Today's story is set a few months before the beginning of Right of Succession, so I have to warn you it contains some fairly big spoilers. If you haven't read the novel, and you don't want to be spoiled, you might want to finish the book first.
“We don’t need to control him. We need to unleash him.”
Brihanni’s expression made it difficult for him to keep a straight face. Her eyes were wide, and she opened her mouth to speak only to close it again a second later. Her brow furrowed, and she let out a frustrated squeak before finding her voice.
“What do you mean, unleash him?” she exclaimed. “He’s broken! You’re idiot commander...”
“Yes.” Ralic interrupted her before she worked herself into a froth over what happened to her former mistress once again. His head still ached from her last tirade, and he only had so much patience. “I know.”
“You want to unleash a crazed dragon on the world?” Her tone and the lift of one thin eyebrow made it obvious she expected him to tell her this was one huge joke any moment now, and he planned to kill the beast.
“Hardly the world,” he said with a shrug. He smirked as the color drained from Brihanni’s face. “One of their own turned against them. Can you imagine a more effective weapon?”
“One you can aim.”
The speed and flat tone with which the lady’s maid responded surprised a bark of laughter from Ralic.
“Fair point,” he said.
Ralic uncorked one of the decanters he kept in his shelves and poured a bit of brandy into a glass before offering it to Brihanni. She accepted it and gulped half the contents down before grimacing at the burn. He poured another for himself and sauntered back to his desk.
“I suppose we will need some measure of control over him,” Ralic said as he slid into his chair. He leaned back and watch the liquor slosh as he swirled it in the glass. “Just enough to aim him at Reiont.”
“I suppose you want to move the capitol here then?” Brihanni asked. “The broken rarely leave anything but ash, according to legend.”
Ralic shrugged. “Does it matter? How a land is governed matters more than where it’s governed from.”
“True.” Brihanni’s color had returned to normal and a rosy glow began darkening her complexion as she finished off the brandy he’d given her. She shuddered. “I can’t stand the thought of a telepath on the throne, and the boy’s too healthy to die before your father.”
The woman grew quiet. Draining the last dregs from her glass, Brihanni melted into her chair. Her eyes drooped with fatigue and the low alcohol tolerance he’d teased her about when they were teenagers.
“We’ll have to stop him at some point,” she said. “It won’t be easy. Not now, and really not once he’s killed.”
“That’s where the other weapons I’m having forged come in.” He sat his empty glass on the desk.
“You have weapons capable of destroying a dragon?”
“I’m going up against families allied with the creatures for centuries,” Ralic answered. He rolled his eyes and wondered if it was the booze in her system or if she really was that dense.
Each story in this series is 500 words or less and is prompted by a first line taken either from a random first line generator like this one or reader suggestions like "Don't Forget Me" and "Culture Shock." I much prefer working from reader suggestions over generators, but to do that, I need to hear from you.
If you have a prompt you'd like to see done, comment below, send it to my Tumblr asks, Tweet it at me, or leave a comment on any of the audio stories from this series. I'll screen shot it, write it, and post it for you.
In addition to working as a freelance writer, A. B. England is a novelist, all around geek, avid crafter, and a homeschooling mother of two.
She is an autistic creator with a love of mythology, fantasy, and all flavors of science fiction.
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