Royal Affairs
Chapter II

	The barracks yard would have been completely abandoned if it wasn't for the small handful of magi scattered around. These white plate-scale dragons were all meditating on the deep green grass. Their pristine, heavy scales shimmered softly with morning dew in the sunlight. Nikola, atop his tower that overlooked the barracks, stood with his arms crossed and glared down at the yard. “Worthless dragons,” he snarled to himself, “not one of them is worth a shred of mana!” The tiger turned away from the window and stomped to the large centered table. As he did, he huffed and threw his robe across the floor. The cobalt cloth of the kingdom landed in a heap against one of the many bookshelves that lined the walls.
	Nikola slammed his fists down on the table and roared. Lightning burst from his fists and skipped across the hardwood surface. Deep lines of soot were charred into the table and smoldered hotly like the tiger's rage. “Not a single one of them can grasp your power! Not one of them can even see my power!” He snarled and gripped the edge of the wooden disk. His claws sank deep into it and caused cracks to snap through the thick top. “I should be Captain of the Royal Guard! I should be the General,” his voice rose to a louder and louder roar with each statement, “I should be the fucking king!” With another enraged roar, Nikola lifted the table and flung it across the room. The wooden mass spun through the air and smashed hard into the wall. Shelves shattered, splinters shot through the air, and books tumbled to the ground upon impact. 
	He stood there with his shoulders tensed and back hunched. His breath came in deep heaves. Lightning cracked around his body and whipped at the walls. “Pathetic,” he said with a low snarl, “You deserve better than this! You deserve the rule....” The tiger walked across the room with a staggered pace. Each step seethed with hatred, with anger, with unadulterated rage. “That worthless blue drake knows nothing! He should --” Nikola stopped abruptly when he felt a crack beneath his paw. Slowly he looked down where he stepped and moved his paw to the side. At his hind paws sat a raven black book, ash smoldering around it. A dark leather strap warped around the center and locked it closed with a bone white buckle. “Of course,” he snarled with a wide, malevolent grin, “this will show them what you... what I really am capable of!” Slowly, the tiger lifted the obsidian book into the red sunlight that poured through his window. In the black glass shown the white outline, tinged red as if bloodied, of a broken and screaming skull.

	The sun was low in the sky. Early morning dew had given way to the cool, gently warmed, mid-morning air. Only one of the magi remained in the yard, though. All the others had either departed for duty or returned to the library when books and lightning began to fall from their captain's tower. This young plate-scale dragon , however, stayed and slowly picked up the books. Tenderly and one at a time, he cradled each book as he brushed the soot from their covers. “Poor things,” he whimpered softly to himself, “what would anger someone so.... To nearly ruin you poor, poor things.”
	The dragon stood silently as he solemnly inspected the books in the morning sun. Like the other magi, he had severed his wings and wrapped the remaining broken limbs tightly in long, silken strips of cloth. Unlike the others, however, his bandages were deep, bloody red instead of the common kingdom blue. Also unique about him was his red chest and stomach. In fact, all of his soft underbelly scales were deep red in stark contrast with the heavy white plates on his shoulders, back, shins, and other less fleshy surfaces. 
	His ruby eyes watered when he found a crack in a book's cover. With a sigh, he ran the back of his middle claw tenderly against the wound. As he did, the long thin cloth wrapped around his right severed wing began to unravel. The uniquely red thread was drawn towards the book and slowly stitched closed the crack. However, as the thread was woven in it faded away and blended with the cover. Once mended, the dragon whipped the tears from his eyes, gently added the book to the stack behind him, and reached for the next closest one on the ground. 
	Books spoke to the dragon. He spent days alone, deep within the halls of the library, studying long forgotten tomes. He cared for them, maintained them, and thanked them for every secret. There were things he learned during those sleepless nights that only he knew. Secrets about the spirit and how it was bound to the body that were his too keep, shared only with the ancient tomes of lore. The dragon was grateful for them, and to see his friends in such a brutalized state brought tears to his eyes. By the time he had finished his task, all the books stacked neatly at his side, it took everything the dragon had to not cry.
