They were insects before it, they were nothing but the meek. They could make no claims, stake no glory, for to do so, once more, would only be to invite the punishment that came along with it. Their Lord – as they now him, along with the name of General – seemed to move the same. He made no grand boasts, he spoke not of victory. He walked with the tentativeness of a man in danger. But still, with it, there was a peaceful smile on his face. Or else, a look of deep contemplation, when he found his quiet spots to watch them, or he perched in a corner of the city that none visited.
The dragon, alas, had found them regardless. They had turned a blind eye to it – or so they could be accused of doing – but it had spread its wings, and it had come to find them in the end. Now they saw what it had to offer. All those hundreds of banners, flapping in the wind, proudly bearing the serpent dangling from a tree, the sigil of House Emerson, and all those nobles that owed their loyalty to it.
