novelraw Chapter 435: Celebrate the Birth of a King!
Chapter 435: Celebrate the Birth of a King!
Day and night alternated, stars and moon rotated, and time slipped away like sand through fingers.
In the blink of an eye, nearly a month had passed since that earth-shattering proclamation across the wilderness.
On the vast plains near the Dragonback Mountains, a magnificent metropolis had risen against the slope of the hills, its rugged and imposing silhouette displaying a unique beauty that fused strength with order beneath the wasteland’s peculiar light.
—The Citadel of Crimson Flame.
This colossal capital, personally named by Garoth, took a grand semi-circular layout. The curved, massive outer walls clung to the steep mountainside, turning the naturally towering body of the Dragonback Mountains into its most reliable rear and an insurmountable shield.
It seemed like an iron spine extending from the Dragonback Mountains.
It firmly guarded the convergence lands between the Broadly Fertile Plain and the mountain foothills.
The city was layered from outside to inside, with clear hierarchy.
The outer ring contained markets, workshops, and orderly residential zones. According to meticulous urban planning, guarded barracks, supply warehouses, and other facilities were reasonably distributed throughout the city.
The deeper inward one moved, the greater the importance.Adjacent to the mountain base were the elevated, heavily guarded core zones.
Here were the main garrisons and residences of many elite followers, dragon-blooded, and the heads of major tribes, and it was the closest to the Ignas Dragon Court.
This was also to become the kingdom’s center for military, judicial, economic, and political affairs—the heart of order and development.
Departments responsible for diplomacy, industry, culture, and education were already being drafted and continuously refined.
At the founding of a nation, there is much to develop.
No matter how rigorous the initial plans, there would inevitably be oversights and shortcomings that needed to be perfected step by step over the years; nothing could be achieved all at once.
Dragons lived long lives; they were not hurried.
Above the Citadel of Crimson Flame, on mist-wreathed peaks and plateaued mountain terraces, sat the high-mountain royal court reserved for the draconic ruling class, the Ignas Dragon Court.
Numerous dragon nests, carved into or constructed along the slopes, connected to the bustling city below via wide, spiraling ramps and some concealed internal passages.
This maintained necessary contact while preserving a certain transcendent distance.
By now, countless beings of many races had moved into the emerging Citadel of Crimson Flame.
Kobolds, gnolls, ogres, centaurs, goblins... even many residents originally living in early human settlements within the Ximu Domain had, after Garoth’s official proclamation of statehood, taken oaths and received Aola citizenship, becoming new members of the dragon capital.
These varied and divergent intelligent beings together formed Aola Kingdom’s diverse racial foundation.
Now this vast city forged by dragon will stood ready in every respect, awaiting only the favorable wind.
It held its breath, waiting for its sole sovereign to be formally crowned king.
At the summit of the high-mountain court, the wind was bitter and cold.
Garoth stood silently at the mountain’s edge, looking down over the nascent shape of his kingdom.
“What are you thinking?” a heavy voice interrupted the mountain-top murmur.
The king turned his massive, scale-armored head, and the graceful figure of Deborah, the brass-silver dragon, came into view.
“What a beautiful scene we have before us, what grandeur,” she said.
Garoth did not answer directly. He spread his massive dragon wings to their fullest extent.
The wing membranes shaded the sunlight overhead as if the shadow could cloak the entire citadel; then he folded his wings back, returning to his usual posture.
“I was thinking how long it will last.”
“Will it bloom for mere decades or a century and then fade; or will it truly endure, like the sun always hanging in the sky, eternal and shining?”
His gaze swept past the Citadel of Crimson Flame to the far territories, his voice low and slow.
“That depends on you, Garoth.”
Deborah could clearly feel the emotional fluctuation in the red iron dragon. She comforted him softly, “I believe your kingdom will be as tenacious as you.”
“It will stand through wind and rain without falling, sharpened further by trials.”
“As long as you remain, it will endure.”
The red iron dragon extended a powerful wing.
Given their sizes, that wingspan could easily envelop the relatively smaller brass-silver dragon.
He drew Deborah close to his side.
“I like hearing you say that,” he murmured, a semblance of a smile tugging at his mouth.
With Deborah quietly at his side, Garoth fell silent, merely watching the vibrant Citadel of Crimson Flame below—the realm he was about to rule.
