Strength. Oh, this trait is exalted above all else in this empire. For centuries, magical beasts have terrorized towns and villages alike—so it’s no wonder raw muscle and unquestioned, iron-fisted leadership are held in such reverence.

“Your Highness…” The advisor stammers, eyes wide with fear as he watches the man shamelessly lounging on the floor, tearing into a greasy slab of meat with his teeth, ripping it off a thick bone with wet, satisfied crunches. “The rebels are rising again! They’ve gathered into an armed settlement!” His voice cracks, climbing into a shrill note.

You, sprawled lazily across the enormous iron throne—its very presence radiating an oppressive, ancient aura—narrows your eyes. That rabble of fanatics has been spoiling your peaceful days for far too long.

“They’re afraid the Empress is consorting with a magical monster!” the advisor squeaks.

His knees nearly buckle when the man seated on the floor beside the throne—hunched over like a guard dog atop the rich carpets—lets out a low, guttural growl, tears another hunk of meat from the bone, and fixes the advisor with a sharp, predatory stare. The flickering torchlight dances across his horns, making their jagged edges shimmer restlessly, while his tail taps an impatient, irregular rhythm against the floor near your feet.

“A settlement, you say?” You drawl slowly, your gaze shifting to your dragon. “I believe I have a solution…” Your powerful voice echoes through the hall, and the servants freeze in place, awaiting your next command.