	“Pathetic....” The dragon gasped and looked up sharply. Standing in the tower's shadow was the source of the whispering voice. “Lazerous Brightwing... if you were half as loyal to the arcanim as you were to those simple books, Nikola would be more inclined to protect his position.” The figure wasn't very tall, only as tall as the dragon while kneeling, but his haunting attire made up for his less than imposing stature. Every inch of his body was wrapped tightly in bone white bandages, with only his left eye exposed to the darkness. Wrapped around his shoulders was a long ethereal scarf, a haunting shade of purple that bordered on the line of black, that concealed the anatomy of his muzzle. Chained to his hind paws were shimmering metallic plates that glowed the same color as his scarf. 
	“Wh... what do you want?” The white dragon, Lazerous, looked away from the figure and started to stack the books in his arms.
	The green glowing slotted eye shifted his gaze from the dragon, to the books, and back to Lazerous. “Not a thing, Brightwing. Not... a... thing.” He laughed slowly, a laugh half way between a hiss and a sigh. 
	“Then why are you out here?” The dragon had no taste for this figure. 
	“Because,” the shadow murmured, “I'm here to give you a warning.” He was suddenly bent forward in front of Lazerous. His head was tilted to one side and his one exposed eye wide with urgency. The position made the dragon fall back on his tail, but the shadow just closed the distance. “The royal family will need your abilities soon enough! Stay close, mister Brightwing, or fate just might call for all these precious books to burn with the land!”
	Lazerous pushed himself away from the shadow. His claws dug into the grass as he tried to lift himself franticly. “Y... you're mad!”
	The figure stood up straight again, his arms bound beneath the scarf, and locked his eye on one of the dropped books. The tome floated slowly into the air and rotated slowly at eye level. “Believe what you want, mage. The time will come... yes, it will come.” With that the shadows engulfed the figure and he faded away. The book fell to the ground at Lazerous's hind paws and hung open.
	The dragon shivered as he slowly staggered back to his feet, his breath short as he reached for the book and held it against his chest. “Th... that raving lunatic....”

	The dark stone walls were lit by orange smoldering torches. Their haunting glow spiraled along the edge and lined the path of the stairs that descended from the high ceiling of the tower. Below, the walls were cluttered with shelves full of different vials and plants. Tables were scattered around the large floor with various implements on them. Some were arrangements of beakers that boiled obscure techno colored chemicals. On others there were complicated, whirring machines of copper and steel that electricity jumped around on. In the middle of the floor was a large stone platform. Arranged along the edge of this platform were three tall towers, larger versions of the machines on the tables, topped with copper spheres. Occasionally, the room would be brought to life in electric blue light as a bolt arced from one tower to another.
	Strapped down to a steel table, positioned in the middle of the platform, was a bone white feline. His muscles were tone, if not somewhat malnourished, and quivered as he pulled against the secure bonds. His legs were held up by leather cables wrapped under his knees and strapped to the same bonds that held his wrists down, and held apart by a steel bar between his knees. The albino panther's tail, his only unbound limb, hung off the edge of the table and flicked around nervously. 
	Off to one side stood a short and very lanky figure. His hands, pink and boney with short, needle sharp claws, rummaged through the shelves for a certain vial. His stringy white hair was pushed back out of his bright red eyes and hung down haphazardly to the middle of his neck. The figure's fleshy pink ears stood alertly in stark contrast against his short, white fur. His narrow shoulders were draped with a tall collared, tarnished lab coat. The oversized jacket would have hung down to his knees, however, the rat's boney pink tail parted it in the back and cut the material's flow short. 
	A toothy grin spread across the apothecary's gaunt face. “Here it is,” he rasped in a strained voice, “just the … concoction I was looking for!” He spun around flamboyantly to face the helpless panther. His open coat would have completely fallen off if it wasn't for the clothing's oversized sleeves, which just barely hung onto the rat. “Now,” he continued, his voice a high pitched growl, “relax my little kitty cat. This will only hurt for the first hour!”  
	The panther went wide eyed and gasped. He shook his head and pulled hard at his restraints. “D... Doctor!” His timid voice, now in a panic, begged for freedom. “P.. Please, sir! I don'--”
	The rat cut the panther's sentence short. He grabbed the poor creature by his jaw and pried his muzzle open. “Hush up and drink for Johnathan, boy!”
	As Apothecary Johnathan poured the chemicals down his throat, the panther coughed and closed his eyes tight. If he didn't want to drown, he would have to swallow. The noxious, viscous fluids quickly filled his muzzle. With each gulp his chest began to burn hotter and hotter. Eventually, the whole potion was ingested, and the panther's coughs turned into cries of pain. His muscles tensed and his chest heaved as he thrashed about in the bonds, and despite his tortured struggle, the white feline's pale cock began to throb with arousal. 
