Page 12 of The Wild Prince’s Favorite (The Dragon Empire Saga #3)
As soon as they were given orders to follow, the soldiers sprang into action.
The units spread out and split into groups with the efficiency of those who hadn’t just witnessed this once or twice.
The truth was, all of them knew that a dragon attack was on a different level than battling barbarians, and while some were scared, most were also excited for action.
The newest recruits were the only ones panicked, but they followed orders anyway.
If anything, some seemed excited to witness a dragon from up close, their eyes scouring the sky to spot the bolt of fire-colored scales.
There wasn’t much time for them to just wait and watch, though.
Soon enough, another growl was heard, and violent gusts of wind shook the camp.
Tievin had to protect his eyes with his fur-covered arm as the camp was suddenly caught in a massive winter storm.
“Keep moving!” a general shouted. “Don’t stop!”
Only Tievin stood still at the entrance of his tent; he was completely resolved with the fact that he wouldn’t be of any help anywhere, not when he could barely stand his ground at each blow of wind.
Unlike the soldiers, he didn’t wear any armor and wasn’t near heavy enough to be able to resist the snow from the mere flick of that beast’s gigantic wings gusting his way.
He crouched down, trying to hide behind his tent, while the soldiers kept running, shouting orders, desperate.
Soon enough, booming growls resonated loudly, and the ground began shaking.
It was no earthquake, but a mere echo of the fight going on in the training grounds at the same moment.
Tievin felt glad he hadn’t followed His Highness there; he would have been on the frontlines of a terrible display of violence, man against dragon.
He had seen it enough, and had no intention to witness it again if he could avoid it.
There would be nothing to see but rage, blood, dust, and more rage.
It was savage, ruthless, and merciless. It wasn’t a fight common mortals could even understand, and it wasn’t something a weakling like him wanted to even be near.
“Keep moving!” he shouted, noticing that everything had gone a bit too quiet around. “Don’t wait until it’s over!”
He knew it was tempting for the soldiers to watch and witness this incredible battle between two beings akin to gods, but they couldn’t afford it; the damages would only be greater if they waited to act.
Soon enough, the stomping of boots in the snow around him resumed.
He sighed, and proceeded to crawl, hiding behind his tent.
Although it happened quite often, he could never get used to those skirmishes between the Prince and his dragon.
In what state would he find the Prince this time?
The dragon wasn’t holding back because it was facing its owner.
.. No, it was more accurate to say it wasn’t holding back precisely because it was facing its owner.
There had been instances before of Imperial Dragons being hostile toward their owners, or hard to control, but this dragon was truly a rageful beast like no other.
Never had someone witnessed a dragon so determined to attack its owner, and not be afraid to kill them.
It didn’t make sense. A dragon’s life was tied to its owner.
If Kassein died, his dragon wouldn’t survive long.
A dragon that had lost its owner could survive a few years at best, from what they knew.
The ones who had survived the longest were the dragons who had been cared for by other members of the Imperial Family after their owner’s passing.
The previous Emperor’s golden dragon, Glahad, was probably the one who had survived the longest, as it had been taken care of by Empress Shareen herself.
Since she had no dragon of her own, Glahad had stayed by her side until her nephew, the current Emperor, had taken the golden throne.
As soon as Prince Kassian, now Emperor Kassian, had been crowned, Glahad died in the following days, leaving Kassian’s silver dragon, Kian, to replace him as the Imperial Palace’s dragon.
But no one would be insane enough to care for a dragon who had killed its owner.
.. So what was that mad dragon trying to accomplish?
Was it simply crazy, as some believed? The Wild Prince and his wild dragon.
What a problematic pair... Though he did believe it was cruel, Tievin didn’t blame the Emperor for sending them away.
“Sir, I think he’s gone!”
Indeed, the snowstorm had calmed down. There was still some snow flying around them, but it was nothing like the previous blows.
Tievin sighed and got back up, trying to wipe some snow off his shoulders and limbs.
He glanced around; the camp had been covered by a thick white coat, as if it had snowed three inches.
“Get started,” he said. “I want a full report of the damages, all the snow cleared as fast as possible. If anyone is injured, send them to the medical tent and give me a list of all those who check-in. Do not let any injury go unexamined. Make sure the inventory is done twice, and once everything is ready, call the generals to my tent for a review of the evacuation process.”
“Yes, sir. Where are you going...?”
“Well, someone has to verify if he’s alive,” groaned Tievin, who had started walking toward the training grounds.
He didn’t even bother to check any of the damages on his way there; he knew the soldiers were so used to this, the reports would be detailed enough.
Many had already begun repairing what could be, pulling the debris out of the way, swiping the snow off the top of the tents or out of the main alleys.
He crossed paths with a few new recruits who were carried to the medical tents; their curiosity had almost cost them their lives.
As he got closer to the training grounds, the damages caused by the fight became more apparent, and he couldn’t help but shiver.
How violent that brawl must have been to cause this much destruction in just a matter of seconds.
.. Many tents had collapsed or had been wrecked, and wooden pillars that had taken days to install and secure had been torn off their bases like twigs.
Even the wall that they had built over weeks with the sturdiest wood had an entire portion blown away.
This was problematic, making Tievin frown despite the soldiers already at work in that area.
This wall had been made to protect them against possible night raids from the barbarians.
With so much of that wall destroyed, it would take days before they could restore it to its previous state, days where they would be exposed.
.. Well, the men were going to be excited for night patrols.
The closer he got to the epicenter of the brawl, the more wreckage was around him.
No soldier had actually dared to get close to that area yet, and he couldn’t blame them.
There was absolutely nothing in this place that had been able to survive the battle.
All tents had been blown away, everything around looked like it had gone through the worst storm of the century.
The snow had receded from his knees to his ankles as everything had been swept away from the area.
The training grounds were nothing but a simple circle delimited by some wooden barricades, a few weapons arranged in rows, and some benches, but none of that was where it used to be.
In fact, it was hard to recognize the area at all.
It was as if they were deeper in the forest, where the Commander usually hunted.
Except that nothing living would have chosen to stay here.
.. Tievin began scouring the area with his eyes, looking for the Commander.
No matter how many times this happened, every single time, he couldn’t shake that feeling in his stomach, the nervousness that maybe, this time, the Prince might not have made it.
He finally located him just a couple of minutes later.
A bit relieved, he walked over, only to witness the extent of his injuries.
The dragon wasn’t pretending to harm its owner, that was for certain.
The snow all around the Prince was dyed crimson, in such a large range that most humans probably would have been dead, or close to it, if they’d lost that amount.
Not their Commander in Chief, though. The man wasn’t just alive, he was awake.
He was lying on his back, still breathing heavily, small wisps of mist escaping his lips.
“You’re alive,” Tievin simply said.
A faint growl answered him. Tievin glanced up.
No sign of the dragon anywhere. That beast had just come down to brawl with its master and flown away as soon as it was done.
.. He could never understand what was going on in the head of that crazy dragon.
He glanced down. From the sight of him, the Prince had endured a lot again.
It wasn’t just the snow; there was dried blood all over him.
Luckily, his body was already healing at the incredibly fast rate that was characteristic of Imperial Dragon owners.
Irony had it that it was the orange scales of his dragon that were appearing all over to patch the large wounds caused by that same dragon.
Tievin had seen enough of those to know the dragon had put its claws deep into its master’s chest, bit him over and over, and injured every single bit of skin it could, like an enraged beast. The depth of those injuries was perhaps the most incomprehensible part; there was no doubt that the dragon was genuinely going for the kill.
Every time, the Prince survived, but not by much.
It was a miracle he wasn’t missing any limbs yet.