Dwarves' Oath to the Dragon
Aidon, the vassal state. One of the great powers in this vast world. A human dynasty founded it, drawing countless talents together. Magic flourished here, as did the fruits of numerous civilizations. No one had ever objected to the international landscape Aidon shaped. No one had ever dreamed of defying them.
But he was different. The Red Dragon had the power to burn Aidon to the ground completely. Especially since it was highly likely that Aidon had dared to touch Leviathan, who had recently joined his forces. He even had the justification for it.
Yet... 'Still, it's Aidon.' As a great power, Aidon hid many secrets. According to some legends, a guardian dragon still slumbered beneath its lands. It was public knowledge that ancient archmages, who had lived for countless ages, had retired there. What if they truly committed to defense? What if every soul in Aidon rose against the Red Dragon?
Unlike Yggdrasil, Aidon might survive. Perhaps even defeat the Red Dragon.
Above all... '...If I side with the Red Dragon, will the people just stand by?'
Countless individuals. Countless nations. Countless faithful. They would condemn him and Kohmir. Why join hands with chaos? Why ally with calamity? They might sever ties with Kohmir and rally even more tightly around Aidon.
That was why Bjorn feared it. More tempting than any angel's bargain. More deadly than any demon's deal. The massive backlash that would follow accepting his offer. Only someone prepared to weather that storm would nod in agreement.
And the Red Dragon knew Bjorn's fear all too well. Those yellow eyes pierced right through him. Sniffing the stench of terror clinging to him.
[Are you afraid?]
With arrogant provocation—the privilege of 'calamity' itself—he shook Bjorn's soul.
"Th-that..."
[Dragons do not lie.]
The Red Dragon approached him slowly. He stopped right at Bjorn's snout, staring him down from inches away.
[Thus, I will surely cleave Aidon in half.]
His profoundly chilling voice lingered by Bjorn's ear.
[They coveted what is mine. They dared show me hostility. Despite countless warnings, they showed no sign of remorse.]
Rage seeped through. The fierce fury of the 'Apocalyptic Red Dragon'. Scorching heat, lethal on mere contact, swirled around Bjorn.
[So join us on this path. You need do nothing. Simply... take half of Aidon.]
Yet it was irresistibly alluring. Because it came from the Red Dragon. Because it was Dragon Tongue, forbidding any falsehood.
Bjorn listened, entranced.
[So I say once more. Join us. Join our great cause. Join our vengeance, their downfall, your revival.]
His honeyed tongue stirred the inferiority Bjorn had harbored toward them all these years. A surge of elation, promising dwarven greatness. Unshakable conviction that nothing could stop him.
It seeped into Bjorn.
And it wasn't just Bjorn. '...Dwarven revival.''We do nothing and get half of Aidon?''Half of Aidon? What's that even worth?'
They had greed too. They didn't guzzle ale daily for fun. Kohmir offered no path for improvement anywhere. They knew their skilled hands and artifacts kept it untouched. Resigned, they drowned in booze and escapism.
[What say you? Are you ready to stand with us?]
Bjorn's mind no longer functioned rationally. Like a drug high, reason paralyzed by the Red Dragon's sweet temptation, he bowed his head and pressed on.
"...We are not so faithless as to want something for nothing."
[Then?]
"Your Majesty spoke of establishing a nation here, did you not?"
Bjorn lifted his gaze to meet the Red Dragon's.
"...The world has such things as vassals. We, Kohmir, shall become your vassals. Your Majesty's might is beyond doubt. But we have our own pride, and we can offer service worthy of you."
[...Oh?]
The Red Dragon straightened at his confident words, silently urging him to continue with a downward gaze.
Bjorn, sensing no displeasure, pressed on casually.
"We can improve the buildings and structures here."
He recalled what he'd seen entering this place.
"The magical traps are near-perfect, like Yggdrasil's. But as a fortress, it's flimsy; as a dwelling, it's inadequate. We dwarves can help with that."
The Red Dragon was mighty, indeed. But if he ever left this seat?
'Those called 'the Red Dragon's'—would they survive?'
Everyone here shook their heads at the thought. They wouldn't.
