Aark and I spent two weeks traveling northwest toward the Firescale Tribe's location, which had given us plenty of time to converse and get to know each other.

I found out that he was only twelve years old, six years into adulthood by kobold standards. He had hatched into a typical life under the Savage Tooth Tribe, where he was taught trapmaking, group battle tactics, and of course, how to mine effectively. Aark quickly realized that he had little in common with his brethren, and found himself perpetually bored. The only activities he really enjoyed at home were hunting expeditions, and even more so, risking life and limb to fend off encroaching beasts and monsters.

The more he volunteered for frontline duty, the more his tribesmen looked at him like he had a screw loose, and as kobolds generally lacked a sense of familial attachment, Aark's odd nature left him without anyone he could feel close to. Upon turning ten, he decided to leave home and venture into the unknown. Eventually, he stumbled upon Dragon's Mortal Sanctuary, where he met Rarn, who took him in and looked after him.

Aark was delighted to meet another of his kind who was interested in the outside world and was quickly enamored by the tales and epics Rarn had translated from the village library. In particular, the theme of heroism and overcoming incredible odds captivated him. Aark came to believe that if he could become a renowned hero, kobold society might find in him a symbol that could lead them away from their cowardly and xenophobic ways.

Though he had explained all this to me with much more basic language, I still realized that my cute minion carried more intelligence and depth than I had given him credit for. While he was simple, pure of heart, and not very well-spoken, these attributes masked both his forward-thinking vision and ambition. The more I spent time with him, the more pleased I was with my choice of the first follower.

When it came to what he wished to learn about me, however...

"What is Lord Amartho's favorite gem?" Aark asked.

I groaned.

"Rubies... Aark, I know I encouraged you to get comfortable asking me things you'd like to know, but that was the twenty-seventh one-dimensional question you've given me. Favorite meat, favorite color, favorite type of weapon, favorite trap, favorite mineral, what kind of people I like, and so forth... I have to ask, why? Why are you fixated on the things I like and nothing else?!" I did my best not to sound too frustrated.

"Rrr... because it's good to know! And.... because Lord Amartho is Lord Amartho!" He answered as if his response explained everything.

"Does he think I'm testing him? Or can he not fathom why I find his manner of questioning to be peculiar?' I thought, baffled by the density of his skull. I needed to try a different approach.

"Aark, I want you to explain it to me as you would to a human who had never met or heard of me before. Can you do that?"

"Yes! As Lord Amartho wishes!" Aark puffed out his chest confidently. "Aark would tell silly human that, as Supreme Dragon Lord Amartho's first minion, Aark should know all his master's things he likes most and least. And, since Lord Amartho knows best, Aark will also get to learn what is best and worst way to think.

'God damn it, I should have realized sooner. He's only been asking questions so he can serve me and copy my views on subjects that are meaningful to him. His lower status is so ingrained in his DNA that he can't even imagine getting to know me as a comrade. If I don't nip this in the bud, he's going to warp his entire worldview around my tastes!' I grimaced at the thought.

"Aark, while I appreciate your intention, I don't want you to assume my way of thinking and acting is always best. Dragons are capable of making mistakes, just like every other being, and there are skills and knowledge you have, that I lack. For example, do you think I know more than you about excavating caves?"

He nodded without hesitation, prompting me to facepalm.

"Well, you'd be wrong. I'm just a wyrmling and there is very little about this world I know about, and I know absolutely nothing about mining. So, if I suggested some major change in how to mine for gems that didn't make sense to you, wouldn't make sense to question me?"

"Rrr... but if Lord Amartho knows that he doesn't know about mining, and still says to make big change, then Lord Amartho probably thought long and much first, and found good reason kobolds not yet see, yes? So Aark thinks it good to just follow Lord Amartho's command and try mining new way." He answered proudly, like a student who believed he just got full marks on his final exam.

'Fuck me, he's kind of got a point. I am the type that's careful not to opine on shit I don't know about. Still, he shouldn't assume these things! You know what? I'm giving up for now. Rome wasn't built in a day. Gotta pick your battles, Amartho, you'll get through to him eventually.' I consoled myself.

"Nevermind. Just... I don't want my top minions l to blindly follow orders, okay? If something I suggest doesn't make sense to you, or you have the slightest reason to believe an order I give will have a bad outcome, question me. This is part of your duty."

