavily muscled, with powerful legs huge necks. Each of their heads had an angular, almost arisocratic look, with strong lines and piercing golden eyes.

"Greetings, tyrant." The lead dragon's voice was confident, powerful. It was odd to see human words issuing from those massive, monstrous lips, but Shadar knew that they, like he, were using the rudimentary mental magic of their kind to translate. Such was the gift of Massahn to his children: that they would always be able to speak to their enemies, if not each other.

"Dragons of the Hankor Waste." It made sense. The golden dragons could be quite subtle at times, with even wider networks of influence than most other nests and a greed which outstripped anything the others felt.

"You know why we have come. Will you surrender?” The rebellious idiot was hoping that he would simply give up? True, three Masters constituted a truly impressive fighting force by almost any standard, but Shadar had already conquered their Nest once. He would not lose to them easily.

“Of course not. Choose amongst yourselves who will face me.”

Shadar vaguely knew two of these dragons from his time in the desert. They were not, so far as he knew, the leaders of the Golden Nest. However they were Masters, and skilled combatants. But upon exaining the third dragon, he seemed young, smaller than the other two with a few patches of smaller adolescent scales, meaning that he was younger than thirty. But this dragon moved just like the other two, indicating that his attributes were probably similar. Was he also a Master?

Almost as soon as Shadar had finished his challenge, the same dragon who was speaking stepped forward, drawing Shadar's attention away from the young one. The elder dragon's Name appeared above his head, high enough that Shadar had to crane his neck upwards to see it. Ghurat’al’Hankor-Master Golden Dragon. This was also part of the ritual. Standing, Shadar opened his Name Sheet and changed his title and bonus statuses to open. He knew the words that would appear over his head, even as he began to access his portion of the Divine Magics to reshape the room.

Shadar’al’Rulan- Master Dungeon King

God-Chosen of Massahn

“You thought you could get out of dueling me by taking this place before I returned. You failed.” Shadar kept his voice toneless, hard. In truth, this duel would probably be the simplest way to settle this. Shadar's title functioned best against a single opponent, and he preferred a duel to retaking his own home from an entire Nest as they had no doubt planned.

“We will settle this in the circle.” The dragon snarled.

“Yes, I will.” Shadar’s awareness was sufficiently extended into his Dungeon’s aura, allowing him to carefully sink a circular portion of the floor, widening the area as he and Ghurat slowly descended further into the depths of the ground. Eventually the circle was wide enough to have accommodated at least ten dragons comfortably--the standard size for a draconic dueling ring. Though the opening above the ring tapered inwards, it was still possible for the two dragons above to see most of the fight.

“Where is your witness?”

“Watching.” Digaratoth would have made his way to the viewing chamber behind Shadar'sthrone. A neat little trick of engineering, that was.

The dragon made no reply. Shadar found its brief words refreshing. Draconic speech was still the most sensible form of conversation he had ever encountered. Every other race was far too fond of words for his liking.

The two combatants took their places at opposite ends of the circle, both coiled and ready to spring at one another. Shadar thought that he saw much more of himself in this opponent than the three humans he had fought earlier. But then, that was unsurprising.

Like every type of dragon, golden dragons had a racial ability to control a type of magic. That skill was far more versatile than most other types of monsters, and it meant that draconic combat was actually similar to that of humans. They used skills and practiced varied techniques, though different types of dragons used completely different types of magic. Golden dragons were strange--they used a form of fire magic, but their skills used the power of the Sun in a manner unlike any other type of fire mage. They used attacks of pure light and heat, though he was unclear on exactly what form of defense they used. Shafar had heard rumor that they could somehow store the energy of the sun as an additional source of mana, though of course there were supposed limits on how much power could safely be held in this manner.

As Shadar pondered, the dragon spoke. “I will use Solar Armor.” The rules of the draconic duel dictated that each of them could declare and use one skill prior to the fight beginning. Even as he spoke, Ghurat’s golden scales began to emit a harsh light and the temperature in the circle began to increase noticeably, the air shimmering nearer the dragon’s skin. Shadar had a feeling that the dragon’s magic was containing most of the heat close to his body, and that he would do well not to approach it without some protective skill. An interesting defense. He wondered how much mana that must take, and how long the dragon could keep the skill up, power of the Sun or no.

Shadar was still considering what transformation would best counter the golden dragon’s abilities. Its offense had the advantage over regular fire magic in regards to speed--even a full Grandmaster could not hope to dodge a golden dragon’s skill once it was released. He also needed a way of safely bypassing the heat surrounding its body. Perhaps the Hydra--but he was forgetting the disadvantages of golden dragon magic. Shadar had learned in his youth of the creature that they feared the most. Luckily, it was one he was especially suited to call upon.

