The Authors Memoir

The celebration day arrived with a sense of impending tension that only Nickan and Sengoku could perceive. As anticipated, King Enor's son arrived from his domain just before the ceremony was set to begin. Sengoku had returned from his own kingdom after finalizing instructions for the parallel celebration, rejoining Enzu at the Enor palace as evening approached.

King Enor summoned Sengoku to his private chambers with evident excitement.

"Sengoku, my son-in-law," the king announced with pride, "this is my only son, Enro."

The young man stepped forward, extending his hand for a formal greeting. "Hi, brother-in-law, nice to meet you."

Sengoku accepted the handshake with outward cordiality. "Likewise."

As they clasped hands, Sengoku studied Enro carefully, and Nickan observed the prince through their shared perception. Enro possessed eyes that burned like molten embers, complemented by a sly, confident smirk that embodied dangerous charm. His raven-black hair, streaked with hints of crimson that seemed to glow under the firelight, framed a sharp and daring face. He was clad in intricately crafted dark armor adorned with golden engravings that caught the light with each calculated movement. Every step he took carried the poise of a predator—deliberate and assured.

A crimson-hued sword rested at his side, its edge gleaming with an ominous glow as if thirsting for battle. A fur-lined cloak draped from his shoulders, completing a visage that commanded both fear and fascination. He appeared as a warrior forged in flame, ruthless yet magnetic, a leader unafraid to carve his path through chaos.

Enzu approached, placing a gentle hand on her brother's armored shoulder. "You must be tired from your journey. Take some rest before the celebration begins."

Enro nodded, casting a final measured glance at Sengoku before departing. Once he was gone, Enzu turned to her husband.

"Would you mind overseeing the final preparations? I want everything to be perfect tonight."

Though Sengoku would have preferred to keep his attention fixed on the prince, he nodded in agreement. "Of course, my love."

As Enzu departed to attend to her own responsibilities, Sengoku summoned his six wives to a secluded alcove away from prying eyes and curious ears.

"Observe Enzu's brother and King Enor," he instructed them. "If anything seems unusual, report to me immediately. Do not intervene without my command."

They dispersed silently, each taking up strategic positions throughout the palace. Sengoku proceeded to inspect the preparations for the celebration, his senses hyperalert despite his outward appearance of casual interest.

Night fell over the kingdom, and the great hall blazed with hundreds of candles and torches. Guests from both kingdoms mingled, unaware of the tension simmering beneath the festive atmosphere. Sengoku positioned himself near the main entrance, monitoring arrivals while maintaining conversation with various nobles.

Enzu made her entrance, and all conversation momentarily ceased. She wore a gown of midnight blue silk embroidered with silver threads that captured the light like stars in a night sky. The fabric cascaded over her form in gentle waves, accentuating the modest swell of her pregnant belly without restricting her movement. Her black hair had been arranged in an elaborate style, with intricate braids forming a crown atop her head while the remainder cascaded down her back in loose curls. Crystal pins shaped like dragon tears were scattered throughout, catching the light with every movement.

Her skin seemed to glow from within, the pregnancy bringing a blush to her cheeks that required no cosmetic enhancement. Around her neck hung a pendant of blue sapphire—a gift from Sengoku that matched her eyes perfectly. As she moved through the crowd, she carried herself with the grace of a queen and the radiance of impending motherhood.

Sengoku himself had dressed for the occasion in his finest attire—a suit of pristine white with silver embroidery that formed subtle dragon scales when caught in the right light. It contrasted sharply with his usual battle attire, giving him the appearance of nobility rather than a warrior.

As the celebration progressed, Nuzu approached Sengoku discreetly. "Nothing seems out of the ordinary, husband. We've monitored all entries and exits, and the prince has behaved appropriately."

Sengoku frowned, tension evident in his posture. "There must be something missing. I'm sure of it! My source can't be wrong."

"What is the info source, husband?" Nuzu inquired softly.

"Sorry, can't tell," Sengoku replied. "That's what Yamato is after. Just like he placed Suzu among us, I've added a traitor to his ranks."

Ruzu stepped closer, her expression solemn. "Fine, husband. We trust you."

The simple statement brought unexpected gratification to Sengoku, who nodded in acknowledgment. "Take your positions. Be ready for anything."

The six wives dispersed once more, blending seamlessly into the celebration while maintaining their vigilance. Nickan, observing through Sengoku's consciousness, could feel the dragon lord's heightened awareness of every movement, every sound in the hall.

Enro entered the celebration wearing a green suit adorned with the royal emblem of the Enor kingdom. He moved with casual confidence through the crowd, accepting congratulations for his sister's pregnancy while his eyes constantly scanned the room.

King Enor arrived shortly after, dressed in his customary royal regalia. Beside him walked the high priest, an elderly man whose white robes seemed to float around his thin frame.

"Where is the mother-to-be?" the priest inquired. "I must bestow the traditional blessing."

Enzu approached and knelt before the priest, who placed his wrinkled hands upon her head. He murmured ancient words of protection and prosperity, invoking the favor of the kingdom's deities upon the unborn child.

When the priest had finished, King Enor stepped forward to offer his own blessing as a father. He spoke words of love and pride, promising his support and wisdom to both mother and child.

