A satisfying thrill spread through Merahn’s body, as the neck in her jaws snapped like a twig. A soft death rattle rolled out of the mercenary’s throat, the soul’s final cry before it left a hollow-eyed body behind to rot. As Merahn raised her head back up, she couldn’t help but smile. Said smile descended into laughter, as she gazed upon her following in her footsteps. The sound those filthy beasts make whenever we gut them like the vermin they are… oh, Divinity bless. Another day, more imperials rotting forever. What more could I ever ask for? No one of the warband they’d ambushed remained. Still not satisfied, she began to tear up the body at her feet. Jolts of electricity surged through her bloodstream. There was no feeling quite like it, to kill those who truly deserved it. Foreign infidels of fortune who polluted Lokahn with their filthy presence, little in the world was lower to Merahn. It had been a few hours of ambushing unsuspecting scouts and mercenaries. Merahn’s companions were panting for a momentary respite. Feeling a little weakened as well, she granted their wish, finding a cozy spot under the evergreens to fall upon much as a sack of bricks would.Her nostrils teemed with the irony stench of blood; the smell of victory. To think that we’re only a dozen souls, and yet we stride from triumph to triumph… if only the others would join us. We’d have them all rotting by the end of the week. A sigh left the grey dragon’s throat, as her gaze fell upon the others resting by the evergreens, their talons coated in red. A gentle drizzle was met by little heed. From the snowcaps on the horizon, to the grass at her feet, quiet called most of the shots, the occasional sneeze or rustle of the wind notwithstanding. A sharp sense of deja vu washed over Merahn. It wouldn’t be the first time a situation such as this emerged, with her pondering. After so many battles, she couldn’t help but wonder. Things beyond governing a petty kingdom in the mountains, beyond waiting for their allies to catch up, beyond letting their home continue to be desecrated. To execute Divinity’s will, as a dragon was meant to do. But no one besides her and a few others saw it that way. The Home Front’s commanders had carved their own little realm out, and appeared content with sacrificing the rest of Lokahn to rule over it. Lothar, Raghes, they had nothing but excuses on the mind. For liberating little beyond hamlets snuggled away in the mountains, for denying mass conscription and mass blessing, there was always an excuse. Merahn worried herself sick over it. She hadn’t devoted her life to Divinity’s teachings for this. Neither had those who shared her beliefs, and had followed her on this secret campaign. A smile crept onto her bloodied lips. At least there’s some who haven’t given into cowardice. There might be hope for Lokahn yet. “Master Merahn?” whined a young dragonlet. “I’m hungry.” He pointed towards the place his heart was buried, eyes as wide as those of a bug. Merahn smiled, and gave him a pat on the head. “No worries, little Chalroth. We’ll go out hunting shortly.” “But, Master,” the green dragon continued, pretending to be on the verge of crying. Merahn didn’t buy it, continuing to smile ever so pleasant. “It’ll be some time still, my little friend. There’s a few things I have to do before we can hunt. Besides, I’ll, uh, have to speak with Lothar on a few things, which I’ll need to think. Until then, keep your horns on straight, yes?” “Okay,” said Chalroth, before walking back to his spot under the pines. Merahn licked at her teeth, and shook her head. Little did Chalroth know of Lothar’s true nature. She hated having to lie about it, but she didn't have much to say on the matter. Lothar would forbid her from ever seeing that bright little spark if he found out what she’d been up to. But perhaps that warning meant the time had come at last. “Veraede? Do you have a moment?” Her white scales beaming bright between the pines, the dragon tilted her head off her forelegs, orange eyes staring unamused. “Is this truly necessary, Merahn? I’m trying to rest here,” she said in a deep tone. Merah nodded. “It’s just something I’d like to discuss with you, in private. A little head-to-head, sister.” A heavy sigh spilled from the white’s jaws, as she pushed herself off the damp ground. “This better be worth it, Merahn. If one imperial ends up escaping because of any ensuing sluggishness on my part, I’ll hold you accountable, just so you know.” “Yes, yes, I get it,” said Merahn, rolling her eyes. “All of us are psyched to kill more savages in Divinity’s name, myself very much included. This isn’t about that.” “Then what is?” “I’ve been thinking, Veraede. About our future in the Home Front. Let me think for a moment, it’s been about… three months since you’ve become one of the Blessed, correct?” Veraede nodded. “Three months, and fourteen days. That’s how long I’ve truly been alive, Merahn. No longer a slave to my father’s business, no longer a pawn of my worthless traitor of a mother. My only regret is not having received the Blessing sooner.” Merahn grew a sinister grin. “Good, good. They were nothing but a burden to you, and our cause.” Inhaling in a deep breath, the grin fizzled out, normalcy taking its place. “Anyway, since you haven’t been with the Home Front for so long, you probably know little of the situation at the top, don’t you?” A growl rumbled deep in the white dragon’s throat. “The only thing that matters to me involving them is the next battle. Those fools aren’t giving me enough to kill. Heathens all over Lokahn, and yet