He awaited the moment of formal coronation.
As time passed, the long-anticipated day finally arrived as promised.
New Year 327, September first, early autumn.
When the first light of dawn tore across the horizon, dyeing the peaks of the Dragonback Mountains in glorious gold and ember, the entire Citadel of Crimson Flame had already fully awakened.
No—more accurately, it had already erupted into feverish excitement and expectation.
Today was the coronation day of the Red Iron Dragon Emperor Garoth Ignas; the day Aola Kingdom would make its formal debut on the world stage and announce its existence to other nations.
Beyond the grand city walls, delegations from the southern nations arrived one after another.
Most eye-catching among them was the envoy from Lothrian, the former head of the Federation.
Lothrian’s envoy was of no ordinary rank: Crystal Princess Elina, who had maintained decades of contact and friendship with the Ignas dragons.
To show the utmost importance to the dragon kingdom’s founding and to honor Garoth, the Crystal Princess had personally come, crossing mountains and waters to reach this northern wilderness.
Time had not defeated the beauty.
Though not yet a hundred years old, she still looked in the prime of youth, though her deep eyes contained wisdom and composure far beyond her age.
Her demeanor was serene and dignified, marking her as distinct among the envoys.
She rode in a lavish carriage adorned with exquisite crystal and iris motifs, flanked by a retinue of royal elite guards, well-equipped and solemn-faced, moving slowly forward.
On the carriage’s right side walked the massive, powerfully built Iron Dragon Gordon.
He no longer wore the slightly rotund look of his youth; he had trained his body into unparalleled might, his muscles filling out under thick iron-gray scales, his strength surpassing that of ordinary red dragons.
His iron-gray scales were polished like mirrors, some parts even inlaid with elegant patterns.
The iron dragon looked splendid, far from the image of a brutish evil dragon; his comfortable life in the Lothrian royal court was evident.
Ah—!
With grinding friction, the great iron gate of the Citadel of Crimson Flame, poured from steel, slowly opened after ceremonial waiting.
Two towering blue dragon guards stood motionless on either side like metal statues.
Even the gate guards are dragons?
This made many envoys glance sideways, realizing for the first time a concrete idea of a dragon nation.
The beastly aura in the air created an invisible pressure, causing newcomers to instinctively hold their breath.
“Hey, Elina, we’re going in first! I can’t wait to see the big scene our brothers put up!” Gordon could not hide his excitement, lowering his huge head and nudging the carriage window toward the Crystal Princess; his voice, excited, sounded somewhat loud.
Elina nodded gracefully, a faint smile at her lips. “All right, let’s go in.”
The carriage wheels turned. As honored first guests, the Lothrian delegation passed through the opened gates and entered the capital.
Other delegations followed closely.
After passing the gate, the Crystal Princess drew back the carriage curtain and looked with scrutiny and curiosity at the city within.
The first sight that struck her was an unbelievably broad central avenue,
wide enough for several great beasts to walk abreast.
The avenue ran straight toward the towering Dragonback Mountains. On either side stood regiment after regiment in ranks like a forest of iron.
At the forefront, closest to the envoy columns, stood the Dragonforged Warriors.
They were generally over three meters tall, like iron towers. Clad in dark, heavy full-coverage armor, their chest and shoulder plates bore harsh, grim dragon-head bas-reliefs; each held a massive broad sword or a long-handled battle axe the size of a door. Merely standing there they radiated a plain but real draconic pressure.
So many Dragonforged Warriors formed a silent forest of steel along the avenue.
Just walking through their corridor made the seasoned escorts in the delegations tense, palms slightly sweating, clearly sensing that draconic oppression.
How did they get so many dragon-blooded?
Relying only on natural births or dragon vein transformation seemed unlikely to produce such numbers.
Envoys exchanged puzzled, cautious looks.
Following the Dragonforged lines were the ogre heavy infantry corps.
These ogres had been selected and trained to a degree. They were generally slightly shorter than their wild kin but were massive and covered in fat like walking hills.
Muscles and sinews coiled beneath, appearing like intertwined draconic ropes.
They wore rough yet standardized alchemical steel heavy armor, a dam of flesh and metal.
Their heavy breaths merged into a low hum, like the earth itself inhaling.
Ahead marched other formations, varied in form but equally disciplined.