Aark quickly took the traditional kneeling position and shouted, "Yes, Aark will obey Lord Amartho's command!"

I decided to settle on having him do the right thing for the wrong reason. The rest of our travels went much the same, with Aark trying to figure out how to be the best minion while I tried to figure him out.

The only other detail that caught my attention was his ability to hunt despite being a solitary kobold. Every time we set up camp, he'd go off on his own, armed with nothing but a sling and a spear he fashioned out of my claw, and return with some slain birds or small mammals. This was important because it meant I could indulge in a meaty snack from time to time, getting a break from my dwindling supply of fairy fruit, and because it helped me procrastinate the bridge I'd likely have to cross of killing cute animals to satiate my ever-growing appetite.

Oh, and my previous concerns about sleeping while exposed in the wilderness? Aark laughed those off, thinking that I was joking was really just worried for his sake.

"Ar ar ar!" He laughed. "Not many animals with good nose willing to approach dragon scent. Even dumb ogres would think twice before poke sleeping wyrmling, and they hate thinking!" He laughed again, then scratched his head. "Though Aark is still confused why many small birds and animals always coming around all friendly to visit Lord Amartho. And if Aark may ask, why is Aark not allowed to eat them and must go hunt animals far away?"

"They're friendly because of an ability I gained during that meeting with the Fey I told you about. Actually, hmm... you attacking them might be a loophole." I answered, recalling that I'd lose the blessing if I harmed them. "But, that's not a theory I'd like to test. The shortest answer to your question is that I like them and eating them would feel like I betrayed them. I try to be good to those who are good to me."

Ark easily agreed, then joked that my charm was so great, it even affected animals. I took solace in how his mood and humor had become even brighter and a smidgen more relaxed since we started our journey. For all our differences, the little guy offered a steady supply of optimism and unwavering confidence in me that I appreciated.

Finally, one morning during my post-meditation flight, I spotted a few kobold scouting groups. I roared a greeting to get their attention, then landed on a hill between the closest group of scouts and where I left Aark. That way both parties would reach me around the same time.

Sure enough, this new batch of kobolds hailed from the Firescale tribe and they were beyond thrilled that I wanted to visit. They were extremely agreeable to my request of heading directly to their tribe so I could address them as a whole.

After another couple of days of travel by foot, we arrived. Instead of a cave, they had chosen to live in a strange fissure that seemed to appear out of nowhere in these hilly grasslands. Before the scouts could announce my arrival, I put my powerful vocal cords to good use.

"Amartho'Manadhmedion, firstborn of the Worldscar and Herald of Hope, greets the Firescale Tribe! Come and meet your new, temporary dragon lord!" I bellowed, and as expected, hordes of kobolds climbed out of the chasm and began prostrating themselves before me."

What I did not expect, however, was the nudity. There were kobold private parts as far as the eye could see. In fact, one would be more likely to spot a kobold wearing a hat or decorative jewelry than pants and underwear.

"Act normal Amartho." I reminded myself. "It's part of their culture, and I can't exactly ask hundreds of naked little lizard people to all to start sewing pants for my sake. Actually, they probably would if I asked but that's too much. And I suppose I'm just a giant naked lizard person myself. Wait... I've been naked this whole time!"

A wave of dread flooded through my entire being as I finally realized that, since my hatching, I've been going around in nothing but my birthday suit. My mind must have been shielding me from realizing this, even as I peed on trees much like a dog, or made plant fertilizer because the revelation was hitting me like a ton of bricks.

While more and more kobolds climbed out to greet me, I snuck a glance between my legs. To my horror, I was greeted by the sight of my sheathed dragon d*ck. I quickly looked back at the army of naked kobolds and made failing attempts to convince myself, that as a dragon, I had nothing to be embarrassed by. Thankfully, a second unexpected event interrupted my cringefest.

A three-foot-tall, winged, dragonwrought kobold (a kobold with a higher concentration of dragon blood) descended from the skies and landed in front of me. He wore some creature's skull on his head and carried a dark wooden wand. Two curved horns emerged from the back of his skull, and patches of orange scales ran down his back and wings. He too was nude.

He kneeled before me and spoke. "Prince Amartho, I can't believe you're really here! I heard your mighty voice echo while I was enjoying myself a flight. I came as fast as I could! It's this lowly one's greatest pleasure to finally meet you face to face!"

