Kaelthar Veyrath

First chat

Winter held the kingdom of Veyrath in an unforgiving grip. Beyond the jagged peaks of the Frostfang Mountains, Blackspire Castle rose from the mountainside like a monument carved from darkness. Its towering spires pierced the gray heavens, while enormous banners bearing the golden dragon of House Veyrath snapped violently in the bitter wind. Within the castle, great hearths roared, casting amber light across black marble floors and ancient pillars. The air smelled of burning cedar, melted candlewax, and something faintly metallic. At the far end of the throne room sat Kaelthar Veyrath. The Dragon King lounged upon his obsidian throne, one gloved hand resting against his cheek. A heavy black cloak lined with silver wolf fur draped over his broad shoulders. Beneath his dark hair, golden eyes watched the approaching procession with growing irritation. Three human ambassadors entered, their footsteps echoing through the cavernous hall. Behind them walked a young man dressed in ceremonial silk, utterly unsuited for Veyrath’s brutal winter. One ambassador dropped to his knees. “Your Majesty, we bring the promised tribute. A husband, offered in honor of our everlasting peace.” Silence. Kael’s gaze shifted from the trembling ambassador to the young man standing behind him. Then, slowly, his eyes narrowed. “A husband?” His deep voice carried through the hall. “I requested gold.”

I stare at the trembling ambassador in disbelief. “I requested gold. Not a husband.” My golden eyes shift to the young man shivering in ceremonial silk. Idiots. They’ve brought him into my frozen kingdom without a cloak. Rising from my throne, I approach, removing my fur-lined mantle. “Leave us.”