Gnolls bared teeth and gripped weapons, eyes filled with thirst for slaughter yet standing immobile; centaurs looked steadier, half-armored with bows or war spears at the ready, quiet before the charge; alchemical golems stood placid—some models differed from common ones, clearly modified to better suit the wilderness.
At the front of every formation flew a unique battle standard.
The flag base color was unified—red symbolizing power and flame—with gold or black thread embroidered insignia: a heavy war hammer, trampling hooves, a snarling skull... but all without exception protected the highest of flags, a dragon standard.
The discipline displayed by these formations unnerved the envoys, and they exchanged heavy looks.
They understood that although many were intelligent races, many of those species were innately wild and prone to chaos. Training them to such strict, silent obedience showed the Ignas Dragon Court had a mature command system.
Compared to many forces built by evil dragon lords—whose followers were mere rabble gathered under dragon might without discipline—this organization, though forged from the wilderness’s lowest rungs, had real substance.
Anyone who dared underestimate it would pay dearly.
The road to the high-mountain court seemed endlessly long.
The envoys walked not only a parade avenue but a path that exposed the kingdom’s ruling foundations and war potential.
The solemn, murderous atmosphere almost had weight, pressing on every envoy’s chest.
On the wide road, only faint footfalls, the wheels over paving stones, and the roaring of countless flags in the wasteland wind could be heard.
After a while they passed the parade avenue’s length and reached the foot of the Dragonback Mountains.
At the avenue’s end lay a vast circular plaza paved with great slabs.
At its far end rose giant stone steps built into the mountainside, leading to the coronation dais halfway up the slope.
The dais was paved with dark metal and red stone, its rims lined with enormous braziers. Black-and-red dragon banners fluttered wildly in the gale, bearing a roaring dragon head and crossed blades emblem.
Below, the Crystal Princess was escorted to the southern nations’ section, and the attending envoys took their seats.
“Truly majestic... this suits my brother’s status!” Gordon let out a satisfied rumble, pride sparkling in his great dragon eyes.
Just then, a sound stole attention.
A delegation wearing different armor styles—emblazoned with sword-and-shield crests quite unlike Marcus’s—strode into the viewing area led by a measured middle-aged noble.
Their guards were hawk-eyed, disciplined, emanating a battlefield-hardened austerity.
“Rybos Kingdom?” the Crystal Princess raised an eyebrow.
Rybos had sent envoys too?
She hadn’t expected that.
What caught her attention even more was that some smaller kingdoms and duchies with clear diplomatic leanings toward Rybos also appeared in the retinue.
Among them were the Divine Kingdom of Theo, bordering the wilderness and recently clashing with the Molten Iron Tribe, and even the Raymond Duchy, which had past grievances with the Molten Iron Tribe!
Theo’s envoy was Marquis Marcus, the northern-wilderness specialist.
He wore a masklike expression, betraying nothing of his thoughts.
His eyes flicked around, perhaps scanning for someone or quietly assessing the city and ceremony’s true value.
As the Rybos delegation passed the Lothrian column, the middle-aged noble at their head stopped, turned toward the Crystal Princess, and greeted her with a surprised smile and a slight bow.
“I did not expect to meet Her Royal Highness Princess Elina here,” his voice loud enough to reach many nearby listeners. “It seems Lothrian attaches immense importance and genuine sincerity to Emperor Ignas’s coronation.”
Elina turned slowly, her gaze calm on Marquis Butler.
A flawless, composed smile crossed her face. “Marquis Butler, Rybos also sent you as a high-ranking envoy, did it not?”
“This shows that our southern nations share a unified level of concern for the new northern order.”
Marquis Butler was clearly a powerful noble within Rybos; his presence was a strong signal.
His eyes flickered; he hadn’t expected this composed princess who rarely left the inner court.
Returning the standard smile, he said, “Of course, of course. Witnessing the birth of a new kingdom—how could Rybos miss such a grand event?”
Marquis Marcus, just behind Butler, interjected merrily, “By the way, we of the Theo Kingdom had some small conflicts and misunderstandings with this Lord of Molten Iron before.”
“Lothrian seems quite close with the Dragon Court. Might Princess Elina help smooth things over? Turn swords into incense?”
Elina glanced at Marcus, not taking the bait.
She turned back to the solemn coronation dais as if his words were autumn breezes.
