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Lord Terror attempts to sort things out in Hadrovar

As a reminder, the story may contain some mature elements, but as usual I'm aiming for a PG-13 baseline.

Icon art from the Fardon reference by  FeatheryFlukes

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Chapter 20 - Sedrak

Terry wore Yyrkoon's robe over a suit of body armour as he approached the mayor, Fardon looming behind him like a large, angry bus.

"I am Lord Terror," the dragon-man informed the panda. "Vanquisher of the tyrant Yyrkoon, and thus lord of all Arstrom." he paused to let that sink in. "It has been told to me that Hadrovar is seditiously pledging fealty to another lord, and this displeases me immensely.
"There is a lot of dragon in me," Terry continued. "Enough that I find slaying my enemies... invigorating. So I must ask you now, Mayor Tomlinson... Are you, and the people you represent, my loyal subjects - or are you my enemies...?"

"He was going to eat us!" the panda wailed. "We had no choice!"

"And so, to stop him eating you, you fed him innocents?!" Lord Terror yelled. "I should remove your head where you stand!"

"We do not have the resources of the capital!" The mayor shrieked, backing away. "We have no way to repel a dragon with what we have! The dragons already destroyed the city hall and threatened to raze the entire settlement if we did not obey!"

"He has a point," Sir Fardon interrupted. "This place is far from the capital. And while the mayor's actions are reprehensible, it is likely he was trying to choose the least worst option. I would give him the benefit of the doubt, at least until we can investigate fully."

"I cannot argue with that," Terry admitted. "I have been preoccupied with matters in the South. I need a subordinate to maintain this realm for me... But that must wait. First, we must solve the problem at hand, and then focus on preventing a recurrence."

A roar came from above, and Fardon instinctively craned his neck upwards to look. Terry glanced briefly and then turned to watch, arms folded, as the massive grey dragon came in to land, a wicked blade strapped to his tail.

"I told you to stay away, brown one!" the grey dragon roared angrily, landing upon the city hall. "...Or do you hope to win my favour? I see you have brought food with you... Tinned food," he added, eyeing at the armoured soldiers greedily. "If these are your offering, I will let you stay... for now."

"Such meals are forbidden," Lord Terror stated authoritatively as the mayor scuttled away into the hall. "The Small Races are not for eating, and you are to desist at once if such is your aim."

The grey dragon laughed nastily. "I like it when my food talks back to me! I am Sedrak the Mighty, and you have no say over whom I eat. For you are small, much smaller than I! Weaker! Food for my belly!"

Terry sighed with frustration. "I do not like having to eliminate my rivals, but you are testing the limits of my mercy," he snapped. "If you are so desperate for nourishment, other sources can be arranged and I will do that if need be. But if you persist in murdering my subjects, you shall find your name on a death warrant. The Hunters will be delighted!"

"You think I eat the Small Ones out of need?" Sedrak laughed. "No... it is because they are delicacies, just waiting to be plucked! Unless you are a dragon yourself, you can never know the deliciousness of a mortal's brain!"

"The forbidden fruit," Terry hissed. "To do so is a capital crime under the Pax Draconica, and under my own laws. Leave this land if you would keep your head on the end of your neck."

"I shall eat you next," the dragon said, grinning widely and showing many pointed teeth. "I will enjoy your skull-meats, Small One!"

"You really haven't figured out who I am, have you...?" Terry replied in Dracolingua. The grey dragon froze.

"Now that I see you closely, you do look akin to the Scourge of the North," Sedrak replied in the same language. "Perhaps there is more to you than meets the eye. But if you claim this land, you will have to enforce that claim."

"This Scourge of the North, it's Maarvyn, isn't it?" Terry growled. "I shall deal with him later."

"Prove you are one of Us," the grey dragon sneered, "Then I shall take you to him. As my prisoner! Serve me, and your life will be spared!"

"Your terms are unacceptable," Terry replied calmly. "My nature is mine to conceal as I choose."

"Then I shall take you to him... In my belly! If you love the Small Races so much, you can die like one!"

Fardon knew enough Dracolingua to follow this, and launched himself into the air. The grey and brown dragons fought, flaming each other, scratching and clawing high over the city. But Fardon was not in his usual armour, and the grey dragon had a tail-blade.

Sir Fardon's mouth opened in a silent gasp of shock as the blow cleaved through his scales, through his spine. For a few short seconds his head tumbled and as he span, he saw a brief glimpse of his own decapitated body spiralling out of control like a downed aircraft, blood spewing from the death-wound of his neck. Then the sight dimmed from his eyes and the world faded away. His lifeless head smacked into the ground and bounced three times.