	Johnathan threw the empty vial to the ground and sighed with satisfaction. “Ah... yes. This is exactly what I wanted!” The rat licks his teeth and ran one finger along the underside of his test subject's erect member. The pink muscle jumped in response, a response that only excited Johnathan even more. 
	Eventually, the panther's cries became moans. He panted and shivered desperately. As pre began to dribble from the feline's throbbing manhood, both his flesh and fur began to change. His cock, along with the soft pads on his hind paws and palms, slowly blended into pale blue. The pristine white fur on his body that glistened with sweat in the electric light was soon a deep cobalt blue. “D... Doctor!” he gasped.
	The apothecary wrapped his smooth pink palm around the throbbing meat. He grinned nice and wide as he slowly began to firmly stroke the shaft. The cat moaned loudly and squirmed in Johnathan’s grasp, a reaction that made the rat sigh with satisfaction. Johnathan ran his free hand through the short matted hair on his head. When pre started to run down the panther's balls, his shaft slick and thoroughly coated, the apothecary released the begging member and slid the damp paw down his own flat stomach.
	Johnathan laughed with a harsh, raspy laugh from his scarred throat as he watched the panther squirm and beg wordlessly. With his dry hand, the rat slowly brushed the unstrapped lab coat away from his neck. The collar now barely hung on the edge of his shoulders. The front of his coat hung wide open and revealed the entirety of Johnathan’s pathetically frail body. Stitches hemmed together chemically burned flesh with improperly regrown fur over lanky muscles. A shear absences of body fat left the apothecary's ribs easily traced with the eye, even through the rough white fur. The rat's damp hand, slick with his panther's sexual emissions, wrapped around his own revealed cock. His pale pink member, that even at a hand and a half long, was just as slim and lanky as the body attached to it. “Good lube,” Johnathan rasped with a satisfied sigh, “just enough too, my blue little kitty cat.”
	The lanky rat smeared his cock with the panther's altered pre. With a wide grin, he pulled himself up between his experiment’s bound legs and pressed the  head of his cock against the panther's tight tailhole. With one hand at the base of his cock and the other with a firm grip on the squirming feline's leg, Apothecary Johnathan began to push his slick meat steadily into the tight, pale blue ring.
	The panther roared out as his rear was penetrated.  He threw his head back and pulled hard against the bindings around his wrists. Tears welled in his eyes and his cock throbbed as contradictory sensations charged through the alchemically painted panther. He growled through clenched teeth as his tailhole flexed tightly around Johnathan’s intruding cock. His tail curled and flicked wildly as he tried to relax his tense muscles, but the sharp pain of first penetration and the torturously needy pleasure of arousal refused to relent on his body. 
	Not a moment was given for the poor panther to brace himself before the apothecary thrust roughly against his tight rump. He moaned and mewled loudly. He thrashed and squirmed against his binds as hard as he could, and his chest heaved as his ragged breath filled with ecstasy. With each of Johnathan’s savage thrusts, the feline meowed louder and louder. His cock throbbed and oozed thick pre, and each hilting of the rat's member deep into his tailhole drove him deeper into arousal. The slim panther slave couldn't help himself. Despite the piercing pain he knew he was in, his body burned and begged for more of the rodent apothecary's savage fucking. “Ah! Ugh... oh Doc--,” the panther began with a gasp, then cried out as loud as he could, “Master Johnathan! Yes! Master!” His frantic and lustful cries echoed against the stone walls. The tall narrow room carried the moans and mewls to the ceiling, only to be drowned out by the electric crack between the towers. 
	The apothecary was elated. After nearly a half dozen sleepless nights, and just as many unfortunately less than successful subjects in the last few hours, Johnathan had finally found just the concoction he was looking for. His satisfaction carried over to the rigor he put into his experimentation. Each of the rat's thrusts carried his entire weight behind it. His stomach tightened and a wide grin stretched across his muzzle. The apothecary's razor sharp teeth glinted in the bright blue light as the mechanical lightning cracked above them.  Johnathan was eager to conclude this test and move into production. His lab coat fell completely off his shoulders as he savagely fucked his obedient little subject. The tattered material hung off his elbows haphazardly and his bony tail thrashed behind him. Even as the tortured panther's forcibly aroused cock shoots thick blue cum against the apothecary's own white, though scared, stomach, he continued to pound his meat deep into the panther. 