“I will use Form of the Black Dragon.” As he finished speaking, the golden dragon’s wings flared slightly, a sign of surprise and--perhaps--fear. Shadar could not believe it had take so long to remember this skill. But then, it was rare that he could use such a powerful transformation in combat.

Carefully, Shadar directed his mana, recalling perfectly the body and magic of the monster he was attempting to copy. The power flowed from the base of his skull and spread evenly across his bones, then dispersed further until his entire body was saturated. This type of skill was much more difficult than the partial transformations Shadar usually employed, and this form was the only one Shadar could use it for. In fact, if his opponent had been anything less than a Master he would not have been able to use it at all.

Once his mana was properly directed, the change was not gradual. In the same manner as the partial shifts Shadar instantly assumed the form of a dragon larger than the one before him. His fine clothes were torn to shreds, not having been enchanted like his armor to meld into his magical aura. No matter. He knew his scales would be reflecting the light in the same manner as his opponent’s, that his eyes would be red as always, but vertically slitted, and that his body would be radiating a faint shadowy aura.

From above, the voice of another dragon, far more timid than Ghurat, echoed down. “I w-will act as arbiter.” It was the oddly young dragon: he sounded afraid--because of what Shadar had just done or on general principle he could not guess. “The fight is to the d-death, and the victor will command the Dragon’s Tooth Dungeon. You m-may begin.”

The enemy sprang immediately to the side, perhaps expecting a rush forward, but Shadar simply reoriented himself to face his opponent. Black dragons had little to fear from the golden, even less than the other colors. Which meant that he could force his enemy to attack rather than risking himself on the offense.

The golden dragon’s scales were slightly painful to look upon now, as Shadar’s eyes were far more sensitive to the light in this form. However the vision was an overall improvement--he could even focus his vision slightly, allowing him to watch carefully for any telegraphing of movement from his opponent. However, Ghurat was simply watching him, keeping his massive frame loose and ready to move. Then, the Master Dragon did something exceptionally stupid.

He opened his mouth, and let forth a searing ray of light, somehow visible in the shadowy circle as a beam a handspan in diameter. Shadar did not attempt to dodge, and the beam impacted the scales of his right foreleg an instant later.

And nothing happened. Was the fool hoping that he had somehow failed to complete the transformation properly? He was only wasting his mana.

Black dragons had a special racial ability, distinct from the other colors’ masteries of magic. They could nullify any magic they touched, as long as it was on par with their own power level: fortunately, with Shadar’s own abilities, that was always the case.

And while light-based attacks were fast and powerful, they were completely magical, even more so than a normal fire mage’s attacks. Meaning that none of the golden dragon’s attacks could do anything to harm Shadar as long as he held this form. Unfortunately, it had taken most of Shadar’s mana to transform, and everything he had left to sustain it. Still, he would wait a little longer before commiting to the offensive.

Sure enough, the golden dragon was attempting another ranged skill, raising a claw which shone much brighter than the rest of his body, then slashing forward viciously, a wave of focused heat emanating outwards in a crescent. Shadar lazily swept his own claw through the attack, dissipating its power and feeling nothing more than a minor discomfort at the heat.

However, as he returned his attention to his opponent the black dragon realized his enemy was already in the air, using his wings to boost a jump towards Shadar. Time for the true fight, then. Shadar was suddenly eager to end this opponent, quickly and brutally.

Why could they not leave him alone?

Shadar bounded forward, massive muscles allowing him to react instantly. He raked his claws at the dragon’s golden underbelly, feeling none of the magical heat his scales were emanating. One of his claws caught a chink in the scales and slid into the soft flesh underneath, pulling Ghurat out of his flight path and forcing him to crash into Shadar. The black dragon was larger, and better muscled than his opponent, but he still stumbled at the massive weight, and both of the massive lizards were rolling on the circle’s floor.

Brawling as a dragon felt different from doing it as a human. Avoiding his opponent’s attacks was nearly impossible as four razor-sharp claws and powerful jaws tried to score his flesh. Shadar might have expected to be worse than his opponent, but clearly Ghurat’al’Hankor was used to killing his prey at a distance, or at least using his “Solar Armor” to win physical confrontations.

The enemy flailed at his shoulder, allowing Shadar to use his spiked tail for balance and roll his enemy to the side. He quickly established a dominant position, pinning his opponent’s legs and using his own tail to hold the golden dragon’s much weaker appendage at bay.

Now Ghurat was futilely attempting to twist its head backwards to snap at Shadar, leaving him open to attack the back of the neck and kill the dragon. He could see that the golden dragon knew it as well. His yellowish eyes were burning with anger--righteous anger. He truly believed Shadar was a tyrant.

Shadar knew that this was the moment to say something dramatic and terrifying: ‘count yourself lucky that I do not make you suffer,’ or ‘your fate is the same as all who defy me.’ He had observed plenty of powerful leaders in his time, and he had seen the value of a good spectacle.