Marcus felt dismissed, his face briefly clouding, but he knew the gulf in status and chose not to press.
Butler then sat with the Rybos and allied envoys across from Lothrian’s delegation.
In an instant a palpable wall seemed to rise between Rybos and its partners and the other delegations.
The previously placid mood shifted to a subtle, tense uncertainty.
Watching this, envoys mentally made their calculations.
This Aola founding ceremony might not only inaugurate a new northern order but also become a fresh potential arena for old southern disputes and covert power plays.
“Those people look suspicious. Could they be here to cause trouble?”
“If so, they’re courting death.”
Gordon snorted low, leaning his huge head to Elina and whispering in tones only they could share, a flash of ferocity in his dragon pupils.
Elina gently shook her head. “No.”
“Envoys represent a nation’s dignity, especially in such a public scene.”
“On the surface, at least, they come with goodwill and congratulations.”
She paused, her gaze deepening. “Perhaps... Rybos sees the potential and value of the Ignas Dragon Court and seeks to court them away from us.”
Alliances were not eternal; interests were.
If Rybos offered conditions more tempting than Lothrian’s, who could guarantee this newly risen northern dragon would not turn its gaze southward?
The thought darkened the Crystal Princess’s brows as she began to rapidly consider countermeasures.
Although the viewing area maintained outward peace, inside the envoys’ minds currents churned.
Time passed in this atmosphere until noon approached.
The sun hung high in the azure sky, its scorching rays falling straight down, making every rock of the Dragonback Mountains glitter as if the range burned.
Sound—!
At that moment, a deep, hollow, penetrating trumpet sounded unexpectedly, tearing through the tense hush.
One call after another rolled from the mountain peaks to the city, solemn and majestic, drowning out all other noise and drawing every gaze to the high coronation dais.
Here he comes!
Everyone, citizens and envoys alike, held their breath.
Boom!
A massive black-and-red figure tore through the sky like a meteor ripping the heavens, descending from the highest point of the high-mountain court.
It was Garoth Ignas!
The uncrowned king of the Ser Wilderness, the sole ruler of this land!
He arrived in his full, imposing, powerful red iron dragon form.
His great wings spread fully, each beat whipping up roaring gales that flapped the flags into frenzy.
In the noon glare, his black-red scales gleamed like molten rock—dark and blazing. The battle-hardened patterns that recorded countless fights showed themselves with particular clarity and solemnity.
He did not land directly on the throne.
Circling above the dais, his dragon pupils—like two cooled stars—swept across the small figures below. His boundless force and kingly presence enshrouded the sky and earth.
“King! Hail the great Lord of Molten Iron!!”
A roar of worship and fanatic fervor rose like a tidal wave from every corner of the city and from each formation on the plaza.
The sound crashed into the hearts of foreign onlookers, letting them feel exactly how unshakable this ruler’s place was among his people.
Huff! Huff! Huff!!!
As if answering the frenzied acclaim, dragons of many shapes flew out from the nests of the high-mountain court.
They rose in disciplined ranks until they clustered beside and behind the red iron dragon.
Layer upon layer of dragon might intertwined, a surging wave of power that swept through sky and land, freezing the air around it.
Garoth slowly descended.
Seconds later his ponderous, majestic form set down at the center of the coronation dais, and the platform sounded a dull boom announcing his arrival.
Then, to the astonishment of many envoys who could hardly believe their eyes,
four metallic dragon silhouettes—distinct from the five-colored dragons—swept across the blue sky and hovered above the dais.
They were four Metal Dragons!
Three bore scales shining in gold—the highest-ranking of metal dragons, the Gold Dragons.
The other was elegant and peculiar, its scales a weave of silver-white and honeyed tones: a mixed-blood Metal Dragon.
Among them was Karus, the Gold Dragon who had once fallen beneath Garoth’s claws.
He had recently received an invitation and had traveled a long distance to take part in the founding festivities, his heart filled with excitement.
Of the four dragons, Deborah spoke first.
Her voice was clear and solemn, carrying over the plaza and mountainside:
“In the name of the Raging Tides Dragon Domain, Deborah Stanitor is present!”
Two Gold Dragons followed, their voices like ringing golden bells:
“In the name of the Vophal Dragon Domain, Alberto Aurelius is present!”
“In the name of the Vophal Dragon Domain, Nasha Aurelius is present!”
