Starting out as a Dragon Slave
Chapter 141: Royal Mission

Chapter 141: 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.

The king continued, a cruel smile stretching across his lips:

- "You might be tempted to believe that this mission is a chance for escape. You are gravely mistaken. These collars you wear are not merely decorations; they are your eternal chains. Every action and gesture, even every thought, is instantly known to us. No movement, no breath, no intention can escape us."

His gaze suddenly hardened, icy:

- "If you try to flee, or worse still, to betray us... the pain you have suffered until now will be nothing compared to what awaits you. Obey, serve us faithfully, and you will live like lords. Defy us, and you will die in agony."

The words resonated, icy and definitive, in the mind of every half-dragon present. Mordred felt the familiar burning of the collar around his neck, a physical reminder of his invisible chains. But he did not lower his eyes. On the contrary, his cold determination grew even greater, fueled by each threat, each reminder of his forced slavery.

The king, satisfied with the effect of his words, solemnly concluded:

- "Your apartments will remain open to you until your imminent departure. Enjoy these comforts before accomplishing your mission. You are now our shadow in the world of men. May their ignorance become our sharpest weapon."

He slowly left the hall, escorted by his close guard, leaving the assassins alone in a heavy silence. The half-dragons exchanged furtive, hesitant glances. Mordred remained apart, lost in his thoughts.

Mordred was sitting in his silent apartment, immersed in deep reflection. His fingers unconsciously brushed the obsidian collar around his neck, feeling its icy presence against his skin, like a permanent mark of slavery. His intense gaze scrutinized the emptiness, desperately seeking a solution to break these invisible chains. Each rune engraved on the collar seemed to silently laugh at his attempts, repelling his will with cold determination.

He was there, lost in his thoughts, when a familiar presence unexpectedly crossed the door of his private quarters. Mordred raised his eyes, surprised but impassive, to see the slender silhouette of Princess Elystria who had just entered with the usual grace that characterized each of her movements.

The princess stopped in the middle of the room, her gaze slowly surveying the simple but comfortable interior, and said with a mocking smile:

- "Not bad at all, as accommodations. I see they’re finally treating you like a prince."

Mordred raised an eyebrow slightly, a dark smile briefly appearing on his lips:

- "I prefer this kind of cage to the old cell, indeed. But it’s still a cage."

She laughed slightly, advancing with a fluid step toward him, her eyes sparkling with subtle complicity:

- "Always so optimistic, I see. You really don’t change."

- "And you’re always so sarcastic, princess," he replied calmly, his eyes fixed on her.

Their gazes locked for a moment, exchanging a sort of silent challenge, complicit but cautious. Then, abruptly, Elystria’s tone changed, becoming more serious, almost solemn:

- "I know what you were thinking before I arrived. About that collar you wear around your neck."

Mordred’s hand instinctively clenched on the cold metal, his fingers tightened with barely contained tension.

- "You know that this collar cannot be removed," he stated in a neutral voice but slightly tinged with cold anger. "Its magic is linked to the king himself."

Elystria nodded softly, approaching even closer. The distance between them drastically reduced in just a few steps. She plunged her gaze directly into his, intense, straightforward:

- "Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps you can’t remove it. But that doesn’t mean there’s no way to change the situation."

Without warning, she suddenly raised her hand, closing her delicate fingers around the collar. Mordred, caught off guard, tried to step back reflexively, but the gesture was already done. Elystria firmly maintained her grip on the collar, her fine but strangely powerful fingers tightened on the dark obsidian.

- "What are you doing?" asked Mordred with a hint of urgency, feeling the cold metal of the collar vibrate under the princess’s fingers.

Elystria did not answer. Her eyes gently illuminated with a silvery light, and a subtle aura began to emanate from her body. This luminous energy slowly enveloped her fingers, flowing like a silver stream along her hand, then along the collar itself.

The silver aura grew more intense, filling the room with a soft but powerful light. Mordred immediately felt the immense pressure of a royal authority that transcended anything he had felt before. This power, ancient, absolute, could only come from authentic royal blood. He immediately recognized the deep nature of this mana: the energy of a direct heiress to the draconic throne.

The collar vibrated violently, the scarlet runes engraved on its surface seeming to desperately fight against Elystria’s silver power. The muscles in the princess’s face tensed slightly, her breathing became more difficult, but she did not release her grip. Seconds became endless minutes. The silent struggle seemed endless.

Finally, after several long minutes, the princess suddenly let go, exhausted, her trembling fingers slowly leaving the surface of the collar. Her face was pale, drops of sweat gently pearling on her delicate temples. She slowly caught her breath, visibly struggling against fatigue.

Mordred stared at Elystria, his heart beating rapidly under the effect of what had just occurred. He felt something different in the collar, something subtle but fundamentally changed.

- "What did you do?" he asked in a slightly altered voice, instinctively placing a hand on the collar, now feeling a different, subtle, almost intimate connection.

The princess slowly caught her breath, then raised her eyes to him with a slight smile, almost mischievous despite the fatigue:

- "I didn’t remove your collar, Mordred. I can’t break these chains yet. But I was able to do something else."

She breathed deeply, slowly regaining her usual calm:

- "The owner of the collar has changed. The king is no longer the one who controls your destiny now. It’s me."

Mordred stared at Elystria with sincere astonishment, clearly feeling this new subtle bond that now united them. A strange, different bond, bearing uncertain potential.

She added softly, her voice almost a whisper:

- "For now, this is all I can do for you. But it should give you a little more freedom, Mordred. A little more room to maneuver to accomplish what you will have to do soon."

Mordred remained silent for a moment, measuring the colossal impact of this gesture. Then, slowly, a subtle, barely perceptible smile stretched his lips:

- "Thank you, Elystria," he simply whispered, without leaving her gaze.

She nodded gently, her smile widening slightly despite the obvious exhaustion:

- "Don’t disappoint me, Mordred. Your destiny is now linked to mine, more than ever before."

She slowly turned away, leaving the apartments as suddenly as she had entered, leaving Mordred alone in the deep silence of his room.

He remained motionless, his fingers still placed on the collar.

- "The plan: freeing Isaac, can now be set in motion," he smiled.