Part of Shadar wanted to speak. He wanted to know why exactly this idiot had decided to challenge him, had gone to such great lengths to overthrow him. But he also knew what he would hear. Either empty platitudes about the ‘freedom of his people’ or equally empty condemnations of Shadar’s ‘tyrannical’ rule. He knew that these were not the real reasons that he was forced to kill one or more of his subjects weekly, but he could not figure out the truth.

Part of him suspected that all of them simply thought they could do what he had done, but better. No matter that none had.

Still, the questions almost escaped Shadar’s lips as he closed his huge jaws on the golden dragon’s neck. He bit down, the softer scales of the back offering almost no resistance, his teeth easily slicing through flesh until they reach hard bone, then crushing even that. Ghurat’al’Hankor stopped struggling. His blood was hot in Shadar’s mouth, tasting of copper and iron like that of a human, his flesh stringy and nearly tasteless. Shadar spit it out, fighting the instinct to swallow as a true dragon would.

“Sh-Shadar’al’Rulan is the vic--” The young dragon’s voice cut off as Shadar leapt from the circle, wings beating as he ascended past the end of the hole in the ground. Before either of the dragons could react, he was atop the third monster, the one who had yet to speak.

His claws were in his opponent in moments. Most dragons’ backs were softer than their underbellies, as their ancestors had flown above their prey, rarely fighting on the ground. Shadar was technically fighting two opponents, though he doubted there would be much resistance, so his Strength and Agility were suddenly incredibly high. It took mere moments to leave the unprepared dragon’s back in bloody ruins, but Shadar kept going until he felt the drop in his attributes which meant that the golden dragon had died.

Then he turned his eyes on the last victim. The youngling was undoubtedly a Master--he too was blazing with the Sun’s heat as Ghurat had done, but he was channeling a light beam into the ground before him, heating it to an almost red glow. That was smart: it would limit Shadar’s options, but if he struck now he could--

Shadar stopped. He calmed himself, letting the bloodlust of the dragon deep away as he once again considered the young dragon before him.

“What is your name?”

The golden scaled dragon did not stop his beam attack, though his eyes were watching Shadar, presumably for any move to take to the air as he had been planning. The young dragon’s wings were out, ready to propel him upwards in case Shadar went for his back. Shadar was beginning to be impressed.

“You are far more intelligent than your elders, young one. But remember who I am.” Young one? Digaratoth was right, he was getting old.

Still, Shadar was thankful for the years he’d had to practice and rank his black dragon skill. At its current level, Shadar could use all of his skills unimpeded in this form, though the spell still completely negated his mana regeneration and made it difficult to use any other magic. However, for this power he did not need mana.

Allowing the young Master to continue building a defensive position, Shadar instead pushed his awareness once more into the Dungeon. The Divine magic that gave the place special properties was already at work on the corpses of the two dragons, and Shadar stopped it absently. He had no need of their power, and it would be rude to withhold their bodies from the Golden Nest.

Instead he directed the ambient power of the room to the heated ground around the dragon. Instead of slowly altering the form of the rock as he had with the dueling circle, Shadar carefully built up enough power in it to make it shoot up in three angled obelisks, trapping the dragon.

The entire time, he had been further forifying his defensive position, further heating his surroundings and watching Shadar, but he had made no move to attack.

Shadar walked on his four huge legs until he was facing the young dragon, but kept well back. Even at a distance, the temperature of the floor had increased notably.

“I will do nothing to harm you intentionally unless you do so to me. I pledge this on my den with my lieutenant Digaratoth of the Askazi as my witness.”

Digaratoth’s voice echoed down from his viewing slot above Shadar’s throne. “Witnessed.” Now Shada was bound tightly to his oath: even Digaratoth would likely spread word if he broke an oath spoken on his den.

“Now then, young one, what is your name?”

“Why d-do you want to know?” The golden dragon’s voice was guarded, if still terrified. Strange, how swiftly he had reacted in the fight, yet how obviously unsure he was now.

Shadar sighed. This youngling had probably been raised on stories of his conquests. Shaar doubted that the golden dragons viewed him as an intrepid hero either. “First, because I am your king. Second, because there are few beings as young as you seem to be with as much power and--more importantly--intelligence as you seem to possess. And third, because I do not want to march on the Golden Nest.”

“W-What? How will you march on the entire Waste?” The dragon attempted to rear back slightly in shock, but the obelisks prevented his motion. He was right to be skeptical. Dragon nests were more figurative than literal gatherings of the creatures: the golden dragons lived in scattered pockets throughout the massive desert called the Hankor Waste.

“Do you doubt that I could kill every dragon in your desert?”

