Vyviir had gone ahead of the two lesser beings and had begun to reorganize the part of his horde that was stationed here. In typical dragon fashion, everything here had a place, and when something of great value was added, the whole arrangement needed to be, well, rearranged to make the whole aesthetic of the horde work together.

It was a bit like Feng Shui, if Feng Shui involved moving and reshaping massive piles of various precious metal and gems, among other such things such as rare art pieces and the statues of people who once were living men, women, and children. So, maybe it was more like a discerning devil reorganizing their collection of ill-gotten gains than Feng Shui, but the fact remained that Vyviir was taking inordinate care to set up a place for what would soon be the most valuable addition to his collection in the whole of his very, very, long life.

As he set the last piece in place, he snarled at nobody as a piercing headache rocked him. He had been having those a lot recently, ever since he last woke up from his sleep when Vaile, the fool, arrived here.

“Fool?” Vyviir paused as his mind processed what he had just thought. He was about to further question his reasoning for why such a respected and loved person would ever be called a ‘fool’, let alone viewed as anything but his Lord, but another headache forced his eyes closed and his lips back as his teeth clenched to the point where any lesser dragon’s entire jaw would have cracked under the strain.

“Yes…. A fool…. He is no ‘Lord’…. Just someone who dares to stand against the inevitable…. It is my duty to start the chain reaction, to make the first domino fall, and thereby end this who farce. The only freedom that waits for us is the freedom of oblivion. That he dares to try and give us anything but that is sacrilege and betrayal, and proof that he is no ‘lord’, just an ignorant, foolish insect that must be dealt with when possible.”

Vyviir looked over his horde and sighed. The arrangement of everything was all wrong. He had been in the wrong state of mind when he had done this a few moments ago, and now this whole thing needed a new direction.

It needed to be more ‘dragon-y’, with random bits and bobs just tossed around to be more fitting of a true dragon’s lair. With his headaches subsiding for now, he took a deep breath and got to work.

…

“As much as I would love to take more time before this inevitable encounter, I fear father, or what pretends to be him, will not take too kindly to us not arriving at his location in the timeframe he desires.”

Monarkea’s words were heavy, as while she hoped that Vyviir was not fully someone else, let alone completely replaced by something else, she knew that, in his current state, Vyviir was far, far less predictable than he had been before this point. He once treated his heir with respect, and treated Lord Vaile, though not having seen him since the New World began, as a near godlike figure, worthy of respect, admiration, and devotion.

Now, though? To say he was disrespectful would be an understatement, as he had, just a few hours ago, ‘accidentally’ knocked an illusionary version of Lord Vaile off a cliff to what could possibly have been his death. Likewise, his boundless pride and ambition had morphed into something even more intense and destructive than it had ever been before.

He was once a careful planner, but now he displayed his ambition on his sleeve and lashed out like a newly hatched whelp at everyone who looked at him funny. If he were but a normal dragon, or even a Greatwyrm, he would have been easy enough to deal with or even disregard, but he was Vyviir the Ancient, the most powerful draconid in existence, and to feel his fury, even for one such as Monarkea, was a death sentence and a half.

“Prepare yourself, my Lord. My father likes to reorganize his numerous hordes every single time he gets something new and valuable, so you’ll be in for a treat. Hopefully, the thing that is pretending to be him hasn’t dishonored that part of his existence just yet…”

Vaile shook his head.

“Have you ever heard of something called a ‘flag’ in terms of scenarios and events?”

Monarkea nodded. “Yes, I’ve long grown accustomed to setting such things up in my endless games. Why do you… oh, fuck.”

Vaile sighed and nodded solemnly and with a hint of disappointed acceptance.

“You don’t think…?”

“Monny… Can I call you that?”

“It is fine.”

“Well, Monny, in my many travels and escapades here in this New World, I’ve learned that not only are flags very, very real, but also that they, once raised, can almost never be stopped save by extreme measures. I find it likely that whatever semblance of order that Vyviir once had in this horde that is here has long since been cast aside in favor of random placement.”

Monarkea shuddered. To do such a thing was childish at best, and an act worthy of ridicule at worst. No dragon worth their salt would ever even consider making one of those hordes that the lesser creatures seemed to always assume existed. There was always order, always intent behind the placement of the most valuable pieces, and always care taken to make sure that those more valuable parts of the horde would not suffer any undue damage.

If her father, the ruler of dragonkind, had truly fallen to that level…

“Then we must hurry and stop him before it is too late!” Monarkea shouted, picking up Vaile by the scruff of his cloak with one of her claws before tossing him onto her back.

“Oh, but Monny, it is almost certainly already too late…” Vaile muttered in defeat, but Monarkea had not heard him and was already rushing towards the shock of a lifetime.