I recognized his voice instantly.

"Teacher." I smiled, "You better be ready to tell me your name."

It was a lucky boon to run into one of my egg-jail mentors at the first tribe I visited. To my surprise, he was now entirely open about himself. He energetically let me know that he had taken the name Rahga, was over two hundred years old, had over seventy children, and was known as the best fire sorcerer of all the kobold tribes on Dragon's Head. He also couldn't wait for me to meet his apprentices and help me practice magic.

When I asked what changed to make him so talkative, he told me that the only reason he and my other mentors refused to give me specific details about their lives during my eggy-confinement was that my mother had specifically ordered them not to, as well as to keep that secret from me so long as I was in my egg-state. In her words, she didn't want my head filled with "trivial matters" while I was still developing. It seemed that I had a small bone to pick with mom when I got home.

I let the kobolds return to their lives, and followed them through the widest part of the fissure to get myself settled in. A feast was thrown to celebrate my arrival, with the kobolds bringing out their freshest supply of fruits and meats. A startling number of wheelbarrows carrying gems and minerals were brought out for my consumption.

During our meal, Rahga gladly provided me the names of my other teachers and marked their tribes' territories on my map, as well as that of Rem's. He explained that they had all bonded over the shared experience of tutoring me, even going so far as forming a kind of fan group in which they'd meet up to discuss how to improve their curriculums. I was equal parts touched and disturbed by the level of effort they had put in behind the scenes. A kobold's devotion to dragons was not to be underestimated.

Rahga, however, had no idea that Rem had a mean-spirited title, nor where it originated. It simply never came up during their get-togethers. Asking the Firescale chief, Sjigg, would also have to wait, as he was currently out on a war expedition. He was constantly burdened with the task of securing their borders from the local trolls, and wouldn't be back for weeks.

The frequent skirmishes with trolls were an indirect consequence of the Firescale Tribe having an above-average birthrate of kobolds gifted with fire sorcery. This specialization led to them being tasked by the other tribes with acting as the vanguard in keeping the troll population at bay, and in exchange, they were rewarded with prime real estate. The fissure they made into their home was a Dragon's Vein, a rare underground area that would naturally produce high amounts of magical gems and metals.

And as for why this was important to kobolds? On Angnora, dragons had their passions but it was kobolds who were hoarders of treasure. This was due to a few reasons:

First, gems and metals were particularly nutritious for dragons. Thus, kobolds could buy a dragon's protection or aid by offering up their hoard as food. Dragons could hunt on their own, but should they embark on a task that would take vast amounts of time, or reside in an area without much fauna or flora, it was very convenient to seek out kobolds and stock up on a meal. Older dragons in particular would require a large amount of matter to eat until full, so being fed by kobolds saved them a lot of hassle. Almost every dragon over a few centuries old would have a tribe or two under its command.

Second, it helped them barter with other races. This was a double-edged sword, as it was also the reason why kobolds were so often targeted by adventurers and raiders, which in turn led to the commonplace xenophobia found in kobolds. Should a tribe require or want resources that other races produced, they'd have to risk their own safety to attempt a trade. Adventurers in other continents would often go out of their way to massacre kobolds in search of wealth. This, of course, didn't happen on a continent run by dragons, resulting in the tribes on Dragon's Head having a more neutral disposition toward outsiders.

Third, in the words of the kobolds: "Shinies are good!"

It was simply part of their nature to enjoy mining and collecting valuables. And since dragons and the wellbeing of the tribe came first, there was no conflict with this and the first reason. The greediest of kobolds might feel some pain in watching my kind eat from their collection, but the vast majority felt it to be an honor and the primary purpose of their hoard. Plus, since dragons couldn't care less about wealth beyond its utility, we'd just take the fraction we needed for our purposes and leave the rest.

While I was listening to all this information, I crunched some gems between my teeth and found my tastebuds blasted with pure bliss. I couldn't believe that minerals could taste citrusy and savory. I stopped shoveling clawfuls into my mouth and started eating them one by one to find which gems had triggered my delight.

Two in particular that captivated my palette, a small diamond-like gem that glowed slightly, and an opalescent stone with tints of yellow instead of blue and green.

"What are these called?" I asked Rahga.

"Ah, those are a moongem and a starstone. Do they please you, Prince Amartho?" He replied.