Sengoku observed the ceremony with apparent pleasure, but Nickan could sense his true focus remained on security. Through their shared perception, Nickan felt Sengoku's constant awareness of King Enor's position, of the location of each wife, of the movement of every guest who approached the royal family.

Nickan knew what was coming next. He had read this passage before, understood the tragedy that was about to unfold, and was powerless to prevent it. A profound sadness washed over him as he realized that what was about to happen could not be undone, not by him and not by Sengoku despite all his preparation.

As Enzu stepped aside, King Enor stood momentarily alone in the center of the hall, raising his goblet to toast his daughter and future grandchild. In that instant, two arrows cut through the air from opposite corners of the room, their trajectories calculated to ensure at least one would find its mark.

With inhuman speed, Sengoku leapt forward, his hands morphing into scaled claws that snatched the arrows from the air mere inches from the king's chest. "Capture the archers!" he shouted to his wives, who moved immediately in response.

Chaos erupted as guests scrambled for safety. Through the disorder, Enro drew his sword and advanced on Sengoku and the king.

"Let go and surrender," he commanded, his voice carrying over the panic. "If you do so, you shall not be harmed by master Yamato. I promise."

Sengoku turned to face him, his expression hardening. "Who do you think you're talking to, you cocky brat?"

King Enor stepped forward, confusion and disbelief etched on his features. "What's going on? Why is my son raising his sword at me?"

"He was ordered by Yamato to kill you," Sengoku explained, his eyes never leaving Enro. "When I conquered Hanzo castle, the domain your son was ruling became Yamato's primary target. After taking control, he spared your son's life in exchange for yours."

The king's face drained of color. "That can't be!"

"That's how it is, ya geezer," Enro snarled, all pretense of respect abandoned. "Come to me so I can kill you, or else Master Yamato will kill me."

"Unfortunately, that can't happen," Sengoku replied, his voice cold with controlled rage. "Surrender already, you ungrateful brat."

With a roar of frustration, Enro lunged forward, his crimson sword slicing through the air with deadly precision. Sengoku made no move to draw his own weapon. Instead, scales erupted from his forearms, spreading across his hands and fingers, hardening into natural armor that gleamed like polished metal.

The prince's first strike connected with Sengoku's transformed arm, producing a shower of sparks but failing to penetrate the dragon scales. Sengoku countered with a swift movement, grabbing the blade with his scaled hand and twisting it sharply. The unexpected maneuver nearly wrenched the sword from Enro's grip, forcing him to step back and reassess his opponent.

Enro attacked again, this time with a series of rapid strikes aimed at different points of Sengoku's body. The dragon lord moved with fluid grace, his scaled arms intercepting each blow while he advanced steadily toward his opponent. Metal rang against scale repeatedly, but Sengoku appeared untouched by the assault.

Growing desperate, Enro attempted a feint, drawing Sengoku's attention to a high strike before changing direction to target his unprotected legs. Sengoku anticipated the move, dropping to one knee and extending his arm to catch the blade once more. In a single powerful motion, he pulled Enro forward off balance and delivered a devastating strike to the prince's chest with his free hand.

The impact sent Enro crashing to the floor, his sword skittering across the polished stone. Before he could recover, Sengoku was upon him, one scaled hand pressing against his throat.

"Yield," Sengoku commanded.

Enro glared up at him with hatred but offered no further resistance.

While attention focused on the defeated prince, a subtle displacement of air was the only warning of a new presence. Yamato himself had entered the chamber, floating silently on a small cloud that kept him suspended above the crowd. With a fluid motion, he drew and hurled a sword directly at King Enor's back, the blade spinning through the air without making a sound.

Nickan, sharing Sengoku's perception, detected the movement an instant too late. Enzu, who had been moving to her father's side, saw the glint of metal and reacted instinctively. She threw herself forward, intercepting the blade with her body.

The sword pierced her belly, driving deep into the womb that carried Sengoku's unborn child. Blood immediately bloomed across the midnight blue silk of her gown, transforming the silver stars into crimson galaxies. She collapsed to her knees, crimson liquid spilling from her lips as her hands clutched futilely at the embedded blade.

Blood pooled beneath her, spreading across the polished floor in a widening circle as she toppled sideways. Sengoku abandoned his captive immediately, covering the distance between them in a heartbeat, but Nickan knew—as did Sengoku—that they were already too late.

By the time Sengoku gathered Enzu into his arms, her eyes had grown distant and unfocused. The life was draining from her with each beat of her heart, taking with it the promise of their child—their son, only three months formed but already named, already loved.

Nickan felt the grief rising within Sengoku, a tidal wave of emotion that threatened to overwhelm their shared consciousness. Beneath the sorrow lay something darker, more primal—a rage so pure and focused that it seemed to alter the very air around them.

As Enzu's final breath left her body, something fundamentally changed within Sengoku. The careful calculation, the strategic planning that had characterized his approach to conquest and rule, gave way to a singular purpose that Nickan could feel taking root like a physical force.

The dragon prince cradled his wife's lifeless form, her blood staining his white suit crimson, the symbolic transformation from light to darkness mirroring the change occurring within him. In that moment, as Sengoku held the bodies of his wife and unborn child, Nickan understood what would come next—the unrestrained fury of a dragonslayer whose treasure had been stolen, whose future had been erased.

The chapter of protection and prevention had ended in failure. What would follow would be vengeance on a scale that would reshape every kingdoms in existence.