Perched atop of a dark wooden bird stand, a raven opened its eyes, its pupils shifting into the shape of a red hexagram star. It cawed wildy over the dimly lit study room, where bookshelves were embedded into the twenty-foot-high walls. At the far end of the study room, fire crackled on the hearth of a stone fireplace. Above it a banner of a leafless tree with a crimson background. Before the fireplace, an oversized accent chair with a small table on its left side. A person sat on it only his hands were visible as he reached for the teacup and plate at the table and stopped as he heard the cawing of the raven in the background. He placed back the teacup and plate at the table and rose from his chair. His shadow mirrors the dancing of the fire from the hearth, but it stretched and slithered like a snake to the direction of where the raven was cawing. From the shadow below the man emerged from the shadow facing the raven who was cawing and flapping its wings wildly. His right hand touched the head of the raven comforting the raven, then later grabbed its neck and broke it. Then took its left eye and crushed it, blood flowed from his right hand then a hexagram star emerged from his palm as he opened it.
"Inquisitio"
(Latin: search or inquiry)
Then a white dot emerged at the center, then the white dot moved and traced over the red hexagram star burning the hand of the man he quickly erased the star with his left hand. He then grabbed onto his right wrist using his left hand and knelt over the carpeted floor. Then a newborn black mamba snake slithered from his left hand to his right, slowly covering it with its body, then its head emerged from his middle finger and rested on his palm. It stayed for 5 seconds before it unwrapped itself and fell on the floor. The man grabbed the snake with his right hand and ate its head then the snake turned to dust. A hiss echoed around the man. Then an familiar errotic voice of a woman spoke
"Amor meus… quid mentem tuam turbatam vexat?"
(Latin: My love… what bothers thy troubled mind?)
A feminine arms embraced the man, and the man gently placed his left hand over her arm and He kissed it.
"Amor meus… amor tuus est quem diu desideravi."
(Latin: My love… It is your love that I've been craving of)
The woman chuckled over his reply, then she hovered in front of him. Her green eyes glistened by the fire light as she looked over her love. The man embraced and pulled her to his chest, he then held her tight and fire emerged from his hands burning her. The woman kissed his forehead and crumbled to dust. Laughter and hiss echoed around him.
"Desine uxorem meam imitari! Imperium tibi dedi! Oro te ut… uxorem meam et puerum mihi adduc…." (Latin: Stop impersonating my wife! I have given you an empire! I beg you… bring my wife and boy to me…")
He conjured fire over his right hand and it spewed over the bookshelves and the carpet. Fire then engulfed the entire study room. Emerged from the fire a figure of a boy standing in the middle of the fire. It mimics the dead five year old boy of Emperor Augustus Caesar Karnorath. His hexagram pupiled eyes glared at him and spoke.
"Puer draconis stirpis adhuc vivit. Si uxorem et filium videre vis, eum interfice." (Latin: The boy of Dragon descent still lives. If you want to see your wife and boy, kill Him.)
"Quid!? Unumqoudque ex illis nebulonibus venatus sum!"
(Latin: What!? I have hunted every last one of those bastards!)
As Augustus blinked the boy was already inches away from his face. Julius stumbled back horrified by the burnt face of his son. The entire conjunctiva is black it's pupil still with the red hexagram star. Its face and its entire body is pitch black. It opened its mouth and newborn black mamba snake fell to the floor as it spoke
"The DRAGON BITCH is still alive. I am now speaking in your tongue even though it…. Revolts me… do you understand?"
Augustus composed himself and knelt properly facing the Mordren lord before him. He bowed in submission and spoke
"Lord Typhon, I understand fully what you meant. But as long as you do what we agree on the contract…"
"Yes.. Yes.. puny mortal. This thing called love… brings back memories" Typhon laughed hysterically, then he straightened his face and glared back at Emperor Julius.
"Do what I asked and I'll bring back their souls from the gates of hell."
Typhon then disappeared along with Emperor Augustus' son's body. He saw as it turned to dust and was carried by the wind, Emperor Augustus reached for the dust and closed his fists and placed it on his left chest, tears flowed down from his eyes as he wept in pain. He smashed using his left hand at the wall of bookshelves. Books, splinters of wood and stone flew from the impact. Behind it the walls cracked all in different directions from the bloodied left fist of Emperor Augustus. He wiped his tears using his right arm, rose, and but through the fire using his right arm and the fire engulfed the study room dissipated. But the entire room wasn't scorched nor the books from the shelves and the carpet on the floor wasn't burned. It reverted as it was before the fire.
