The Fire Dragons' presence was impossible to ignore as they stood in the center of the grand hall. Their envoys, draped in the intimidating and gleaming armor of their kind, carried with them the full weight of their threat. The air in the room grew tense, a palpable pressure that seemed to suffocate every guest present. The gathered royals and dignitaries stood in utter silence, waiting for someone to break the ice.
The envoy, the leader of the Fire Dragon delegation, a tall, muscular dragonkin with burning amber eyes, addressed the room with an authority that demanded respect. "The Fire Dragon King and the Eldest Prince have spoken. We have come to resolve the situation that has arisen due to the marriage between Princess Seraphine and the mortal consort, Solace."
A collective tension filled the room, as the significance of the Dragon King's words settled in.
"Solace," the envoy continued, his voice thunderous, "your presence in this marriage has not only insulted our honor but has placed the Fire Dragon Clan in a position of ridicule. We demand that the mortal be handed over. His head must be placed on a stake, and only then can we begin to clear the misunderstanding surrounding the marriage."
A cold silence followed his declaration. All eyes turned toward King Leonhart, the leader of Solara, to see how he would respond. The fire of anger and embarrassment was evident in his eyes, but the King's voice remained steady, his authority undeterred.
King Leonhart stood, his voice low and deliberate, cutting through the tension in the room. "I understand your demands, and I regret that things have come to this point. However," he said, his gaze hardening, "I must ask for seven days. Seven days to prepare and resolve this matter as best as I can."
The envoy's eyes narrowed, his expression a mixture of impatience and skepticism. "Seven days?" he repeated, his tone dripping with disbelief. "Do you think that the Fire Dragon Clan will allow you the time to decide how to handle this? Your insolence will not go unnoticed."
Leonhart did not flinch. "I am not asking for leniency," he replied coldly. "I am asking for a brief moment of time to arrange matters properly. In seven days, you will have Solace. Until then, I will honor the agreement and ensure that all is in order."
There was a long pause as the envoy weighed the King's words. The crowd held their collective breath, waiting for the decision to be made.
Finally, the envoy let out a sharp exhale, signaling his begrudging acceptance. "Very well," he said, his words dripping with reluctant acceptance. "You have seven days, King Leonhart. But understand this: if there is any attempt to delay or deceive us, the Fire Dragon Clan will not hesitate to declare war."
The room seemed to exhale in relief, but the atmosphere was still thick with the threat hanging in the air.
The Fire Dragons turned to leave, their massive forms slowly moving toward the exit, their departure leaving behind an eerie quiet. As they left, the gathering began to dissipate, the once lively conversations now subdued and whispered. It was clear that the balance of power in the human kingdoms had shifted with the arrival of the Fire Dragon Clan.
Solace remained quiet throughout the entire exchange, observing the political maneuvering with the sharpness of a predator watching prey. He didn't react outwardly, but his mind was already racing, calculating. He wasn't concerned about the Fire Dragon's demands. His mind was working, formulating his next steps, evaluating his options. Every word the envoys spoke, every shift in the room's tension, was processed and stored for future use.
His thoughts were interrupted by the quiet, almost imperceptible voice of the System in his mind.
[You knew this was coming. The Fire Dragon King's demands will only escalate unless you take matters into your own hands. Seven days isn't much time, Solace. You will need to act quickly.]
Solace's lips twitched under his mask. Seven days. He had only that long to figure out how to turn this situation in his favor. And he would. He had to.
The rest of the gathering passed in a blur. The tension in the air lingered, but the official business was concluded. The royals began to leave the hall, each one returning to their respective homes, the weight of the Fire Dragon's threat hanging heavily over them. The gathering was over, and the political games would begin anew.
Princess Elara of Ithmar approached Solace before he left, her expression softening with something like understanding. She handed him a small, delicate communication token, the faint glow of a magical sigil etched into its surface.
"You may need this," Elara said quietly. "Keep it close. Contact me if things get out of hand. I may be able to help... if you're in need."
Solace looked at the token in his hand, his eyes narrowing beneath his mask. There was more to Princess Elara than met the eye. He slipped the token into his pocket without a word, giving her a silent nod of acknowledgment.
The ride back to Solara was tense, as expected. Seraphine, who had been mostly silent since the Fire Dragons' declaration, sat across from Solace, her face stoic. Her eyes betrayed little emotion, though the weight of the situation clearly affected her. She had her own responsibilities to focus on, and Solace was just a part of the larger picture.
Solace, however, remained silent for the journey. His mind was focused solely on calculating his next moves. The Fire Dragons' demands were clear: they wanted his head, and they would stop at nothing to see it served to them. But Solace would not be their pawn. Seven days wasn't enough time to stop him—if he played his cards right, he would turn the tables in his favor.
Upon arriving back at the Solara Kingdom, the atmosphere was even more charged than before. Solace's presence had become a dangerous political liability, and King Leonhart, unable to defy the Fire Dragons, had made a decision to keep him under lock and key until the seven-day deadline was reached.
Solace was immediately arrested upon entering the kingdom. Guards surrounded him, their eyes wary, knowing full well what was at stake. He was swiftly escorted to the dungeons beneath the palace, his body restrained, but his mind sharp.
His time in the dungeon was solitary—no food, no water, no luxuries. The darkness of the cell didn't bother him. If anything, it gave him time to think, to plan. Seven days would pass quickly, but Solace knew that in that time, everything could change.
Princess Seraphine didn't visit him, not once. Her focus had shifted elsewhere, leaving Solace to stew in his cell. If she thought her own path was difficult, she had yet to see what he could endure. She wasn't concerned with him—she had her own destiny to shape. Her father, King Leonhart, focused on keeping up appearances and preparing for the inevitable confrontation with the Fire Dragon Clan.
Seven days passed in the darkness, with nothing but the sound of distant footsteps and the cold stone walls surrounding Solace. The gathering was a distant memory now. Only the looming presence of the Fire Dragons remained. They would arrive soon—Solace could feel it.