High King On Dragon

It wasn't fear that made his entire body tense as if it were about to break; he had fought in enough battles to recognize fear when it reared its head. No, what gripped his muscles in a vice was his profound sense of responsibility, weighing on him like a crushing slab, suffocating him. Mounting his faithful battle dragon that morning had not been a decision taken lightly; this creature was the ultimate symbol of his martial commitment. No matter how perilous, combat had never daunted him.

Now, once again, he would survey the battlefield from on high, taking note of the disposition of all the troops, both his own and the enemy's. He would then descend to confer with his generals on the final adjustments to the battle plan before taking to the skies once more, ready to confront any threat formidable enough to require the combined might of his dragon and himself.

On this frigid morning, through the shreds of fog and low clouds, the crucial significance of the battle was unmistakable. Yet, this familiar scenario only steeled his resolve and heightened his desire to swiftly eliminate all threats to his kingdom.

Planting himself firmly in his saddle, he signaled his loyal beast to dive toward a point on the front line. The time had come to win or die.