“My lord, there’s been a sighting. A phalanx of dragonborn troops were spotted heading north towards Rell. Their leader matched Gaur’s description.”
The Scalelord turned to face the visitor. The setting sun shone through the palace walls, casting his dark scales in prismatic light.
“My lord, what are your orders? Shall I send for the Greenfangs?” inquired the visitor, rather urgently. Valasar paused a moment, as if considering something, before replying calmly.
“The Greenfangs will not be necessary.”
“But, my lord, is it not wise to enact swift retribution? Cut off a dragon’s head, and the body will perish, no?”
“The Greenfangs failed to deliver last I tasked them with removing that head.” The visitor seemed confused.
“Sire, you knew about Gaur? You suspected him of treason?”
Valasar paused, choosing his words carefully, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Gaur was…unexpected. But he is no longer our priority.”
“My lord, I’m afraid I do not follow.”
Valasar began to descend the steps from the throne, making his way towards the door connecting the throne room to the rest of the palace. He continued speaking as he went, “You wouldn’t. It’s simple really, the Legion have defected – gone north to pledge service to another lord. The two that claim to be my clansmen.”
“My liege, surely that is all the more reason to act swiftly? A legion of troops and a seasoned commander to lead them will lend legitimacy to their claim, no?” The visitor scurried after the Lord Markex, trying to keep pace with him as best he could.
“It is of little concern. One must allow their opponents to posture, to cultivate their hubris. When their arrogance has swelled, and they give challenge, then one makes an example of them. This is how the game is played.”
Scale’s king paused at the door, leaving the visitor with one last remark before departing.
“We must let them make the first move.”