The message of surrender had arrived, but Master Arkan showed no reaction.
He sat at the head of the war room, his long horns gleaming under the cold artificial lights. His silver gaze stared through the reinforced window at the broken skyline of Droscalin, now just another corpse beneath the wings of the Empire.
Around him, generals stood in silence, as if waiting for divine judgment.
Finally, one of them spoke, careful with his words:
> "Master… would it not be cleaner to kill them? Wipe out the last of the filth?"
Arkan didn't even turn his head.
> "These two countries are broken," he said, his voice calm but sharp as frost. "Who's going to build them? You?"
"We need labor. We need roads, walls, weapons. They'll be our tools. And like all tools—"
"We'll use them to death."
He leaned back.
> "So for now… try not to kill them. They'll die working soon enough."
The generals exchanged glances.
Then, almost on cue, they began offering praise.
> "Master's wisdom pierces like soulfire."
"Truly visionary… using trash to build thrones."
"None think as far as you, my lord."
Arkan didn't acknowledge the flattery.
Instead, he stood.
> "We're going down."
---
A short while later, Arkan descended from the warship flanked by his generals, Rin Solas, and the two silent elite guards assigned by Kaelion.
Their ship landed outside the largest remaining administrative structure in the capital—half-cracked, but still standing. The new "governor" of Droscalin, the cowardly noble Aelric Varane, stood at the front, flanked by several hundred kneeling citizens.
A general stepped forward, his voice thunderous:
> "Northern lizards! Kneel before Master Arkan! Kneel before Prince Rin Solas!"
And they did.
With clenched jaws, downcast eyes, and trembling hands… they knelt.
Some looked away, unable to bear the sight of the dragons who had shattered their world. Others stared with raw hatred,hidden behind submission.
Arkan didn't care.
He barely spared them a glance.
Instead, he turned to Aelric.
"Divide your people. Half will stay and rebuild Droscalin. The other half will go west to Kareth-Thorne. You'll raise the Solas banners over every ruin."
His words were law.
No objections were raised.
Then, he looked at his generals.
"Split the army. Half here, half there. No excuses. Maintain order. No uprisings. Keep the slaves alive."
The generals bowed.
Finally, Arkan turned to Rin.
His silver eyes narrowed slightly,not with affection, but calculation.
"You stay here, Prince. Monitor the rebuild. Prevent any… problems."
There was no room for negotiation.
Even Rin could feel the pressure of that single sentence. He bowed slightly, hiding the storm inside.
"Understood, Master."
Arkan didn't linger.
With a flap of his cloak, he rose into the sky, returning to the warship.
---
As the dust settled, the crowd slowly dispersed. Orders were barked, lines were formed, slaves were branded, and the wheels of occupation turned.
No one noticed that the twin children,the true heirs of the north,were nowhere in sight.
Lord Aelric had hidden them well.
Deep beneath the cracked palace, in a forgotten wine cellar turned shelter, the twins huddled close, watching the flickering light from above.
"We'll survive this," Aelric whispered to them.
"Someday, when the Solas rot from the inside… we'll rise again."
Above them, the Solas banner was already being hoisted.
White and black. A dragon swallowing a planet.
The mark of conquerors.
And Rin Solas, now left behind to rule over ashes, stood among them.
Watching. Waiting.
But colder than ever before.