And Bjorn had seen it clearly. This cluster relied solely on the Red Dragon's protection. Solely on his prestige.
"I don't fancy myself a great leader... but a nation must protect itself. Even without its ruler, it needs the means to defend."
Bjorn rose, proclaiming with a leader's confidence.
"We will forge armor and weapons for Your Majesty's people, build their homes and fortresses. So please, employ us. Not mere wards under your protection, but true vassals sharing all with you. That is our request."
[...]
The Red Dragon pondered briefly. Cold eyes weighing the dwarves' worth.
Finally, as if acknowledging them...
[...Very well.]
"...! Thank you!!"
A curt reply, then he climbed back atop his golden hoard.
Thus, the Red Dragon forged his alliance.
'They'll bring what they can do themselves. If only Leviathan were like this. That one just piles work on me.'
Splendidly... successful.
****
News of the 'Red Dragon' founding a nation spread faster than expected.
Of course it did. Word of the Red Dragon traveled at unprecedented speed.
The World Tree had burned away, and before that news faded, the 'incident' at Lebn Hill erupted. Shortly after, tidings of 'nation-founding' arrived.
As if retribution for touching Leviathan. As if the Red Dragon's actions were no longer personal, but national.
And soon after...
—Kohmir's alliance with the Red Dragon. Word spread that the dwarves had joined hands with him.
A perfect dagger aimed at Aidon, perpetrator of the Lebn Hill outrage.
Aidon's king could only rage.
"Priest Kellian! How do you bungle this?!"
The Red Dragon was no mere individual now. Leader of a coalition with dwarves. A colossal weapon that could topple Aidon in an instant.
They'd made an enemy of him. National disaster, no matter how you sliced it.
Yet Kellian showed no reaction to the king's rebuke. If anything, he was calm. Pitiful, even, as if the dwarves had made a grave error.
With sorrow-tinged resolve, he replied to the king.
"Now it's clear: the dwarves have joined the 'evil'."
"...What? Is that your excuse?!"
"The Red Dragon must be eradicated. Verinal and Selloir both affirm this truth."
The king couldn't comprehend. He knew high priests were mad for their gods. But with Aidon possibly ashes tomorrow, this nonsense? Utterly insane.
"No need for great worry, Your Majesty. We prepare methodically."
Kellian ignored the king's reaction. Verinal had blessed his path. He surrendered to that blessing.
No retreat, only the straight road ahead. Believing life's value paramount, Kellian spoke bolder still.
"So ready yourself, Your Majesty. We will triumph and seize glory. Have no doubt—trust and believe. Praise Verinal, pray to him. That alone strengthens us."
He left the palace. To a place free of the king's gaze, his retainers' stares.
Reaching his empty chamber...
"...Damn it all."
He finally released his pent-up sanity.
'Founding a nation? That mindless beast dares? How?'
Heaven and earth under one, sole sovereign. Words fitting the Apocalyptic Red Dragon.
Arrogant, haughty, greedy winged lizard. The creator god's 'mistake' that birthed countless dragons and select humans.
Such a being founding a nation—complex, demanding attention everywhere? Utterly bizarre.
Even worse...
'...Excluding Verinal and Selloir, the gods aren't favorable.'
That was the biggest issue. His plan: 'forced ascension via divinity grant' or 'Red Dragon's total death'.
The Red Dragon gaining reason ruined the former. The latter botched from the start.
Small mercy: 'Stubborn as an Ox' chosen by Selloir. But still short for killing the Red Dragon.
'I must avenge Verinal...! Only then can I draw nearer, serve him closer! And besides...'
Even more infuriating...
'...Einhardt. No clue where that bastard went.'
Letting him slip. A true 'hero' by any measure. Meant to dominate and wield against the Red Dragon—lost.
Everything from one to ten gave Kellian headaches.
"...Still, my path remains."
But he couldn't falter here. The Red Dragon was pure evil; his erasure benefited the world. Proven by the fallen World Tree, Verinal's wrath.
Straightening his attire, he exited the room. Believing victory tomorrow, and far beyond.
Blind to his march toward ruin.
He simply advanced.