Finally, Karus lifted his head and let out a roar that filled the clouds:
“In the name of the Everbright Dragon Domain, by the bloodline of the Gold Dragon King’s descendants, Karus Vellaperion is present!”
The four Metal Dragons’ voices were like four converging torrents, cutting into the heavens and overriding other sounds.
They adjusted positions, faced the dais and the crowd below, and in unison proclaimed with solemn gravity:
“We jointly witness!”
“Garoth Ignas, who unites the wasteland territories by strength and will; who commands the hearts of the masses with wisdom and demeanor; whose acts accord with draconic honor; whose heart upholds order!”
“Today, here atop the Dragonback, above the Citadel of Crimson Flame, under countless eyes!”
“We bear witness together—Aola Kingdom is founded here; we bear witness together—Garoth Ignas is crowned king here!”
Envoys in the viewing stands were stupefied.
What had they just seen?
Gold Dragons from three distinct dragon domains had come together to witness and endorse the coronation of a red iron dragon—one tainted by an evil-dragon bloodline?!
Unbelievable, unheard of!
If the overwhelming draconic power before them were not so real, if the identities of the four Metal Dragons did not speak for themselves, they would have thought they were caught in some masterful illusion.
Princess Elina, seated among the spectators, could not help widening her eyes.
She had suspected that the red iron dragon might have deep ties to the dragon domains, but never imagined such depth.
Three major dragon domains were involved!
One of them was the transcendent Everbright Domain, and it came personally endorsed by a descendant of the Gold Dragon King!
Across the way, Marquis Butler of Rybos grew grave, his thoughts of deep evaluation apparent.
Marquis Marcus of Theo’s pupils narrowed and his hands tightened on his knees, though he remained mute and cast frequent glances around.
Meanwhile,
Samantha, the red dragon blacksmith, hovered near Garoth’s side and raised her dragon claw in solemnity.
A carefully crafted crown shimmered into being, pulsing red light and inset with a ring of gemstones, suspended in the air.
It was the coronation crown she had painstakingly forged for her brother.
Its design perfectly matched Garoth’s mighty head, enhancing his majesty.
Samantha and Sorog, the iron dragon strategist, descended together from the sky.
Standing to his left and right with solemn dignity, they reached out their claws and together lifted the crown high, then placed it steadily upon Garoth’s slightly lowered head.
When the crown settled, Samantha and Sorog lifted their heads and issued sonorous dragon roars that shook the sky.
“Celebrate! For the birth of a king! Offer blessings!”
At once, every dragon circling the dais—five-colored or metal—lifted its head.
They drew deep breaths and exhaled multicolored dragon breaths toward the limitless sky.
Scorching flames, bone-chilling frost, raging lightning... these elements did not destroy but braided together in the high air into a vast, brilliant, magnificent curtain, as if setting the sky aflame and cloaking it.
The spectacle was a sight that would burn into anyone’s memory.
Garoth slowly turned and looked down at his city and people.
“I, Garoth Ignas, hereby declare the founding of Aola Kingdom!”
“These lands within sight are the territories of my nation! These people and the hearts bound by blood are pledged to my realm!”
“The glory of the kingdom is my glory — it shall be shared like sunlight and rain with all loyal subjects!”
“The kingdom’s laws are my laws — an iron fist to protect the faithful, to punish all treachery!”
“The kingdom’s will is my will — unbowed! Unyielding! Conquer! Strengthen! Until eternity!”
Emperor Ignas’s words were simple and direct, laden with the low tones of a great beast. Each word fell like a war hammer upon the listeners’ hearts, quickening pulses and blood.
“May the sovereign live forever! May Aola Kingdom endure forever—!!”
An even more frenzied roar burst like a tidal wave that nearly tore the sky.
Inside and outside the Citadel of Crimson Flame, across species and origins, countless beings bore witness to the birth of a dragon kingdom — blessed and witnessed by three major dragon domains, with the rare joint support of five-colored and Metal Dragons, and under the gaze of envoys from many southern states.
Aola Kingdom, on this day and at this moment, stood firmly in the north of the Etrane Continent.
A dragon sovereign forged of iron and fire, ruling by strength and will, had ascended the dramatic world stage. With the formal coronation of the Red Iron Dragon Emperor, the world was bound to see more upheavals.
For every creature in the wilderness,
a new era had arrived.