Chereads / Reincarnation: i became a baby dragon!!!! / Chapter 45 - Echoes of Ambition

Chapter 45 - Echoes of Ambition

Beneath a crimson sky, the kingdom of Kaldrath loomed near mountainous hills, its royal castle casting long shadows over the land. Within the chambers of the royal council, a gathering of lords, advisors, and the king himself deliberated in solemn tones.

Seated at the head of the grand hall was King Valtheron, a man of noble bearing but shadowed ambition. The council murmured with unease, the air thick with tension. Beside him, Queen Ilyra, adorned in gleaming jewels that spoke of wealth and power, sat in silence. Her sharp eyes watched the council as they spoke, though her expression betrayed little.

"I say we must continue our search for ways to counter their spawn—Arman's offspring," Lord Kord declared, slamming his fist on the ornate table. His voice was thick with anger, his spittle flying as he spoke. "The divine might we felt during that Roar shook our lands. Left unchecked, this prince will grow stronger than we can imagine. Don't you all remember what their king did to that outsider world? He destroyed it single-handedly, without mercy or hesitation! Yes, Arman appears peaceful, reasonable even, compared to his kin—but do not forget he is still a dragon! And what of the rumors about the mythical old terror? You're playing with fire!"

The chamber echoed with murmurs, grim looks shared between the lords. Some gritted their teeth, their hands clenched into fists. Others avoided his gaze, unwilling to meet the truth of their own weakness.

"Lord Kord, calm yourself," replied Lord Aelric, his voice smooth as silk but carrying a chilling edge. The man's demeanor was composed, his words carefully chosen. "You let fear cloud your judgment. This is not a conquest but a calculated weakening. We have allies—factions across our kingdoms and even off-world—to aid us in this endeavor. We will not confront the dragons openly; we are not fools. The plan is simple: infiltrate their kingdom, retrieve the child, and retreat. With the prince as our ward, we will have a powerful bargaining chip. Perhaps we can even raise him to turn against them."

Kord's face twisted in disbelief, his outrage palpable. He rose to his feet, pointing a trembling finger at Aelric. "Sneak into their kingdom? Into their royal castle and steal the prince of the most dangerous creatures in existence? You are mad! A fool! You underestimate their strength and overestimate your cunning. Do you think the dragons won't notice? Their bond to one another runs deeper than blood. If the rumors are true, and they can sense their kin no matter the distance, you'll be walking to your doom!"

Some in the room shifted uncomfortably, glancing toward the king for guidance. Others nodded subtly, aligning themselves with Kord's anger.

"And you think they won't retaliate?" Kord continued, his voice rising with every word. "Have you forgotten the thousands of worlds they've conquered? The devastation they leave behind? Even one dragon could annihilate us if provoked. And what of the old terror—the Ancestor? If you steal his bloodline, you'll bring the wrath of legends upon us!"

Silence fell over the chamber, the weight of Kord's words settling like a leaden shroud. Finally, with a sneer, Kord cast a scornful glance at the council and the king himself. "I will have no part in this madness. Sacrifice your men if you wish, but I'll not follow you to ruin. Anyone who supports this plan is blind—or suicidal."

With that, Kord turned and strode toward the exit. A handful of others rose and followed, their expressions resolute.

King Valtheron remained seated, his fingers steepled under his chin as he watched their departure. A faint flicker of something passed over his face—regret, perhaps, or annoyance. He had ruled Kaldrath for over a decade, but he knew all too well the dynamics of his council. They did not revere him. He was king not by respect but by circumstance, inheriting the throne after his father's assassination. Once a spoiled, reckless prince, his past misdeeds had cost him dearly.

But he craved something greater. To be revered. To be sung of in the annals of history. If he could wound the dragons—if he could diminish their strength—his name would echo across the ages.

"Do not let Kord's fear infect your resolve," Valtheron said at last, his voice steady but cold. "He is blind to the opportunities before us. The dragons are powerful, yes—but they are not invincible. Even now, the factions within our kingdoms and beyond move in the shadows, searching for their own advantages. With the orcs of Ironfang and our off-world allies, we can weaken them without direct confrontation. And if we secure their prince... we gain leverage no dragon could ignore."

The queen shifted in her seat, her gaze lingering on her husband. For a brief moment, something like doubt crossed her features.

"You underestimate their bonds, my king," she said softly. "A royal child is no ordinary dragon. Even if we succeed in taking him, do you believe his heart can be severed from his kin?"

"The heart can be forged anew," Valtheron replied, his eyes alight with ambition. "Fear will bind them to our terms, and strength will shatter their will. The time of dragons ruling unchallenged must end. We will be the ones to usher in that change."

The queen said nothing more, her expression unreadable.

The council murmured in agreement, though unease lingered in the room like a shadow. Plans began to form, strategies devised in low tones, but beneath it all, doubt simmered.

In the mountains beyond the castle, the wind howled through the peaks, carrying with it a warning unspoken. For in the depths of the ocean kingdom, in the silent halls of its citadel, the Roar of the prince still echoed—a reminder that the dragons were watching, waiting, and ready to defend their own.