Chapter 141: Royal Mission
Several days had passed since the final transformation. Mordred, like the few rare survivors of the ritual, had been placed in isolation in special quarters. The king, satisfied beyond his expectations, had generously rewarded the scientists responsible for this new generation of half-dragon assassins. Rewards in gold, rare jewels, power, and prestige had been granted to them under the approving gaze of the court.
The quarters that Mordred now occupied were very different from the cold, damp cells he had been accustomed to. Located in a special wing of the royal palace, these private lodgings were surprisingly spacious, almost luxurious. The walls were of dark marble, slightly veined with silver gray. Thick, soft carpets covered the cold floors, bringing a comfort that Mordred no longer believed he would ever taste again.
His bed was large, adorned with fine black silk sheets, with soft pillows stacked in a discreet luxury. A massive black wooden desk stood in one corner, accompanied by an elegant chair with simple lines. A bookshelf filled with ancient works stood against a wall, flanked by a small table on which rested cups and dishes regularly filled with fresh fruits, spiced meats, and refined drinks.
But Mordred appreciated none of these details, none of these comforts. His gaze, dark and unfathomable, was often lost in emptiness, contemplating a freedom he had definitively renounced the day the runic collar had been fixed to his neck.
A few days after moving in, a royal summons arrived. All the survivors of the ritual were gathered in an immense hall of red marble at the center of the palace. They stood in a row before a massive throne, sculpted from a dark rock inlaid with flaming rubies. The king, seated on his monumental seat, observed them with obvious satisfaction.
The sovereign, a majestic dragon with scarlet scales and an imperious expression, slowly rose. His voice resonated powerfully throughout the hall, amplified by subtle magic:
- "You have exceeded our expectations. You have become our ultimate instruments, our blades in the shadows, ready to execute our will. Today, your true mission begins."
The half-dragons, silent and motionless, remained perfectly attentive. Mordred was among them, his orange eyes fixed intensely on the king. His face revealed no emotion, but deep inside him, a cold fire burned without interruption.
The king continued:
- "Thanks to the dimensional portals we have carefully studied, you will soon be sent into the human world. Your task will be simple: infiltrate the ranks of men after exterminating the teams of hunters who will guard these portals. Stay discreet, invisible, and wait. We will give you your orders in due time."
The silence was total. Each assassin, perfectly trained, calmly assimilated this directive. But Mordred knew that this silence concealed as much terror as ambition.