Born of Dragons

He felt a surge of satisfaction. There was always a kind of joy in knowing that things had gone as he had planned them, whether it was the conquest of a hunted creature, a woman, or a kingdom.

He had felt the same satisfaction when he had taken the throne from his father so many years before, had felt a touch of it with each group of Quiet Men that infiltrated the Northern Kingdom at his command, each spy who brought back more details of the landscape, the villages, the supplies. He had planned every detail of the conquest to come, and now it was unfolding exactly as it should.

He knew his men would be watching him then, waiting for more commands. Already, a dozen of his ships were attacking the city, but the rest waited, held in place by his authority. Not a man would have dared to act without his command, and not just because they all knew that to do so was death for them and their families. Every man there knew that they only had a part of the whole, that only their king understood the whole of the plan.

That was as it should be. A king who gave away all the plans he had did not remain king for long. Look at his fool of a father, who had trusted Ravin with every thought, every idea. It had made the kingdom easy to unify when he was gone.

“Well?” Ravin said, turning back toward the deck of the ship. Commanders waited there, one from the fleet, one from the soldiers, and a third dressed in the ordinary clothing of the Quiet Men. There was also a scholar carrying a note from a messenger bird. Because he looked the most terrified, Ravin kept him waiting, pointing at the fleet’s admiral instead.

“Your majesty,” the man said. “The voyage from Leveros has produced minimal losses. The advance party has landed troops as you commanded, and is now back in position with the fleet. The other ships await your command to move in on the coast.”

Ravin turned his attention to the commander of the troops he had sent to Astare. “And you?”

The man bowed. “Your majesty, the assault on the city is already proceeding. It has minimal defenses, and we anticipate being in full control of it within hours. The men have been instructed to kill all who resist.”

“And my Quiet Men?” Ravin asked the third figure there.

“Are in place in settlements within the kingdom, ready to receive your troops on the march from Astare to Royalsport,” the man said.

King Ravin nodded. Finally, he turned to the frightened messenger. “You are going to tell me that my forces in the south have been defeated.”

It wasn’t a question, but even so, the man nodded. “King Godwin fell in the fighting, and Prince Rodry is dead, but they managed to recover Princess Lenore, and the bridge was destroyed with your forces upon it,” the man choked out.

King Ravin shrugged, and he saw the messenger’s eyes widen in surprise at that. “Did you think I didn’t anticipate any of this?” he asked. “The attack on the south was always destined to fail, and if they have recovered one princess, what do I care?”

Not that the princess wouldn’t be his in due course. Everything in the Northern Kingdom would be. He strode to the side of the ship, taking in the vastness of his fleet. So many men stood ready there, from all parts of his kingdom. There were tribesmen from the deserts and armored city dwellers, former pirates from the coast and slave legionnaires who had never known anything but violence. All wore the red of his colors now; all wore the same armor.