He went straight towards two tall wooden doors and pushed outwards. Which opened to a hallway filled with decorations of conquest. The paintings to the left are the Emperors of the Karnorath dynasty. The walls are painted with red, with decoration of a golden rose that has its first bloom. To the right are tall glass arched windows overlooking the imperial city of Roma. The hallway's roof arched with paintings of the history of the Empire. The painting above the doorway are the seven gods giving divine directive to the first Emperor of Karnorath; Emperor Julius Caesar Karnorath. The two praetorian guards stood stall as still as the marble pillars flanking him. An elite imperial bodyguard, handpicked from the finest and most loyal soldiers of the empire. Their armor lorica segmentata are interlocking iron bands that covered the chest and shoulders, gleaming under the sunlight that swept across the glass windows of the hallway. Each plate was meticulously maintained and polished. At their backs a crimson cloak that was fastened by a golden clasp shaped like the philippine eagle with its wings wide across. On their heads rested a crested helmet topped with a purple plume of horse hair. On their faces are black iron masks of a weeping man that cover their faces to conceal their identity. Their arms bore sturdy vambraces, etched with laurel motifs or thunderbolts, symbols of divine favor from the gods. At their waists hung a short sword named gladius, sheathed in a scabbard of dark leather and a dagger sat beside it. On their shins are greaves strapped tight with leather bindings, and their sandals were reinforced with iron studs, whenever the move each step resonating like a beat of a war drum. The emperor left the room and the praetorian guards followed.
"Find General Marcus Aurelius and tell him the dragon still lives."
A praetorian guard gave the imperial salute, fully extended his arm, palms down and with fingers together. He stomped his right foot at the same time yelling
"Long Live the Emperor. Long Live the Empire!"
The guard retracted his arm and lowered his three fingers that only his index and thumb fingers extended. He then moved his hand clockwise and a portal emerged leading to a front line camp. The guard then stepped in and the portal disappeared with it.
After the fall of the Valerian dynasty to the Karnorathian invaders of the Acedonian Isles fifty-nine years ago. The Karnorathian Empire came to dominate nearly half of the continent of Uropa. Its borders reach the vulnerable alliance of three kingdoms and four city-states, the United Aermanic Confederation. Where the Kingdom of Velanthir is a part of. To the south-west, the empire borders with the allied five kingdoms of Hispania - with whom the empire is currently at war. Across the mediterranean sea, the Karnorathians are also engaged in a conflict against the invading Punicians from the south.
Author note: Aermanic and Hispania are what the Karnorathians call their future provinces.
The imperial guard emerged in front of the command headquarters tent of General Marcus Aurelius, the commanding general of the Hispania War Theater. General Marcus, clad in imperial gold armor and a crested helmet topped with black plume which rested on the table. Before him stood a large square map table of Hispania, marked with red flags representing the imperials and blue for the Allied kingdoms. Surrounding him were his five commanders, engaged in a heated argument over the proposed offensive on the frontlines. The imperial guard, fully armored with his face hidden behind a black iron mask shaped like a weeping man, entered the tent, gave the imperial salute, and cast a brief glance at the war map.
The Karnorathians had managed to cross the Pyrenees mountain range and were now in the countryside of the kingdom of Nava, one of the five Allied nations of Hispania. However, judging by the flag markers, they had only taken a small portion of land. Eight red flag markers were clustered at the center below the mountain rangers, with six more; three on each side positioned to prevent the Hispanics from flanking the main army. The praetorian guard shifted his gaze to the General, who was glaring at him with his head resting on his right fist. The general then raised his left hand to head level, signaling his commanding officers to stop their argument and stand at attention.
"Do you see anything unusual in the war map? Praetorian guard?" the general asked with a stern look.
The guard lowered his right hand, drew his sheathed gladius from his waist, and used it as a pointing stick to indicate the position of the enemy, a single blue flag at a coastal town of barcelona.
"You have a keen eye, praetorian guard."
The general stood, took his staff that rested on the table in front of him.
"Have you forgotten my trusted officers that our war map is far more advanced than our enemies, but can only function well with our Yugwa scouts in the vicinity?"
General Marcus pointed on that side of the map where a blue flag remained still at the coastal town of Barcelona.
"This flag hasn't moved for 20 minutes… which means?"
"Our scouts are either dead or his/her eyes have been removed." one of the commanding officer spoke
"Exactly… send one recon unit along with a member from the Clan of Yugwa, those with white eyes. Order them to position themselves nine miles from the town to give us a bird's view of their location."
