Our armies march upon Stroi like a wave. Any resistance we encounter is bathed in acid and torn apart like sheep. But we need to be swift, for the longer the battle drags on, the more losses both sides will suffer. We must make the Trow Lords surrender immediately.
When we arrive at the Black Timberhold, we see the city's last bastion of defense. A fortress made of black wood, harder and more resilient than steel. Giant trolls and other war beasts defend the castle alongside common troops.
So I address the masters commanding the beasts. They act more like slave overseers than commanders.
"Surrender, trows. Your gates have fallen. Your army will be annihilated if you continue to fight. Your city will be a pile of bodies and ashes. Do you intend to waste your lives and let your city burn to protect cowards hiding in an ebony tower?" I speak after landing in front of the fortress.
"I offer you... a new leadership." I say as Lady Ferin approaches, riding a trow war beast. "And a future for your city. The only thing holding you back from grasping that future are your chains. Chains that drag you only to death."
The trow masters ignore my generosity and test my patience. "We will never surrender to an overgrown kobold." One of them shouts. Like good overseers, they are loyal to the Trow Lords.
What a shame. Only Ralkor knows how I tried to spare this city.
But before the trow master could continue taunting me, a huge hand throws him from the wooden tower. One of the last giant troll warriors attacked his master, to the surprise of everyone, including me.
The creature looks at the shackle on its wrist and then looks at me.
"F-Feridom? For de childeren?" He asks, probably referring to the offspring of giant trolls that must be held captive somewhere in a stable or dungeon where they are bred.
"Freedom. For all of you." I promise the mutant beast.
Upon hearing my promise, the four remaining giant trolls begin to attack their masters. They are joined by the other trolls and lower-ranking trows.
The mutiny within the Black Timberhold spreads quickly. The city's last resistance begins to crumble without our army having to do anything.
A trow atop the fortress begins to blow a horn. A sound that the proud and arrogant people of Stroi had never heard before. A sound resembling a funeral dirge played at burials. Although they had never heard the sound before, all the trows who heard the horn, including the Trow Lords, understood what it meant.
The city had surrendered to the Dragonlord.
§ § § § § §
Stroi managed to resist our conquest for years. In two decades, we conquered the trow territories to the south of Darog and around Ithmel-Sho.
Now, finally, their city is ours.
The day after the battle ended, the Trow Lords of Stroi were dragged out of their hiding and thrown into the public square for judgment.
Some of them had ruled the city for centuries. I expected more resistance from them, but years and years in hiding had made them weak. With no servants to command, the Trow Lords posed no threat.
"People of Stroi!" Lady Ferin began to address a crowded square. The defeated army went door to door, summoning the city's residents to witness the transition of power.
"For years, the former lords kept this city and the whole Woods of Ul-Gak isolated from the rest of the continent. They kept our people captive. Anyone who dared to question them would be purged. My name is Ferin Arax. One of the last surviving members of House Arax. My ancestors defended Ul-Gak before this city even existed. They defended it from the terror of Gwenuin. When poison and acid rained from the skies, and the forests burned with purple flames, most of the trow tribes fled underground. But my ancestors resisted. With the help of your ancestors, we saved the Woods of Ul-Gak and founded this city."
So that's Lady Ferin's background? I never cared to know, but it seems interesting.
"When Gwenuin's Rage passed, we ruled Stroi, turning it into a prosperous city. But the ingratitude of some turned into greed. Greed turned into conspiracy. Finally, conspiracy turned into betrayal and most of my ancestors were killed.
Betrayed and humiliated, we fled Ul-Gak, our homeland. Some perished in the diaspora, while others were welcomed into a new home. But we never forgot where we came from.
Listen, people of Stroi. Trows and trolls. I know my ancestors were trow masters who enslaved trolls. But time in exile taught us much. I was born and raised in Ialdai, a free city where every goblinoid and beastkin can choose their own destiny. Ialdai is now part of the Akalani Empire. An empire that will set free all the peoples of the continent and bring an era of peace and prosperity. We have already liberated Ithmel-Sho and several other cities and villages in Ul-Gak. Now it's Stroi's turn.
The Emperor chose me to assume the role of my ancestors as regent of the Ul-Gak Forests once more. And I gladly accepted."
Lady Ferin speaks as she walks toward the former lords of the city, bound and about to be executed.
"And now, the Emperor will carry out the sentence on those who have committed so many crimes against our people. Your Majesty." Ferin says as she bows to me.
I turn to face the condemned. Some of them protest desperately, others begin to pray. But one of them, the oldest one, remains extremely calm. In fact, he wears a disturbing grin on his face.
"He he he. Stupid Lizard. Do you think this is the end for us? You have no idea who you have provoked. He he he."
I hesitate for a moment as a shiver runs down my spine. But then I remember who I am.
"They can come after me, or I will dig them out of their hole myself." I say as I breathe out a torrent of red flames.
All the former lords of the city start screaming and struggling, while the oldest of them continues to laugh ominously as his body crumbles to a pile of bones and ashes.
The crowd, especially the trolls, rejoices for the death of their former masters.
"Wonderful!" Lady Ferin, or rather, Queen Ferin, exclaims in relief. She must have waited for this moment her whole life.
I signal with the claws of my wing for Ferin to approach and kneel.
"Long Live Queen Ferin of the Woods of Ul-Gak." I say as I raise my wing over her, as if we were in an accolade ceremony.
After Ferin rises, she turns to the crowd of Stroi and proclaim to the crowd:
"Long Live the Akalani Empire!" And the crowd sings along with her.
Then she turns to me again and bows, pledging her loyalty.
"All Hail Akalani, Dragonlord of the Steppes of Darog, the Desert of Maz and the Woods of Ul-Gak. May your breath scorch the world in a searing blaze."
