Chapter 16.5: Brothers, Enemies

The Dra-tiichi smiled. The wrinkles in his face betrayed his remaining monstrous strength as he looked at the younglings gathered within his chamber to hear the tales that would serve as their lesson: the history of the Dracova and their hero, The Keiseer. Sitting down slowly in his chair with the aid of his wide-bladed sword, he began the ancient tale.

"Long ago, the home of all dragons, Oldesta, fell to a world-devouring civil war. Many sought to escape, and two greater dragons, Eskalade and our great bafotruhk, Ukitaan, helped them in a desperate escape and came to Usoria. They found refuge on a lonely but fertile island in the middle of a great sea, which we now call Pantheon. But to the heartbreak of Ukitaan, she did not find a suitable mate among those who escaped or the dragons living within Usoria. She wandered for many years until an overly ambitious human defeated her. He was from a world called Earth named Phillip of Cognac." The younglings pressed in closer, listening intently. Two of them, close friends, scooted even closer: Macross and Vulcurion.

"As Phillip readied to deliver the final blow, her sad and lonely eyes caught his attention; they almost seemed to say, 'Is this how it will end?'. When Phillip finally sheathed his sword, Ukitaan asked why he hesitated and that it would only offer her another chance to destroy him. Phillip only sighed, explaining that he was alone in the world he came from.

"Feeling sorry for the great dragon, and for what he had done, he bandaged her wounds and looked after her until she could move again. Once she could, Ukitaan felt she had found the mate she had been seeking for so long. But how could she cultivate such a relationship when she could easily squash him underfoot? She prayed to our Jennu Opsola, Quetzalquatol, seeking a means to allow her love to grow. Seeing the thread that tied her heart to a human, he cast his power over Ukitaan, changing her to take on a partially human form. When Phillip saw her new form, he was initially nervous but slowly warmed to her advances. Their relationship was volatile at best, but they were inseparable, and soon, a child was born; the first Dracova; the body of a human, with the horns, wings, tail, and strength of drakin.

"More children came, and Pantheon became a wealthy city. Some Dracova chose human mates from the continent of Usoria, birthing offspring with fewer Dracova traits but still carrying the fire that burns within us all. As we ventured out, the Usorians saw us as a threat to the humans, elves, and fairies, despite evidence to the contrary. Our draconic blood roared to protect our families and loved ones, calling on our drakin, becoming fiercely famous far and wide for our strength in battle. Rumors began to spread that if a human defeated a Dracova, your name would echo as 'Slayer' through eternity.

"We cried to our Jennu Opsola for help as the attacks became more frequent and violent, leaving hundreds of Dracova and thousands of humans dead. Quetzalquatol heard our cries and spoke to a goddess of Usoria, Minerna, The Great Mother. She came down in all her glory and declared that The Great Mother would severely judge anyone who hunted or attacked us. The goddess then instructed the Dra-tiichi of Pantheon to gather all Dracova and their families back to Pantheon. For a generation, the attacks ceased, and we Dracova lived in peace." Again, the young seated at the Dra-tiichi's feet pressed in closer to listen, Macross and Vulcurion elbowing each other. Others fidgeted and squirmed as tiny wings brushed against faces or short tails were squished. The Dra-tiichi waited for all the young ones to quiet down before continuing.

"Despite the goddess's threats, the humans could not see past their greed and fear. Legends began spreading that our power was rooted in our dragon heritage! Poachers would attack the Dra-tiichi, erasing their memories with newly discovered Usorian Magic. The attacked Dracova would be found missing their horns and sometimes even their tail and wings.

"These humans took their prizes, devouring them in many tonics and brews in hopes of harnessing our strength. When that did not sate their desires, other rumors told how the Drarytiss (Warriors) gained our abilities from the blades we wield, not from our strength of arm and skill. As the stories took root, many Dracova became the victims of brutal attacks if they visited Usoria for any reason.

"Those that dared left Pantheon again, seeking out human villages where they could live in peace and be closer to the people of their mates, but it was no use. The Dracova offered supplication to Minerna once more, and again, the goddess showed her power and slew those who brought this heinous act against us. Despite that, the attacks only swelled, becoming raids of Usorian Dracova villages, devastating it for a chance to claim one of our blades, even if no Drarytiss were present. In desperation, the Dracova turned to their drakin, asking the dragons for aid in their protection, and still, the humans came.

"During a particularly vicious attack, a Shiivi-cova (Soldier) stood against the hoard of humans with nothing but a wooden shield. The Shiivi-cova was mortally wounded but still pulled his battered body towards the screams and wails within the burning village, wanting to protect them.

"As he crawled, the greater dragon Eskalade saw him and could sense the Shiivi-cova's desire to protect his people, which moved him. The greater dragon was grievously wounded and wouldn't live to see the end of the day, so with the last ounce of his strength, Eskalade fused his immense power and knowledge with the Shiivi-cova, giving rise to the very first Trothar-cuin of the Dracova: The Keiseer. His power dwarfed even the most powerful mage among the humans, his armor becoming as hard as dragon scales and taking on their form, covering his entire body." The Dra-tiichi stood, motioning down his body with a wave of his arms, his enthusiasm rising while the youngling's eyes widened with wonder.