One commanding officer gave an imperial salute along with a stomp shouting "Long live the Emperor. Long live the Empire" then turned about face and exited the command tent.
General Marcus sat on his chair, turned his gaze to the praetorian guard, raised his hand and gestured to his commanding officer to exit the tent. They followed the command, gave their imperial salute, chants and exited the tent.
"What service does our emperor require, praetorian?"
"Our imperial majesty wishes me to tell you the phrase. The dragon still lives"
General Marcus' eyes widened when he heard about the phrase and stood towering the praetorian guard.
"What did you just say guard?" he voice angered by what he just heard
"The dragon still lives"
The moment the guard repeated those words, General Marcus punched him in the stomach with such overwhelming force that it hurled the guard out of the tent, sending him flying nearly a hundred meters. The guard managed to land and skid across the ground until finally came to a stop. Dropping to one knee, he gasped for breath, his chest plate shattered from the impact exposing his scarred chest and abdomen with old battle wounds. He removed half of his mask exposing his lower face and spat onto the ground before replacing it back over his face. As he looked up, he noticed a shadow growing larger before him. When he raised his gaze, he saw General Marcus looming above, both hands gripping his famed black longsword, Diamante, poised to deliver a final blow. Quickly, the guard raised his sheathed sword, infusing the leather scabbard with magic to reinforce it, and managed to parry General Marcus's strike. Their eyes locked for a brief moment before the general leaped back and lowered his sword.
"My instincts are wrong, you are indeed a titanium rank, fitting for a praetorian guard, such famous elite soldiers lowered his guard and now in this current predicament. How can you protect our emperor from his enemies, praetorian guard? Are you just going to sulk there in kneeling in surrender or fight with honour?
The praetorian guard stood shakily, used his sheathed sword as a pole, boosted himself up and gave an imperial salute along with the imperial chant. He lowered his hands and spoke
"General Marcus Aurelius. There is no direct order from our emperor and I am forbidden to strike a citizen of the empire without valid reason. I am permitted by law to unsheathed my sword to only protect the emperor"
General Marcus lifted his blade and rested it on his shoulders and turned his head to the right where a medical corps with their medical equipment in hand waiting for orders to attend the wounded guard.
"You there, what are you waiting for? Do you want a fellow colleague to die before my face? Move your asses and attend to him!"
The medical corps rushed towards the guard who fell down on the arms of one of the medical units. Behind them General Marcus reminded them
"Do not remove their masks or you will stain their honour."
General Marcus turned and walked back towards his tent. In his mind are the words from the guard from the emperor
"The dragon still lives…" he muttered while scratching his chin as he entered his tent.
He raised his right hand and snapped his fingers. Immediately, a figure in a black cloak emerged behind him, kneeling.
"I had high hopes for you. Talos.." General Marcus said coldly
Talos remained on one knee, trembling under the oppressive aura radiating from his father.
"But you failed me… on just one… simple… task. Do you know what task that I requested?
Talos remained silent.
General Marcus, turned, slammed his fist into the battle map table, and in one swift motion, unsheathed his sword. He raised it with a clear intent to sever his son's head. But, stopped the moment the blade touched Talos' skin, drawing a thin line of blood.
"Care to explain… my son?"
Talos looked up to his father with burning resentment in his eyes, then lowered his gaze to the ground.
"I took the opportunity during the Karnorathians' assault on their stronghold to slip inside the castle and wreak havoc. But then… I came across a young woman with a wicker basket, she turned her head towards me. I blinked… and she was already inches away before me with her dragon-like claws tearing through the air. I barely escaped and managed to stab her left side before fleeing from her sight."
"Your report nine years ago was a lie?!" General Marcus snarled, stepping on Talos with such force that a small crater cracked beneath him.
General Marcus knelt while his right foot was still on the head of Talos. He moved his head and whispered in the ear of Talos.
"If you fail again. Your sisters will be great for entertaining me and my men."
Talos' eyes shot wide open with anger. He unsheathed his blade, ready to strike the neck of his father but only for General Marcus slammed his foot harder on his head, crushing any strength left in his arms.
"Don't ever think of doing that ELF! If it weren't for my kindness, how do you think; YOU and your four sisters would survive this harsh reality?"
General Marcus lifted his boot, then grabbed onto Talos by the hair, forcing him to look into his brown eyes.
"Kill the last fucking dragon or I'll change my mind."
With that, he hurled Talos out of the tent. Talos landed hard in a muddy puddle, slowly pushing himself up. He looked back at the tent with resentment. Raising his right hand to his chest, he extended his index and middle fingers and vanished on the spot.