Emperor Casimir regarded the dragons flying above. He looked to Duke Orlock, his head councilor and Court Wizard.
"It would be easy," Orlock had said. "The dungeon core is an anomaly, a child. She knows nothing of war," claimed Orlock.
Casimir had dragon slayers, but against 10,000 dragons and Marferik the Dread, what good were they?
He had a choice to make.
He could attack, maybe even win, but at a cost so great songs would be sung about his stupidity for ages to come.
Or he could parley.
He could bow his head in acknowledgment to a toddler and her supporters.
A toddler, if the rumors were correct, that was actually a baby, in fact.
But there was a third option that even Casimir shuddered to consider.
An underhanded one that could potentially deliver him victory and save him from eternal shame. But his name would be dragged through the mud.
A shame of a different kind would mar his soul for all eternity.
Does he invoke the God from the other world?
Hades…
