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He leaned back, arms crossed, sharp eyes unfocused as strategies unfolded within his mind. House Obsidian—a powerful force, yes. But his father's reckless path would soon turn them into enemies. Drakon knew better than to think his father's pride wouldn't lead the empire straight into ruin.

Drakos was blinded by arrogance, ready to pick a fight the empire couldn't afford to lose something that would leave the empire in shambles and ultimately fall. But Drakon wouldn't let that happen. He couldn't. Even if it meant going against his father.

"Where's the young duke?" Drakon's voice cut through the silence, directed at the older woman.

"Still at his estate, Your Highness," she responded swiftly. "However, it might prove difficult to meet him as soon as planned. The Human Emperor has summoned him for an audience."

Drakon's eyes narrowed in disdain. Of course, the Human Emperor was rushing—desperate to exploit the rumors surrounding Alexandra, Lekiza and Pyris, eager to strengthen ties through whispers of scandal and business deals.

"What a fool," Drakon scoffed under his breath. He knew Pyris better than that even though they'd only met briefly where Drakon played the arrogant foolish prince to make the Young Duke think little of him. But that first encounter had been enough for Drakon to see through the young duke's carefully maintained mask. Pyris wasn't the type to be manipulated by rumors or political games—That same technique to use women to win him over made the Dragon Emperor loose his daughter to Pyris—if anything, this would sour relations with the Human Sovereign even more.

And if that happened...

"The Young Duke is going to need an empire," Drakon said darkly.

House Obsidian couldn't afford to face enemies from two or three empires at once—not even with all their power. And Pyris—if Drakon was right Pyris was going to secure one of the empires and let go of the other as keeping both would be nearly impossible given that all of them were trying to use his women in their plays and so he will choose the less evil.

That's where Drakon was going to step in — before Pyris took the decision to which empire he will keep. Drakon needed Pyris on his side, not second-guessing where his allegiances lay.

His father might drag the empire toward ruin, but Drakon wouldn't sit by and watch. Even if the odds of stopping the inevitable were slim, 5% was enough for him to act. Because for the good of the empire, he was ready to do anything—even if it meant betraying his own blood.

But given the current situation...

With the Dragon Emperor recklessly promising to go toe-to-toe with House Obsidian, Drakon knew the inevitable clash could be delayed—if the Obsidian heir saw enough reason to hesitate before shunning humanity entirely. And that slim hesitation was the gap Drakon needed to wedge himself into. A sliver of opportunity that could shift the fate of empires and make the heir choose Dragons over humans.

"Let's give the Young Duke an empire."

The words cut through the stillness like a blade.

"Prince!" The sharp woman's voice cracked through the silence, genuine shock flashing in her eyes. She was sharp as a reaper's scythe, and even she hadn't seen that coming.

Drakon didn't even flinch. Instead, he leaned back in his seat, expression cool and composed—dangerously calm.

"Relax," he drawled, his tone soaked in that casual arrogance that masked his true intentions. He wasn't offering something as foolish as blind loyalty. Heck, Drakon didn't have an empire to give—yet. He was still a crown prince, living under the suffocating shadow of his father's reign. But power? Influence? Potential? Those were currencies worth more than thrones which didn't promise loyalty.

And if Drakon understood anything about Pyris Obsidian, it was this:

A dragon like him wouldn't invest in a towering, ancient tree (throne/emperor)—something rooted in tradition, calcified by history. No. Pyris would water a blooming seed, nurture it, and claim loyalty from the very roots as it grew into something unstoppable.

That was the difference between Drakon and his father and the human emperor. While the emperors clawed for dominance with outdated pride, Drakon saw the future in the seeds of change—more or less him being that seed. And neither the human emperor or dragon emperor would let themselves be under the Obsidian heir.

But Pyris wouldn't want an equal. He wouldn't seek a partnership with an empire already bloated and stagnant from centuries of power plays. He'd want something new. Something his. A force that could grow alongside him—and Drakon could be that force.

All Drakon had to do was get to him first—before the Human Emperor's meeting happened. Offer Pyris what the old, decaying powers couldn't.

The future dragon empire on a silver platter.

Of course, Drakon didn't plan on becoming anyone's servant. He wasn't offering subservience—he was offering vision. He needed someone who saw the empire's future the same way he did: ruthless, strategic, inevitable. And Pyris?

Pyris was exactly that someone.

Once Drakon secured the young Obsidian's favor, then the real game could begin. Only with Pyris's support would Drakon have the foundation he needed to dismantle his father's crumbling legacy and rebuild the empire under his own rule.

And this time, it wouldn't just be survival—it would be domination.

"Prepare everything," Drakon ordered, eyes sharp with intent. "We need to intercept the Duke before the Human Emperor gets the chance." The car rolled on, but in Drakon's mind, the wheels of revolution were already turning.

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The limo's wheels hummed against the polished stone road, carrying Crown Prince Drakon not to the grandiose halls of royalty nor the gaudy displays of imperial wealth, but somewhere far more exclusive.

____

The estate wasn't what one might expect—it wasn't gilded with garish luxury or draped in the heavy arrogance of old money. No, this was different. A fortress of secrecy carved into elegance itself.

Hidden behind towering obsidian walls, the estate was a masterpiece of subtlety and power—where the elite of every empire gathered beyond the reach of prying eyes. The architecture was modern and minimalistic, with razor-sharp angles and shadowed courtyards that whispered wealth without screaming it.

The air itself seemed heavier, thick with the scent of rare incense and political tension.

Rank 17 guards, clad in midnight-black armor that shimmered with faint runes of protection, stood watch at the automated gates. Their mere presence wasn't just for security—it was a warning. Only the truly powerful crossed these gates, and those who didn't belong never left.

As the limo rolled to a stop, Drakon didn't hesitate. He exited swiftly, heading toward a hidden garage where a sleek, obsidian-black supercar awaited him. No unnecessary words, no wasted time. In the shadows of that estate, he traded royal comfort for speed and discretion.

Moments later, the powerful hum of the engine echoed into the night as the supercar tore down the empty roads. The cool evening wind rushed through the slightly open window, carrying the scent of rain-soaked earth and ambition.

One hand gripped the wheel—steady, precise. The other rested against his lips, deep in thought. Every possible outcome raced through his mind like threads of fate being spun too fast to catch.

This alliance wasn't just necessary—it was inevitable. Pyris Obsidian wasn't someone to gamble with. Drakon had to secure his support, no matter the cost.