The column of knights and priests rode in silence for some time after leaving the smoldering ruins of the barbarian village behind them. Smoke still trailed faintly in the distance, a grim reminder of what had just been done.
Father Alric finally broke the silence. "Do any of you… feel we have done wrong?" His voice was quiet, almost as if he feared the words themselves.
Sir Edric glanced at him but kept his eyes on the road. "We followed the king's orders. They refused our mercy. You saw how they mocked the priests, how they spat at the gods. If they will not submit, then they must be made an example."
Ser Aldwin, riding just behind them, exhaled slowly. "An example, yes. But I have seen war, priest. I know the look of people who fight because they have nothing else. Those men were not evil. They were desperate."
Roderic snorted. "Desperation doesn't make them any less dangerous. They would have put our heads on pikes if we'd turned our backs."
Alric's hands tightened around his reins. "And the women? The children? Were they dangerous too?"
The knights fell silent for a moment. The only sounds were the clinking of armor and the steady trot of horses.
"They will live," Edric said finally, his tone firm. "Better to be servants under the king than to die in squalor. We have given them a future."
Alric looked away, the words offering him no comfort. "A future built on ashes," he muttered under his breath.
Aldwin caught the priest's eye and spoke quietly, so the others would not hear. "Do not think too long on this, Father. If you do, you will never sleep again."
The road stretched on before them, winding deeper into the untamed frontier. Some knights laughed and shared boasts to push away the unease, but others rode silently, their thoughts heavy.
None of them said it aloud, but the truth lingered in their hearts—this was only the beginning.
The column moved at a steady pace, the clatter of hooves echoing against the empty hills. The smell of smoke from the burned village still lingered faintly in the air.
Sir Roderic broke the silence first. "Strange, isn't it? We ride for days in these wilds, yet that steel dragon never strays far. Always circling, always watching."
Father Alric's gaze shifted upward, though the sky was empty at that moment. "I've seen it four times now. No wings, no fire, no creature alive could fly so steadily. It does not belong to this world."
Ser Aldwin frowned. "I've lived long enough to know beasts follow patterns. They hunt, they defend, they flee. But this thing…" He shook his head. "It does neither. It observes."
Roderic gave a small, uneasy laugh. "Perhaps it waits until we are weak to strike."
Edric turned slightly in his saddle. "You mock, but I wonder the same. If it wanted us dead, it would have struck by now. I have never seen a creature so deliberate."
One of the younger knights, riding behind them, leaned forward. "What if it is not a dragon at all?"
The group looked at him, curious.
The young knight hesitated. "What if it is something greater than magic? Greater than the gods?"
Alric gripped his staff tightly. "Careful with your words. To speak of things beyond the gods is dangerous."
Aldwin's voice was grim. "Perhaps the boy is not wrong. If it is no beast, and no man controls it, then what is it? A sign of the gods' wrath… or of something far worse?"
Edric stared ahead, his expression unreadable. "Whatever it is, we cannot fight it. Steel against steel—it would crush us before we drew our swords. I only hope it is not our enemy."
For a while, no one spoke. The wind carried only the sound of hooves and distant crows circling the burnt village behind them.
But every man there—knight or priest—knew the same unspoken truth.
If the steel dragon was not a beast, then it was something far more dangerous.
---
The command center in Solaira City was silent except for the faint hum of machines. A drone patrol had returned from the frontier with hours of high‑altitude footage. On the main screen, grainy images showed knights in plate armor cutting down tribesmen with swords and spears.
Then came the still photographs—blood smeared on the dirt, bodies dragged through the mud, huts engulfed in flames. One picture showed a woman half‑naked, her face bloodied, dragged by her hair toward a group of soldiers.
No one spoke for several seconds.
General Marcus Delos broke the silence. "So this is what they call civilization." His voice was steady, but his jaw was tight.
Foreign Minister Elena Choi leaned forward, her face pale. "They're not fighting an army. That was a massacre. Women, children… look at them."
Defense Minister Takahiro Sato exhaled slowly, resting his hands on the table. "This confirms two things. One, these people have no concept of warfare beyond brutality. Two, they will bring that brutality to anyone weaker than them."