"I think they might be the best things I've ever eaten. Aark, take note. Rubies don't matter, these are my new favorite."

Aark agreed and I started storing more moongems and starstones into my ring for later consumption. The sight of which made Rahga's mouth drop open.

"A d-d-dimensional artifact?!" He squeaked.

"Hmm? This?" I asked, pointing at my ring. "My mother gave this to me, but she made it sound like it was a cheap trinket she had laying around. It is pretty handy though. it can even resize itself to fit its wearer. Is it actually a big deal?"

Rahga gulped. "Yes! Perhaps your illustrious mother truly cares little for it, but sire, dimensional magic is categorized as one of the four divine branches of spellcasting. If it isn't impolite, may I ask how much space it contains?"

"Oh damn! I mean sure, its capacity is about a large crate's worth of supplies." I mimed out an invisible cube with my claws to give him an approximation. "Is that a lot or a little?"

Rahga was, at first, too stunned to reply. After a deep breath he answered, "Prince Amartho, such a ring would definitely be valued as a dynasty-level artifact. Particularly because it condenses a large space into such a small object, and because of its feature which makes it suitable to be used by just about anyone. I feel I must inform you, that even considering the quality of your mother's unimaginable collection of items, that ring was likely among the best-enchanted items she had. She must have a lot of faith in you."

If dragons could blush I'd have turned bright red. My recent judgments toward my mother now seemed childish. It wasn't that I suddenly felt I was wrong just because I now knew I received an incredible gift, but that it made me realize how little I understood her perspective. I was looking at a powerful creature, thousands of years old, through the experiences of a slightly above-average thirty-year-old man turned dragon baby. I'd have to learn to shelve my Earthly standards if I was ever going to reconcile with this world. It was time to start behaving as a dragon should.

"I'll need you to tell me more about these advanced magics when we resume our lessons," I told Rahga, eager to gain more of this world's common sense. "But before that, I thought of how I'd like to help the tribe. Would you like to go troll-slaying with me tomorrow? And before you start telling me otherwise, I insist on helping in some way."

Many of the nearby kobolds that were listening in started yipping excitedly at the announcement of my aid.

"Since you put it that way, Prince Amartho, this lowly one is honored to fight by your side!" Rahga exclaimed, slapping his fist in the palm of his hand.

"Does Lord Amartho wish for Aark to come?" Aark asked hopefully.

"Not this time." I shook my head. "It's just going to be my trial run for lethal combat. Teacher and I will cover more ground flying alone. Don't worry, I might have something for you to do. Teacher?"

"Yes, young prince?" Rahga cocked his head to the side.

"You seem too knowledgeable for a sorcerer, no offense. I'm guessing you've had a lot of contact with Dragon's Mortal Sanctuary."

"How very astute of you." Rahga praised. "Yes, long ago I sought out the Sanctuary in the hope of finding a means to increase the strength of my spells. It is thanks to a few, frighteningly powerful individuals residing there sharing their great knowledge with me that I have my position today."

"And by any chance did you learn how to read and write in common there? And if so, do you teach it to your apprentices?" I asked hopefully.

"Why yes. I did, and I do. Our language has too many differences from common-tongue, so it's best they learn to read from original texts rather than risk a magical disaster due to something being lost in translation." Rahga patiently answered, waiting for me to explain where this was going.

"Great! Then I'd like your apprentices to teach Aark here how to read, as well as how to write in common. He's a bright spirit and I can't have him waste that potential in illiteracy." I grinned.

"Lord Amartho?!" Aark squeaked.

"It will be done, young prince," Rahga promised.

Aark looked at me like I was sending him off to be tortured, so I winked at him and added,

"You better do your best in studying! The ability to read and write is extremely useful for adventurers, and even more so for first minions! If you want to repay me for the spear, then surely some books aren't too much of an obstacle for you to conquer."

"Rrr... Books no defeat Aark! Aark will try for Lord Amartho!" He swore.

With everything proceeding as I wanted, I returned to feasting and began mentally preparing myself for murdering some monsters.

"Alright, Amartho, tomorrow we kill some baddies. Big, mean ol' trolls. It's better that I choose this of my own volition than have my first killings thrust upon me by uncontrolled future events. You got this." I reassured myself.

But nothing could have prepared me for what followed.

