A few days later, deep in the heart of the Ashlands, the air buzzes with heat, wine, and the tantalizing scent of perfume, sweat, and new ambition.
Inside one of Lucien's newly completed brothels, lavishly decorated with velvet curtains, plush cushions, and golden chandeliers shaped like erotic demon statues, Lucien lounges in a curved velvet chair, sipping from a goblet of dark, glimmering wine.
Alexel, his ever-stoic right-hand man, sits across from him, perusing a scroll, while Valgereth, the smugly handsome dragon-turned-businessman, leans lazily against the table, tapping the edge of a map with a long claw.
The table is cluttered with maps, charts, handwritten plans, itineraries, and most importantly, a towering stack of gold coins gleaming in the candlelight like a mountain of temptation.
"So," Lucien says, swirling his wine, "we cross the eastern borders, make our way through the valley, and reach the western edge of the Tribelands within three days?"
"If you don't run into roving bandits or warbeast herds," Alexel replies, adjusting his spectacles. "The terrain is rough. Lots of gorges and cliffs. No roads. Just trails and teeth."
Valgereth grins, baring a hint of fang. "My kind of vacation."
The door bursts open.
Ignara struts in with her usual commanding swagger, her tail swishing behind her and a clipboard in hand. Behind her trails a line of absurdly gorgeous dancers, each one more sculpted, glistening, and provocatively dressed than the last. They giggle and sway as they enter, flashing teeth, hips, and eager eyes.
"My Lord," Ignara purrs. "New recruits. Ready for auditions."
Lucien's eyes sparkle like a man finding water in the desert. He's halfway out of his chair, arms spread in a welcoming gesture, when Valgereth grabs him by the collar and yanks him back down.
"No," Val says firmly, "no harems until we finish the plan."
Lucien blinks. "You're not my mother."
"I'm your business partner, and your harem handling is costing me interest."
Alexel chuckles into his wine. "Sheer restraint. A novel trait."
Lucien groans dramatically and waves toward the dancers. "You're all hired. Grab a handful of gold each from the table as a starting bonus. Go nuts."
The dancers squeal in delight and immediately swarm the table, giggling and scooping coins like children at a candy shop.
Val's jaw drops. "That's our travel fund!"
Lucien shrugs. "Please. You've got more gold in your pockets than some kings have in their vaults. We'll survive."
Valgereth, already pulling out a notepad, mutters while counting. "One, two, three hundred gold?! Ignara! Add this to my investment contributions. I want every coin tracked."
Ignara squeaks and scribbles frantically on her glowing crystal tablet, her hand shaking. "Y-y-yes, sir!"
An hour passes in a haze of planning, debating travel routes, and calculating bribe fees for border crossings. Finally, the last scroll is sealed, the last goblet refilled, and Lucien leaps to his feet, arms wide.
"Alright, auditions time! Dancers, come forth! Let's make some terrible decisions together!"
But just as he's about to strut off into the back room with a gaggle of giggling half-naked companions, the doors slam open again.
Veyra and the twins, Vex and Vile, burst in, covered in soot and panting with urgency.
"Lord Lucidius!" Veyra shouts.
Lucien pauses mid-strut, visibly distressed at the interruption. "Can it wait? I'll be back in, let's say, an hour. Maybe six."
Vile bounces on her toes. "It's important! A rebel group took over one of your towns overnight!"
"They kicked out the guard," Vex adds, "and are preparing for a siege!"
Lucien sighs dramatically and turns to the half-naked dancers. He gazes longingly at their perfect forms, like a man being asked to abandon a full feast.
"I'm so sorry," he murmurs. "Duty calls."
They all groan in disappointment and slump back onto cushions like sulking cats.
From a corner, Serenith, coffee in hand and wings folded neatly behind her, chuckles into her mug. "Looks like you actually have to work for once."
Lucien points to Ignara. "Half-day with the dancers. Add it to my schedule! Make sure they warm up first."
Ignara salutes.
Val stands, stretching. "Let me take care of this."
Lucien turns back, that sly grin reappearing. "No. I haven't had a chance to really test my power out yet. I'll try diplomacy first, but if that fails, well, I'm curious what I can do to a fleshy body."
Valgereth barks a laugh. "Just leave a few for me to snack on."
Later that afternoon, Lucien and Veyra stand at the edge of the newly constructed town.
Lucien tilts his head and whistles sharply.
A beat of flame. A flash of ash. And then, Bugatti, his flaming, demonic ash-stallion, materializes from a puff of smoke, mane crackling with red fire. The beast paws at the earth with fury and snorts twin jets of flame.
Lucien leaps onto Bugatti in one fluid, dramatic motion.
Veyra follows on a sleeker but much less demonic-looking horse, adjusting her goggles and glancing at him sideways. "You ever consider going subtle for once?"
"Subtlety is for men with less impressive thighs," Lucien replies with a smirk.
Above them, Serenith soars high with her wings spread wide, golden and brilliant against the darkening sky.
Lucien glances up, ready to quip something flirty, then pauses.
A shadow falls over them.
A massive, terrifying, unnatural shadow.
Something ancient.
Something unmistakable.
Valgereth, in his full Elder Shadow Dragon form, glides silently above them, his wings blotting out the sun, his presence bending the light. Heat ripples off his scales in visible waves, and every slow beat of his wings sends a gust of hot wind rolling across the plain below, flattening ash into rippling dunes. He looks like a flying apocalypse dressed in obsidian scales.
Veyra whistles. "Subtlety really is dead."
Lucien just grins and calls up, "You coming?"
Val's voice echoes across the sky like thunder. "Don't worry. I'll catch up."
Lucien turns forward, raises his hand, and shouts, "Let's ride, baby!"
Bugatti's hooves throw up cinders with every stride, flames trailing from her mane like a comet's tail, and Lucien leans low over her neck, coat snapping in the wind. Lucien, Veyra, and the soaring Serenith race across the black plains of the Ashlands, toward rebellion, trouble, and just maybe the chance to unleash some chaos.
Back at the brothel, Ignara rubs her temples and adds "lost gold to horny dancers" to the financial ledger. Behind her, the hired performers sprawl luxuriously across silk cushions, sipping fruit wine and teasing each other with feathers.
Alexel looks up from a book titled Diplomacy and War Crimes: A Delicate Balance. He raises a brow. "Should we be worried?"
Ignara sighs. "If Lord Lucidius fails at diplomacy, we should be worried for them. They'll be crushed."
From across the room, one of the twins pops up from beneath the pile of dancers and shouts, "And if we're lucky, we'll be next!"
Laughter erupts, wine flows, and the Ashlands buzz with the unmistakable energy of new power on the rise.