President Velez's eyes stayed on the images. His face betrayed nothing, but his hand curled into a fist on the table.
Captain Elias Verdan, who had been present during the patrol, spoke quietly. "Sir… this isn't even war to them. It's slaughter. We saw no order, no strategy. Just killing."
One of the intelligence officers in the room swallowed hard. "And the prisoners? What do we think will happen to them?"
No one answered.
Finally, President Velez stood. "Mark this village on the map. Track every movement of their columns from here on out. I want names, banners, everything that can identify who gave these orders."
General Delos nodded. "And after that?"
The president's voice was calm, but cold. "We do nothing. Not yet. We watch. We learn. We will not strike blindly."
Elena Choi turned to him, disbelief in her eyes. "Sir, we cannot just let this happen."
Velez looked at her. "We will not intervene until we know who they are, how they fight, and how many they can muster. We are not saviors. We are survivors."
The screen played on, showing the knights herding women and children in chains.
No one spoke again.
---
The meeting room was dimly lit, a single screen still displaying the last image of the burning village. President Velez sat at the head of the table while his ministers and top officers debated their next step.
Elena Choi spoke first, her voice calm but firm. "They spread their faith at the point of a sword. If they believe their gods demand conquest, then we can expect they will demand the same of us. If we refuse, they will call us heretics, and war will follow."
General Delos leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "And if we show strength too early, they might see us as demons. You saw how primitive they are. They won't understand planes, drones, or even radios. If they believe we are monsters, they will fight to the last man."
Sato folded his arms. "That village they destroyed? That's how they'll see us if we are weak. We need to prepare for the worst. Train for war. Build alliances with any other kingdoms that might exist. We cannot afford to be naïve."
One of the senior advisers, an older diplomat named Arturo Reyes, finally spoke. "But this could also be our chance. If we make the first move in diplomacy, we control the narrative. Trade—grain, metals, medicines. Show them we have wealth beyond imagining. A strong but peaceful hand."
Choi looked at him sharply. "And when they ask about our flying machines? About our weapons? You think they will simply see us as traders and not gods—or devils?"
"Maybe that's not for us to decide," Reyes replied. "If we condemn them for what they did, we risk war. If we trade, we risk arming them. If we stay silent, we risk watching more massacres happen."
Delos sighed. "If we do make contact, we must send diplomats who can present strength. Not soldiers, not drones hovering above them. They must see we are human, not monsters from the sky."
The room fell quiet until Velez finally spoke.
"We will prepare for all outcomes. Diplomacy will be our first step. But we will not show our weapons, not yet. If they see our planes before they see our faces, they will fear us. And fear leads to war."
He turned to Delos. "Keep reconnaissance flights at high altitude. No low passes, no close contact. No one fires a shot unless I give the order."
Choi leaned back in her chair, exhaling. "We'll walk a thin line. One mistake, and it all burns."
No one disagreed.
The footage of the massacre still lingered on the screen, a stark reminder of what kind of people they were about to meet.
---
The knights made camp along a shallow river that evening. As the men rested and the priests tended to the captives, Sir Edric Varlen sat by the fire, quill in hand. A parchment lay across a wooden board as he carefully composed his report.
> To His Majesty, King Aldred IV of Drakensport,
By your command, we have spread the light of the gods and the justice of the crown deeper into the western frontier. Several villages have submitted to the faith and to your rule. Their chieftains have pledged loyalty, offering tribute in grain, furs, and livestock.
Others resisted. Those who defied the priests were put to the sword. Their lands now lie empty, their women and children taken as captives to be made subjects of your reign.
The frontier is vast, but word of your might spreads quickly. Many barbarians now bow without struggle, fearing the fate of those who stood against us. With continued support, we will secure more villages, and their tribute will strengthen your coffers.
Your loyal servant,
Sir Edric Varlen
When the ink dried, Edric sealed the letter with hot wax and handed it to a courier. "Ride to Drachenhalm. Deliver this to the royal court without delay."
The courier saluted, mounted his horse, and disappeared into the night.
---
Weeks later, the letter reached Drachenhalm.
Inside the great hall, Chamberlain Hadrien read the report aloud. Nobles murmured with interest at the mention of tribute.