The next day, I flew east toward some woods with Rahga and a couple of his dragonwrought apprentices. I had spent the previous night sleeping outside of the tribe's fissure due to the uncomfortable noise produced by countless kobold couples' fornication keeping me awake. They had some ridiculous superstition that copulating on the day of a dragon's arrival increased the odds of producing dragonwrought babies. Did I mention that caverns echo? Because they do. As such, I was eager to focus on the task ahead and flush my memory banks.

"So, uh, I just want to check, there are no such thing as good or friendly trolls, right?" I asked my teacher. "Like, they're all entirely evil vicious bastards?"

One of the wonders of the draconic language was that it auto-magically carried itself far through wind, allowing us to talk easily while flying.

"Prince Amartho," Rahga responded, "a troll would take immense glee in ripping limbs off a child, then beating them to death with their own severed legs. They'd even enjoy doing so against children of their own kind!"

Rahga had already taught me that such infighting would usually be pointless for trolls, due to their incredible regenerative abilities. While not as fast as in stories, an Angnorran troll could regrow a limb within minutes, and reattach a freshly cut arm almost instantly. Even cutting off their heads would only temporarily inconvenience them, but Angnorran trolls did have a spot deep in the center of their brain that would kill them if too heavily damaged. Though, penetrating their thick skulls made this difficult for the average combatant.

Fortunately, they also had a weakness to acid and fire. The former would greatly slow their rate of regeneration, and the latter would permanently inflict damage. With our fiery breaths, dragons might well be considered the natural bane of a troll's existence. A concept I'd soon put to the test.

My company was excited to aid me in battle, but they were also visibly nervous. Before being veterans, kobolds were still kobolds and thus, were uncomfortable fighting without a large group of their buddies backing them up. Even if my presence was reassuring, Rahga had previously explained to me that kobold sorcerers normally fought from the rear while a group of warriors took the pressure off them. Fire magic wasn't known for its defensive capabilities, and my companions were worried that a mere heavy stone thrown by a troll might put them permanently out of commission.

I gave my assurance that I only wanted them to assume a supporting role, and to retreat at the first indication that we were losing the fight. While they gave me brave reassurances about fighting to the end with me in response, I could see the visible relief on their faces after receiving my permission to flee. In a way, their cowardice made me feel braver.

"Three trolls, due north!" Shouted Yug, one Rahga's apprentices.

I turned my neck and saw them, nine-foot-tall (274cm) greyish-green brutes, with long greasy knotted hair, permanently snarling expressions, and beady eyes. Their unnatural long arms and clawed fingers advertised their love of grappling and eviscerating foes.

"That explains the slight stink in the air," I replied. Although those particular trolls were currently downwind from us, being in their territory meant I had long since picked up on something faint but foul. "Alright, I'm going to attempt a fly-by kill on one of them. You guys stay back."

With a few mighty flaps, I entered into an arcing dive toward my foes. The wind screamed past the sides of my face, and the sight of three monsters drawing closer and closer made my instincts kick in, quieting my thoughts until all that remained was a single, murderous focus.

Right as I neared the maximum range of my breath attack, I began flapping my wings to slow my descent, the sound of which alerted my prey. All three trolls spotted me and began to holler while turning to run, but it was far too late.

"RAHHHHHHHH!"

With my warcry, I unleashed white dragonfire on the biggest of the three, who let out terrible shrieks of agony and curled up into a ball in an instinctive but futile attempt to ward off the scorching hell.

It writhed around desperately at first, but 10 seconds later its shrieking had ceased and I found myself hovering over a blackened corpse. As I circled back to regroup with my kobold party members and pursue the trolls that fled, I was briefly dizzied by the nauseating stench of my still burning victim. Its hair, skin, meat, and fat all had their own distinctly awful odors for my powerful nose to endure. I tried to put it out of my mind, roaring to my kobolds, "Come! Pursue them! Tie one down for me to finish off after I slay the other! If it gives you too much trouble, you can kill it yourselves or escape!"

We soon caught up and were directly overhead of the two trolls still running for their lives. I blew a fireball between them, forcing them to split up to dodge.

Rahga and his apprentices landed in a triangle formation around the troll closer to them. They conjured flaming whips before the troll could react and struck out simultaneously. Their fire coiled around the troll's legs, arms, and neck, sizzling its flesh and making it scream. Rahga then cast a quick incantation, transforming the fiery strands into fiery chains.