"With his aid, the attacks finally stopped, and Keiseer watched over the Dracova as Trothar-cuin from that day forward. To this day, no one knows the identity of the first Keiseer. But he has guarded our people generation after generation. It is said that when the time is right, the Keiseer will leave his post and fly through the world, searching for a successor by holding out his sword to them. Only the successor will see the face of the previous Keiseer." The Dra-tiichi finished, reaching behind him, drawing his heavy sword from the ground, and pointing it to the wide-eyed young ones. They all stared at his sword for a time before jumping up and running out into the front yard, picking up sticks and swinging them like the Shiivi-cova from so long ago.

"When I grow up, I'm gonna be the next Keiseer and protect my mama!" Macross shouted at the top of his lungs, to which Vulcurion quickly objected.

"No, I'm going to be the next Keiseer and protect everyone!" he shouted, soon objected by many other young ones as they swung oversized sticks in imaginary adventures as Keiseer, the Great Protector and hero.

"Maybe one day, one of you will, just as you did, my dear granddaughter." The Dra-tiichi muttered, looking up to Keiseer Yeso, the current Trothar-cuin, and smiled. He vividly remembered the day he passed the title to her, training her mercilessly until she could hold the True Keiseer form. Once her training was complete, she took her place above Pantheon's massive viaduct bridge connecting Pantheon and Usoria, her glowing gaze watching over even the most human of Dracova.

Twenty years later

Macross and Vulcurion hurtled through the training course, only competing with themselves and leaving the others far behind. They moved as though they were one, performing maneuvers in perfect sync. Each swing of their giant swords sliced through obstacles before them, crossing the finish line simultaneously. Over the years, Macross became known for his unusual brute strength, even feared by some of the Caex Ankin, or sword masters. Vulcurion was just as famous: he didn't have the same ferocious brute strength as Macross but was still an esteemed swordsman. Mostly, however, he used his sword as a last resort, preferring to find a solution through communication.

"Are the two of you in a race or something? You've both blown the course record away again!" one of the instructors scolded, grinning as they caught their breath while waiting for the others.

"I want to see his face when I'm chosen to be the next Keiseer." Macross laughed, pushing out his chest only to slump over when his stinging abs reminded him of the hard work ahead. Vulcurion smiled, massaging his tense arm and stretching his legs.

"All in time, Macross. The Keiseer chooses their successor. Besides, we're training to become Shiivi-cova."

"Says you. Strength to overpower your foes is all that matters, as Shiivi-cova or as Keiseer. There will be changes when the Keiseer chooses me."

"Macross, you're speaking as though the honor of Keiseer is nothing more than a kludge to lord over the people. Keiseer is our Trothar-cuin, not a tool for conquest."

"Vulcurion, listen to yourself. You're speaking like you'd rather be seated in the Council of Ten, using words rather than actions. Words mean nothing in the heat of battle." Vucurion lowered his brow, realizing he'd heard similar speeches of passion and zeal.

"You've been attending the Vutha Vargach again, haven't you?" he scolded as Macross looked away, more so in agitation rather than shame.

"Macross, you know that faction goes against everything the Keiseer stands for, not to mention that it's just a group of tavern brawlers interested in seeing who is the strongest," Vulcurion said. Macross pushed him away.

"And what would you know of strength? You've been too busy learning how to delegate between the humans and the Dracova. We are better than them, Vulcurion! Where is your draconic pride?! We do not need to exist with them ; they must exist with us ! Humans only understand force. Keiseer is the best way to do that. Don't you remember the Dra-tiichi's Lessons?"

"I remember the lessons well, Macross. But you're treading a dangerous path." Vulcurion warned.

"Are you saying I should forgive the humans for their crimes against us?! If the Keiseer was truly Trothar-cuin, and the Dracova still had their fire, those humans never would have-" Macross stopped himself, clenching his hand, the leather of his glove cracking under his grip.

"The Keiseer isn't a god, Macross. Their sight may reach far, but they can't be everywhere."

"In my hands, Keiseer will be," Macross growled, sheathing his large sword over his back.

"You and the Dracova have become weak! I will restore both to their former glory with the power of the Keiseer." Macross snapped, walking to the great hall where everyone would gather to hear of their training's completion. Vulcurion let out a heavy sigh and left for his barracks for a short rest and to clean his armor. Macross always kept an almost violent zeal for the pride of the Dracova, even as a child. Vulcurion tried to piece together what drove his friend, though all he learned only pointed toward Macross having to move to Pantheon from Usoria. The history of the Keiseer resonated with Macross, driving him to the peak of physical strength and speed. But the history of the Dracova happened well over 5 millennia ago, and the battles for survival had since lessened to a tense peace, tolerating one another for the mutual benefit of trade. There were some on both sides that still harbored resentment.

Becoming an ambassador for Pantheon to Usoria was Vulcrion's dream, hoping to mend the wounds between Humans and Dracova and that they could coexist. It would be a long road, but with the wisdom and guidance of the Counsel of Ten, Vulcurion hoped it wouldn't take decades.


