“You can debate all you want on whether you’ll side with Second Prince Theron, or Third Prince Cain. So long as it's not the Bastard Pretender. Are dragons to drop on their knees and grovel at the feet of the Holy Church now? I think not.”
Sir Harold Seafyre slams his Dragonheart Imperium dagger onto the obsidian war table, the steel’s hum reverberating through the stone halls of Pyrestone Keep. The sudden clang silences the chamber, lords, cousins, commanders, and heirs hold their breath. Even Lord Walter Seafyre, the old and brooding Lord Protector of Seafyre Province and Warden of Seafyre Bay, leans forward in surprise.
The table is shaped like a dragon in flight, and the dagger now pierces its heart.
“Mind your temper, Harold,” Lord Walter casts a piercing and sharp look at his neph
