The Winged God

A dragon. A wyrmling, but still—a dragon.
 
I was not there when they fought it. This gnaws at me more than I expected.
 
Tycho brought back the skull. Held it like a trophy, like a thing heavier than bone. He spoke of fire, of standing against it, of surviving. I wonder if he sees what I see—that it was a child. A dangerous, fire-breathing one, but still.
 
Dmitri Valonis tried to play us like a bard’s lute. I did not trust him from the start. He smiles too much. The Rhennee do not need politicians; we need boats that do not sink. He wanted us to fix a bet for him. The others saw his nature soon enough. I was pleased. Not because they saw I was right, but because they saw.