Prologue

As night became day, he started to understand the truth. Azumia walked the streets of the arid realm as usual, his long wine red cape flowing behind the man as the public greeted him. Some bowing others gawking at his… ‘Figure’ so to speak. He, of course, was used to this kind of behavior. Being the only heir to the celestial throne and one of the last royal dragons left he was especially popular. And seeing how the women mustered their courage to ‘swoon’ over him he had to control himself. And by control he means not the temptation to talk with them, he means the temptation to audibly gag. The only royal pure of blood left was in fact the gayest man you will ever meet, well in this realm at least.

His parents, no, his mother had loved him since his birth. His father not so much. Kaliayanis Mafu Girijuma. The strongest royal dragon anyone had seen in trillions of years, not to mention both him and his wife were pure of blood. These factors combined made his rule easy on him. All of his ‘loyal’ subjects feared him more than death, most even pictured mister Girijuma as a reaper in disguise. This man loved the submission he felt from the crowds, that of which is only normal of an alpha dragon. But it wasn't just the people's submission he liked, it was the fear, respect, and total monarchy he felt when looking at them. The fear was not his own for the terror he instilled in these innocent people was enough to make the glorious Azarath question her own power.

Of course mister Girijuma also appealed to the women in public, the royal dragon stood at ten-foot-nine with a broad, muscular chest and sculpted figure. His dark skin and bright scarlet eyes only did wonders for his appearance. His face was ‘perfect’ to these women, he was perfect in the eyes of the public. This only made matters of the public worse as the tradition of men not wearing shirts in public made a societal comeback just a few million years earlier. The royal family had always abided by tradition whether it be socially acceptable or not, tradition was tradition after all. But with the uprising of his last son, Azumia Alari Girijuma, his society and tradition would take a massive swan dive into the palm of the young prince’s hands soon enough. For the ritual was sure to begin shortly, Kaliayanis grinned ear to ear and thought to himself “may the strongest survive.”.