Lord Terror stared in absolute horror as the brown dragon's corpse slammed into the ground, severely damaging at least one house as Sedrak flew away to his lair, laughter echoing in the distance.

"Oh gods," he said. "Oh gods, oh gods. Oh, Fardon, I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."

"What are you orders, milord?" the captain asked him. "Are we to slay the grey one if he returns...? Aaah! The Evil One!"

The Eater of the World landed on a nearby building and fixed Terry with an impenetrable expression.

"Did you do this...?" they asked quietly.

"Do what...? Murder an envoy from a realm I'm trying to cozy up with...?" Terry snapped. "Kill one of the World-Eater's special friends...? What the fuck do you think?!" he sobbed.

"I had to ask," Fiskul sighed.

"He died, trying to protect me," Terry sniffled. "From a renegade dragon. Do you see now why I thought I might need a dragon-sized guillotine...?"

"I do," Fiskul said. "And I apologise for doubting you before."

"What am I going to do...?" Terry sighed, seeing his lofty dreams turn to ashes before his eyes. "I wanted an alliance with Lord Varl, and now his envoy is murdered! I'll be lucky if he doesn't try to have me killed!"

"Life is precious," Fiskul said. "And I do not want to see it wasted. When this event is recounted to Lord Varl, I will be sure to paint you in the best light, have no fear. You shall still have your alliance with Taria if I have any say in the matter.
"No... I would look to punishing the murderer if he returns, and ensuring your own authority remains undiminished. Meanwhile, remain in Hadrovar and have your men guard the body," Fiskul instructed him, fanning their wings for take-off. "I shall make the necessary arrangements. But I may be gone for some time."

* * *

"Fuck," Fardon said. He was flying in an empty sky, with no memory of how he got there, and no ground visible below him. He felt a moment of vertigo and panic in case he was actually flying upside-down, which could occasionally happen to dragons lost in thick fog. But he quelled it - there was no ground in the land of the dead, only the beautiful light of an eternal dawn. Or was it supposed to be twilight, the end of one's mortal life?

"Language," a voice admonished him. A beautiful golden dragon was flying beside him. "Granted, I've heard much worse, and besides, that's usually a good sign. 'Cool, I'm dead!' is not a phrase I like to hear."

"Last time, it brought a relief from the pain," Fardon said. "Though of course I had to face that again once I... It was you, wasn't it? You gave me another chance?"

"Well, I gave you a little push," the dragon god admitted. "But much of your recovery was your own work. I built your kind to heal well, even from critical injuries. Though you were certainly very lucky."

"Well, I guess my luck has finally run out," Fardon said sadly. "Now I must pay the dues for my sins... For all the death I have dealt. That I should lose my own head after giving so many the blade... It seems only fair. Poetic justice, I guess... Though I had hoped I would die in my armour, an honourable death for a dragon warrior.
"Still, at least I'm whole again, not sitting here clutching my head in my hands or something. That's one small mercy."

Fardon sighed and glanced at his creator. "Tell me, O Great One... Have I... failed you?" he asked, bowing his head unhappily.

"Yes, you have," the golden dragon said. "But that's okay. Every child has disappointed a parent at some stage. You're not doing too badly, all things considered.

"You are such flawed creatures," the dragon god continued. "And I love you for it."

"You... You do?"

"Of course. I too am flawed, and to see you fight against your shortcomings, to see you rise above your own limits, that is a wonderful thing to watch. And it gives me comfort that I too, may overcome my own imperfections."

Fardon said nothing for a few moments, digesting his creator's admission of weakness. The dragon god grinned to himself at his child's reaction.

"Not quite what you expected to hear from your god? From your own maker...? Dragons are proud and rarely speak of their own weaknesses," the golden dragon said. "I am no better... though I'd appreciate it if you didn't share these observations."

"Share them...?" Fardon's eyes narrowed and his expresion changed to one of cautious hope. "My Lord, earlier, you said I was 'not doing too badly'. Did you really mean the present tense? Not 'You didn't do too badly'?"

"Indeed," the dragon god said. "I am not here to claim you, but I thought I'd check up on you while you are indisposed. And now we must part... I am a busy god. I fear you will have to remain here for now, but do not despair. Things are in motion. I will see you again later, Fardon. Hopefully, much later. Keep in touch!"

The dragon god flew away, leaving Fardon to soar in the endless skies, filled with a mixture of wonder and trepidation.