“Grandmaster C-Corlesca-”

“Even her. I am God-Chosen.” Shadar could not be guaranteed victory against any Grandmaster--his title meant that he could compete on a somewhat even ground, but Grandmasters were too powerful to be easily dealt with, and too skilled to rely solely on attributes for victory. But the one in Hankor was relatively young, and moreover Shadar had proven that he was especially favored against golden dragons.

After a long pause, the dragon opened its mouth again. “W-why should I t-tell you my name?”

“I do not have a lieutenant in the Hankor Waste. If you swear yourself to me, I will allow you to return there and mobilize my forces for me.” A gamble, perhaps, but one that could do a great deal for Shadar's earlier problems.

The dragon’s wings twitched against the rock which held them. “You would trust me?”

“You are young, and I like you. Besides, I think you realize that I could truly end everything you care about should you betray me. You are a skilled fighter, and I will need you for this campaign.” Here Shadar spoke the truth. This boy was clearly intelligent, and his loyalty could be assured if Shadar played this correctly.

Now the dragon’s golden eyes flared in anger. “What Dungeons do you want me to conquer? Which races will I subjugate for you?”

“Don’t be a fool. I have done what I did for a purpose, I have never said otherwise. I think it is time that we return to war against our true enemies.”

That was far more melodramatic Shadar would have liked, but there were times when melodrama could inspire a young man as logic could not. Even if that man were a dragon.

“You mean--”

“You will begin attacks North. We will discuss tactics another time, and yours will not be the only force moving.”

Another pause. “My name is Tarangil’al’Hankor.”

“Very well, Tarangil, I will let you out of there so we can decide on the exact wording of your vow.”

**********

“He did what with the last one?” The inhumanly pale woman could look eerily ethereal at times, but as she whirled on Shadar, he felt the firm weight of her presence in the glare she sent at him. “You did what?”

“I made him my lieutenant and told him to mobilize the Hankor Waste against the humans to the West.”

“But-but that’s--” She was sputtering. Shadar did not think he had ever seen Eva do that. “That’s ridiculous! We’ve conquered less than half of the territory we planned to in our lowest estimates! The strongest Dungeons we have are barely Master level, and besides, Hankor? There’s a powerful kingdom to the West of Hankor, why would you begin the assault there? And why in the hells would you have a traitorous child lead it?”

Suddenly a voice like warm honey rang out over Eva. “Are you planning to dash the Golden Nest against the Kingdom of Corunti as a small squirrel may be dashed against the walls of a mighty castle? Mayhap you hope to direct their schemes and untoward malice outwards, rather than against your own person?”

The creature who had spoken did not look like it should have a voice of a human court bard and the flowery language to match. Srtuyiklonj--whom Shadar and everyone called Silence--looked like a somewhat taller, fatter goblin dressed up in the costume of a death mage from a bad play. The big-eared, green skinned, and grotesquely featured monster came all the way up to Shadar’s chest, and may have looked threatening if not for his ridiculous black robes and necklace of skulls. And his disappointing inability to live up to his name.

“Yes.”

“Yes to what? What did he say?” Eva was now looking between Shadar and the goblin in confusion. They rarely bothered to listen to Silence anymore.

Shadar replied, “The Waste will either be killed fighting against a superior force or they will succeed and achieve a massive victory. Either way all of their efforts will have to be directed against the humans if they want to stay alive.”

“That’s…” Did she look impressed?

“...a poorly thought out plan with way too many variables to work in real life. Do you really want to get an entire nest killed? And if they succeed, will it actually prevent them from moving against you in the slightest? Hells, an actual campaign might be enough to push their Adepts to Masters, or even a Master to Grandmaster!” No, then.

“I would have had to step in at some point. This will delay that, some. Dig?”

The Saurian had remained quiet, only relaying the details of what had happened in the throne room, a few hours ago. After Tangaril had departed, Shadar had slowly repaired the damage to the room, then called a meeting of his advisors in it. Digaratoth, Eva, and Silence. A saurian, a human Lich, and a goblin.

Now the saurian spoke, his lizard-tongue flicking out in between sentences. “I think that it’s Shadar’s first plot, and it’s not terrible. It may actually work, and don’t pretend that it has that many disastrous consequences, my agents will make sure to watch more carefully for any scheming and… malice. To be fair, nothing else we’ve thought of has managed to stop these rebellions. We can treat this as an experiment.”

Eva’s eyes narrowed. “And the dragonling? Why exactly does he need to become a lieutenant? Do you really think he won’t betray you?”

“I trust him.” Shadar replied flatly.

“Fine.” Her words were suddenly clipped, sounding much more like Shadar than herself. “I have to go.”

“Fine.” Shadar tried hard not tinge his voice with irony. But even though the Lich seemed to float out of the room as she usually did, the massive doors slammed closed behind her.