we’re letting them roam free unchecked. People are suffering. Traitors are running rampant. And we are only shepherding the foolish masses out west. Pathetic.” Veraede spat onto the ground beside her. Merahn shook her head. “Unfortunately, I know just how bad it truly is. Pacifists and weaklings are running amok, delaying everything for the sake of… I don’t know. I’ve been with them for well over eight years now. We could have reconquered Lokahn a dozen times over were it not for them. To think of all those years we remained aloof on the insistence of certain fools… all the Draconists who were murdered by Imperial hands… it sickens me,” she said, then growled. “Then Merahn, is there anything we can do to show those cowards what our true purpose is? This idleness is borderline treasonous!” shouted Veraede, a small ember cast forth from her jaws. “Do you think I suffered years of oppression, years of agony, years of listening to the cretins I called family, who so proudly align themselves with that wretched queen?” The red dragon’s aroma turned bitter with anger, an anger Merahn was all too glad to breathe in. “Of course you haven’t, sister. I have tried for years, there is no changing them. They’re content lumbering around while Lokahn burns. Even Lord Lothar would rather spend time coddling his cowardly scamp of a son over taking the fight to the enemy! Damn them all!” Merahn paused, her growl-like breaths striking fear into the rodents scurrying through the grass. “Tell me, how do you feel about forming our own movement? One formed on honor, not on weakness,” she said, gazing stern into the twin orange abysses. For the love of Divinity, say yes... Veraede held her head high, the tip of her chin risen into the sky. “Didn’t need to ask. You’re the only dragon in the whole rebellion with the strength to finish this. Wherever you go, I will follow.” A grin twisted its way onto Merahn’s snout. “Then let us enlighten the others to this idea, yes?” * * * The trickle turned into a pour. With no sign of the skies clearing any time soon, Merahn instructed everyone to find shelter. A hungry Chalroth lodged a small complaint, one Merahn stilled with a smile. His impatience was only natural after all, given his age. The entire company took wing, and went searching. A trivial task, given the Origin Mountains had no lack of grottos or small caves nestled amidst the dark rock and lazy old pines. After a ten minute search, one of the males roared for everyone’s attention, and after another ten minutes they had come back together in a dry cave. A deluge struck the outside world. The dragons gathered around a small campfire in their grotto. Merahn cleared her throat, and began to pace around the circle of her followers. “Brothers and sisters, we need to talk. I’m sure many of you have followed me,” she paused to take a breath, “...because you were hoping for more. You all have a fire burning in your hearts, a fire for Draconism.” An olive-scaled dragon spoke up. “Hoping for more? Hah!” he chortled, “That’s underselling how disappointed I am. I was hoping to fight for Divinity, not sleep around all day! My lust for freedom knows no end, and those damned Commanders won’t let me sate it!” “The Justitian filth roams free, and yet we aren’t taking the fight to them,” an old dragon shouted, “I swear in Divinity’ name, I could slaughter them all myself if I could!” Merahn nodded along, her wings flicking open and close. “Good, good. Indeed, we’re all here out of love for the divine, hallowed be his name. To live, fight, and die, for Divinity and country. Sadly, it appears some in the Home Front’s midsts have… different views on the matter. You’ve seen it for yourselves, haven’t you? You accepted the Blessing when all hope seemed lost, when Lokahn was under the infidel’s domination, you fought hard to liberate Westedge, seeing so many of your fellow brothers and sisters die… and for what? For fools to run amok, I tell you!” “Have you witnessed it all for yourselves?” asked Veraede, as she pushed herself back to all fours. Her eyes glowed ferociously, as they gazed over the other dragons. “Lord, commander, warrior and soldier alike, all too busy enjoying themselves as the rest of Lokahn burns… unacceptable. We swore an oath. There will be no rest for dragonkind, until the last drop of blood is spilled, and the last tree has been restored to the fatherland. I will not stand for forsaking this promise, and neither should you.” “That’s right!” yelled the old dragon. “What do we do now, then?” asked another. “Didn’t you once say yourself that the Home Front’s leadership is far too stubborn? How could we possibly steer them back onto the right path?” A throaty laugh spilled out of Merahn’s throat. “Simple. We do not. We walk our own path towards freedom, one where those with true bravery are venerated, instead of ridiculed! We’re not bound by the Home Front’s whims, but by something far greater. I swear, our hallowed army will rise, and take back Lokahn! Who is with me?” An immense collective roar filled the cave. Merahn’s followers, young and old alike, were all too happy to hear the plan. These were the most radical Draconists of all, and had no trouble blurring the line between man and beast wherever it was needed. Woe to any Justitian who encounters them, for whatever weeps and breaths they may utter will be their very last. Veraede chuckled. “I don’t think Lord Lothar will approve of what we’re doing here.” A devilish grin spread across Merahn’s snout. “Then let us pay him a visit, shall we? That golden coward ought to know, after all.”