Lord Brenwick smirked. "Grain, furs, livestock—the frontier has always been wasted on savages. Now it finally serves the crown."
Lord Merrow leaned back in his chair. "The tribes will break one by one. Soon, the king's borders will stretch farther than ever before."
Lady Arlenne's voice cut through the murmurs. "And at what cost? Blood and fire may win land, but it breeds resentment. One day, the tribes will remember this."
King Aldred, however, only smiled faintly. "Let them remember. Fear is the strongest foundation of loyalty. The knights have done well. Send word to Sir Edric—he will have more men, more supplies. The frontier will be ours."
The court erupted in agreement, save for a few who exchanged uneasy glances.
Unseen by them all, Aurion intelligence analysts pinned the letter's courier route and the growing Drakensport frontier on a digital map, every new tribute and burned village marked in red.
The high command in Solaira City understood exactly what was happening.
And they knew that, sooner or later, Drakensport would discover they were being watched.
---
The forest canopy blotted out most of the sunlight, casting the ground below into a dim, green gloom. The air was heavy with the smell of moss and damp earth. Every step of the column was muffled by the thick carpet of fallen leaves.
Sir Edric rode at the front, eyes scanning the shadows between the trees. "This is deeper than we've ever gone," he muttered to Ser Aldwin, who rode beside him. "No scouts from Drakensport have mapped these lands. Anything could be waiting for us."
Aldwin grunted. "Then we keep our eyes open and our swords close. Barbarians know these woods better than we do."
Father Alric followed behind the knights, his robes brushing against ferns as he guided his horse carefully through the uneven path. "I do not like this place," he said quietly. "It feels… wrong. As if the forest itself watches us."
Sir Roderic laughed softly. "You priests always see omens in every shadow. It's just trees."
But even Roderic's voice lacked its usual confidence. The forest was unnervingly still—no birdsong, no rustle of animals.
A scout rode back from ahead, his horse breathing heavily. "Ser Edric," the man said, lowering his voice. "There's a village ahead. Small. Hidden deep in the woods. It doesn't look like any of the others we've seen—its homes are carved into the trees themselves. And they've seen us."
Edric straightened. "How many?"
"Two dozen, maybe more. They didn't flee. They're just… watching."
The knights exchanged uneasy glances.
Alric crossed himself. "Perhaps they are not barbarians at all. Perhaps they are something else entirely."
Edric drew a long breath, tightening his grip on the reins. "We approach slowly. No swords drawn. Let the priests speak first."
High above the canopy, invisible to all below, an Aurion drone hovered silently, its camera zoomed in on the strange village in the trees.
Inside a command center in Solaira City, the feed streamed live. Analysts leaned forward in their seats.
"This one's different," one of them muttered. "Mark it. Every detail. This could be important."
---
Before the contact
The knights followed the black, unnatural road deeper into the forest until it led them to a strange fortification unlike anything they had ever seen. Smooth gray walls, fences of metal, and towers of glass rose before them.
At the gate stood men in green uniforms, helmets shaped like no helm known to any knight. They carried strange black rods in their hands—no swords, no shields.
Lord Merrow's nephew, riding with the group as a noble observer, scoffed loudly. "So these are the so‑called masters of this strange road? Barbarians dressed like jesters, holding sticks instead of steel."
Several knights chuckled uneasily, though their eyes stayed on the men at the gate.
Sir Edric did not laugh. He studied the way the soldiers moved—their discipline, the way their strange weapons were held with purpose.
"They may look like barbarians," Edric said quietly, "but look at their stance. That is not the posture of peasants. These men are soldiers."
Father Alric's eyes wandered over the outpost. The straight lines, the strange walls, the metal towers—it was all too precise, too unnatural. "This place… it is beyond us. Whatever they are, they are not simple men."
One of the Aurion soldiers raised his hand and shouted something in a language none of the knights understood. The words were sharp, commanding, but without malice.
The knight sneered. "They bark like dogs. Do they expect us to kneel?"
Edric kept his eyes on the soldiers. "No. They're warning us."
The knights and priests shared the same thought but dared not speak it aloud.
These men… they are a mystery. And mysteries are dangerous.
Even the most arrogant knight could feel it now. Whatever these strangers were, they were far beyond the world the knights understood.