	Aulric sat lazily in his throne, leaned to one side with his head braced up in his palm. The royal seat was easily large enough to seat two of the king, seemingly structured more for a winged dragon's physique than that of the young Fordragon's draken figure. The arm of the throne, which Aulric rested upon, was a large block of pristine white stone, polished to a mirror shine. Etched into the outer sides of both arms was a intricately depicted wyvern. These feral patterns were ornately inlaid crushed blue stone that matched to polished cobalt floor down below. The same white stone used in the arms composed the seat's grand back as well. However, instead of the simple structure with ornate details, the back was carved into a grand structure that enveloped the rest of the throne. Split down the middle, it was nothing short of a statue depicting two large dragon wings. The navy veins in the white stone stood out in vibrant contrast, as if they were the veins in the flesh of a real dragons wings beneath the sun. The same blue stone used on the throne arm's etchings was used again on the wings. Here they coated the bones of the wings to give their royal connection. If Aulric were to sit properly in his seat, it would almost appear as if the wings really were his own.
	The ornate throne actually sat up on a tall stage, at least twice as high as the drake stood. The stage was built into the circular wall of the throne room with large stones of deep gray and pale blues. On either side of the stage was a curved set of stairs that tapered down along the wall to meet the floor on either side of the grand double doors at the entrance to the room. Behind these stairs was another set on either side that curved upwards along the wall and towards the doors. However, even though these steps taper at the same rate as the downward ones, they only meet them three quarters of their height from the floor. Here they joined a pair of humble archways that lead into a hall which connected a series of balconies above the throne room.
	All of the stone used in the castle's construction was drawn from two specific quarries, the blue stone from a local quarry to the west, and the white marble far from the south. The most pristine was used here in the throne room as the deep cobalt floors and eloquent filigrees in the various but sparse marble ornaments. The less vibrant were used in the actual structure of the castle, from the walls to the stairs, and even the winding walkways beyond the castle walls. Through this, the kingdom was marked throughout with the royal blue to some degree, and at the center stood the great cobalt walls of Fordragon Keep.
	King Fordragon loved his people, but he hated politics. As bored as he was, he had to sit in the empty thrown room until mid-afternoon. There were many appointments to see him, yet they were all spread apart from each other so as not to delay or interrupt another. Often, though, this meant long periods of silence. With a warm smile, Aulric glanced up at the large lion beside him. This individual, the captain of his royal guard, was King Fordragon's only real refuge from the tedium. 
	Captain Cynderheart caught sight of the pink blush that crept across Aulric's blue cheeks. With a smile, Darious tapped the butt of his spear on the stage floor. “Come now, my King,” he whispered warmly “you should sit properly while attending to business.”
	Aulric cleared his throat and held back a chuckle. The pink on his cheeks faded as he sighed. “Business? Please, Captain, there isn't a soul here but the two of us.” The drake sat up adjusted the bunched cloak on his shoulders. The deep blue cape, cut down the middle with an ornate white border, settled smoothly down Aulric's back. The mid-morning sun streamed through the arched windows in the domed ceiling and reflected off the king's silver breastplate. In the light, the intricately etched pattern of a roaring wyvern shown brilliantly. 
	Darious nodded in response to the drake's observation. “True, my King, but one who has requested an audience with you may enter at--”
	“Yes, yes,” Aulric huffed, “some foreign noble will be here 'at any moment' Captian Cynderheart.” He sighed and closed his eyes as he leaned back in the oversized throne. 
	Darious gave Aulric a concerned look. His gaze slowly traveled down the blue drake's body, past the silver breastplate to the white tabard that covered the tone stomach loosely. The elaborate cobalt filigree woven into the white silk continued down the tabard as it draped between his bare thighs.  The lion's gaze followed his path past the end of the material, along his king's tone legs, stopped at silver plate boots that matched the breastplate, and slowly trailed back up. He could tell Aulric was more than bored from the way the drake held himself. “My king,” he said after a long silence, “there is something more on your mind.... Tell me, Aulric.”
	King Fordragon opened his eyes and let out a long sigh. He spoke tiredly as he stared at the decorated dome above. “I just... I wish I could help my people more directly, Darious. All the tedium of laws and taxes, all these assemblies with nobles who could care less about their subjects, the disconnection from... everything. Even with all my power as king, I can not make it go away. I wish I could make my people happy... I wish I could put a final end to all this arguing.”