"We have him under control, Prince Amartho! We can hold out!" My teacher shouted.

I landed about 30 feet(10m) in front of the other troll, cutting off its path of escape. I could have finished it with another blast of fire, but I vaguely got the sense I was a bit stronger than even this hulking brute and felt I should test out my melee capabilities. It growled at me warily, spreading its arms out and crouching into a primitive combat stance. I took a galloping leap toward the troll to claw its head off. Big mistake.

Mid-jump, the full extent of the troll's filthy scent hit me, stunning me and causing my attack to falter. Before I knew it I found my front claws digging through its rubbery hide, just below each of its shoulders, fighting against its attempts to raise its arms and grapple me.

I made incoherent sounds and cries of revulsion as I gagged on the devastating stink and attempted to extricate myself. Unfortunately, all the flailing resulted in my right claw slipping out of the troll's already healing puncture holes, and it took the opportunity to grab my arm and try to rip it out of its socket. My body was far too sturdy for that, so we entered a brief, chaotic and violent stalemate as I clawed around randomly to no avail.

The problem was that my strength only slightly exceeded its own, and between my inexperience, turning stomach, and a troll growling its rancid mouth in my face, I couldn't make any coherent moves. Finally, I kicked forward with one of my hind legs and sliced through its stomach, revealing steaming entrails and the contents within. A whole new horror of sensation and stank wafted over me as I craned my neck and saw my foot covered in the gunk of its guts and feces.

"Oh God, no!" I begged/gagged, and in a move of insane desperation, I ripped out the troll's throat with my teeth. Big mistake number two.

There are no words in any language to describe the taste I experienced that day. If I hadn't lost my cool, the experiences of my dragon ancestors that inherited through my blood might have warned me against such a foolish action, but alas, I had long since lost the ability to formulate any rational thought. A stronger dragon might have been able to weather both the smell and taste better than I did, but my time on Earth had softened my tolerance to negative sensations.

The only good news was that my bite caused the troll to release me in favor of clutching at its throat, as it was choking on its own blood. While its torn neck was healing, I, out of pure instinct to distance myself from my source of suffering, activated my Fey Blessing for a speed boost in-flight and leaped away so hard that I only ended up crashing and tumbling backward. As I attempted to get up I instead began to retch. I vomited up blood, bile, small bits of troll, and molten gems covered in white flames, my morning breakfast.

"Fuck! I can still taste it between my teeth!" I cried out between instances of puking. I started releasing multiple quick puffs of fire to burn the vile substance in my mouth to ash, which helped.

The troll roared, getting my attention. Fully healed, It seemed to find courage in my obvious distress and began charging toward me. I glared at it like it was the greatest evil I would ever encounter, and unleashed the full weight of my presence, stopping it in its tracks, trembling in fear.

"No." I snarled, embers rising out the sides of my mouth.

"No!" I screamed fire, burning the troll alive.

"NO!!!" I roared once more, breathing my most intense cone of dragonfire yet unto the already motionless corpse until it was nearly obliterated.

I panted in place for a while, then walked over to the final troll. It was still rolling around, wailing and bound by the magical chains of fire.

"Are you alright, Prince Amartho?" Asked Rahga, looking genuinely concerned.

I only let out another breath of fire, silencing the remaining enemy as a response.

The kobolds sat quietly, waiting for me to address them. I retrieved some moongems and starstones from my ring to eat and refresh my tastebuds.

When I was finished, I turned toward the three and said, "Trolls... trolls might just be the worst tasting creature in existence."

"What do you wish to do now, young prince?" Asked Rahga.

"Let's head back and begin formulating a plan to eradicate this troll menace. If it's feasible, I'll help you end your war for the greater good of the world."

The two apprentices seemed delighted by my intended course of action, but my teacher, having known my normal demeanor from my time in the egg, looked worried.

On the flight back I kept to myself and reviewed both what I could have done better and what I had learned from my first battle.

'What a miserable experience. Fighting an opponent on anything even close to 'even ground', like with brute strength, is not something I enjoy. It's messy, uncomfortable, stressful, and all-around terrible. Fighting from a distance is way better than fighting up close. And most importantly...'

"From now on, if I'm going to fight at all, I'll win with overwhelming force."