The Dragon's Kiss

Chapter 131 - TWELVE: Whispers Of The Dragon Emperor

Before the third dawn fell from the time of his half brother's visit, Calix Anselm Orfeo's name was published far and wide as the new emperor of the Serin empire.

The day of rebellion came and went, everything playing out exactly as Calix, Thane and Ira had spent the last several years planning.

Subterra's new trick had worked like a charm, and, thanks to his inhuman strength and seeming magic fire abilities, whispers of the Dragon Emperor were rapidly spreading through the kingdom.

On that day, in a fiery rage, he had personally cut down every single one of his half siblings. Anyone with a drop of Anselm's blood perished under his ruthless sword.

By the time he reached the emperor's chambers, Anselm had already ended his own life with a deadly concoction of snake venom. Ever clinging to his lovely wife, the selfish man had sent his empress, Euridice, on her way to the afterlife ahead of him.

Both their bodies were still warm when Calix and his men burst through the door.

Seeing their leader surrender so shamelessly, all the opposing forces dropped their weapons soon after that. The fight was over before the pools of blood on the palace floor had a chance to dry, and Calix was crowned the new emperor with full support from the Morues and the stubborn Hoekens.

"Ugh," the new emperor winced as his teacher laid a damp rag against his back.

The only major injury he'd sustained during the coup was a large burn stretching from his left shoulder blade down to his hip.

It happened when a group of terrified soldiers toppled a lit brazier over him and his men. With such a juvenile attack, everyone was able to avoid the incident. Calix, however, feeling hundreds of eyes on him as council members, guards and servants ran for their lives, decided this was the perfect moment to put on a show.

The weight of the massive golden torch against his back was painful, but it was nothing compared to the burning embers that seared through his clothes and skin. Thankfully, as his body absorbed the flames, the ashes cooled quickly.

But not before scorching away most of the skin on his back.

"It seems I missed all the excitement," Itzae remarked, gently patting the cool rag into Calix's burn. "I didn't think being a day late would be too late."

"Everything was fine without you," Calix mumbled.

He would never say it, especially as a nineteen-year-old man, but he felt the slightest twinge of jealousy that Itzae's attention had been elsewhere at such an important moment--possibly the most important moment of his life.

"I can see that," Itzae retorted, causing Calix to grunt as he applied more pressure to the rag. "Save for this'¦ minor injury."

"It served its purpose very well," Calix replied matter-of-factly.

He didn't know exactly what it had looked like in the eyes of others when his body absorbed the flames from the brazier, but when he rose back to his feet, all the chaos stopped. Everyone was staring at him, frozen in fear.

A god, indeed, he thought smugly.

"You know, this nasty burn sort of looks like a dragon," Itzae pointed out, returning the rag to a nearby basin of water. "How fitting for the Dragon Emperor."

"Ha," Calix scoffed.

The two fell quiet as Itzae continued to treat his pupil's injury.

"... What did you do with her?" Itzae finally broke the silence, reaching for bandages. "With the empress?"

"She's dead," Calix answered coldly, groaning as Itzae helped him to a sitting position. "Her body was burned with all the others."

"I see," Itzae said quietly.

Both of them were aware of the fact that Calix had secretly held funeral rites for the late empress. Regardless of their relationship (or lack thereof), she was the woman who gave birth to him. Since his father had passed away without a chance to say goodbye, the young emperor figured it was the least bit of filial devotion he could give.

Aside from commitment to his duty, however, the Dragon Emperor felt nothing else for the people who brought him into the world. He was born an orphan. The deaths of his biological donors changed nothing about his situation.

"Your Majesty, there's actually something else we need to discuss," Itzae changed the subject.

"Aren't there many things we need to discuss?" Calix grinned. "After all, this is only the beginning."

With the bandaging complete, he flopped back against the bed.

It was a somewhat smaller and far less extravagant bed than the previous emperors had slept in. Even the very room he had chosen was like a servant's quarters compared to the grand royal suite.

Calix didn't care for things like the quality of his living quarters, however. Even if he had, the memory of Anselm and Euridice's limp bodies and soulless eyes was enough to keep him as far away from that wing of the palace as possible.

"It's about your kinsmen. Our kinsmen," Itzae explained. "There is something you must do."

"What must I do for those people?" Calix spat, his good mood suddenly soured. "I owe them as much as they've always so adamantly claimed they owe me: nothing."

"Still, they are angry," Itzae continued gingerly. "It's in your best interest not to make enemies out of them."

"They're angry I utilized the results of testing they ultimately decided on doing themselves?" Calix demanded.

"Regardless of whether you agree with them, you'd do well not to underestimate their strength," Itzae insisted, shaking his head at his pupil's obstinacy. "They must be appeased if you are to continue your mission."

Calix snorted. "Fine. What is it you suggest I do to appease them, then, Teacher?"

"I've already done as much as I can, but you need to undergo a ceremony," Itzae replied. "As a kind of symbolic binding of your hands."

"You've already done something about it?" Calix bolted up. "Is that where you've been when you should have been by my side?"

"It had to be done," Itzae said firmly.

With a sigh, Calix slumped back down onto his pillows.

"Alright, whatever you say. What does this 'ceremony' entail?" he questioned, clearly exasperated with the talk of Subterra.

Itzae glanced toward his pupil's scorched back.

"It involves a marking. And a promise."