"We now celebrate those who have completed their training as Shiivi-cova under the Dra-tiichi and Caex Ankin. I am sure that out of this generation-" Before the general could complete his sentence, he saw the Keiseer hovering at the back of the Great Hall. Each wing beat kicked up dust until he landed and began walking with heavy steps to the front, where the General bowed and backed away from the podium. The voice that greeted them from within the Dragon Head helm wasn't that of a powerful man but rather an authoritative woman.

"Dracova; there comes a time when I must pass my power to another. The First Keiseer gave me the premonition that from these Shiivi-cova, I would choose the one worthy of being Keiseer. Come forward, that I may see your faces." The trainees stood in a perfectly straight line without a second to waste. Macross stood proudly, fighting against his body's pain to ensure he looked the part, unlike Vulcurion, who stood next to him at attention.

" It is an honor to be chosen as the next Keiseer…" Macross thought, already planning what he was going to say, convinced he would be the next Keiseer. Vulcurion leaned forward and looked down the line, watching the Keiseer scan the faces of each Shiivi-cova. The shadow of the helm hid her fierce hunter's eyes. As she neared, Vulcurion heard the Keiseer chuckle under her breath, kneeling and placing her sword on the floor.

"And what is your name, little one?" She asked, placing a hand on the young one's head and ruffling his hair. Vulcurion leaned forward to see a young one standing in front of the graduates, a small stick in hand. His horns barely peeked through his hair, and his wings were still too small to fly.

"Ketia." He said with an energetic shout, making the entire hall chuckle. The Keiseer nodded, holding out her hand for him to shake.

"Well, Ketia, it's a pleasure to meet you. And what are you doing here?"

"I'm here to be the next Keiseer!" the youngling said with conviction. Vucurion looked at the Keiseer, imagining her grinning at this young one's enthusiasm.

"I see. Do you want to know a little secret?" she asked. The young one nodded eagerly as The Kasieer leaned down and whispered something. The young one smiled, swinging back and forth as an embarrassed smile grew across his face, making Vulcurion smile. He was abruptly brought back to his position when The Keiseer turned to face him, her glowing eyes appearing in the shadows of her helm. Vulcurion turned his eyes forward and stood to attention as The Kasieer approached him.

"And what would your name be?" she asked. Vulcurion's throat became dry and his palms sweaty, but he managed to gain his composure and answer her.

"Vulcurion, my name is Vulcurion, Pliso-Keiseer." He answered.

"Is this your friend here next to you?" She asked, holding her hand out as though motioning to Macross.

"Yes, I am Pliso-Keiseer." Macross replied proudly. The Keiseer turned to him momentarily, narrowing her eyes as though she were disconcerted, before turning her attention back to Vulcurion.

"And what is his name?" She asked as Macross began speaking once again.

"My name is-" He abruptly stopped when The Keiseer glared at him.

"I am speaking to Vulcurion, drot. You will answer my questions when I speak to you." The Keiseer scolded, turning her attention once again to Vulcurion.

"His name is Macross, Pliso-Keiseer." The Keiseer nodded and turned her attention to Macross.

"Now, Macross: how long have you known Vulcurion?"

"I've known him since we were young ones, Pliso-Keiseer."

"I see, and are you stronger than Vulcurion? From what I understand, both of you are equally powerful."

"Vulcurion prefers to use words to win his battles, but in brute strength, you need to look no further than the one you see before you." The Keiseer tilted her head as she turned back to Vulcurion.

"Tell me, what does The Keiseer mean to you?" She asked.

"The Keiseer is our symbol of hope, the one we can rely on to be our Trothar-cuin and a source of strength. The Keiseer is the one that protects the Dracova of Pantheon. The Dracova draw strength from that to protect the ones they love until everyone is protected, down to the youngest." The Keiseer nodded her head and turned back to Macross.

"And to you, what does The Keiseer stand for?"

"As a pillar, one who will obliterate the enemies that would harm the Dracova, to instruct them as a higher power than the Council of Ten." The Keiseer nodded to his response and walked further down the line, looking at each Shiivi-cova, periodically asking a question. Ultimately, she returned to Macross and Vulcurion, holding up her sword as she stood between them, her eyes disappearing in the shadow of her helm.

"Keiseer, guide mine sword." She whispered before resting it on Vulcurion's shoulder. Opening her eyes, she then turned the sword handle first to him. Macross's eyes widened, his pupils narrowing to slits as his anger boiled.

"How can you choose him?! He is weak!" Macross shouted, drawing his sword as he pushed students away and turned to The Kasieer.

"Being chosen as the Trothar-cuin requires much more than brute strength, Macross. While there is no doubt of your strength, The Kasieer is not simply a cudgel to beat the Dracova into submission or to obliterate your enemies. The Keiseer is someone whose decisions must be carefully weighed, as their actions will show the world what kind of people we are." Macross grit his teeth, the grip around his sword tightening.

"I CANNOT ACCEPT THIS!" Macross thundered, widening his stance and raising his sword to the ready. Vulcurion stepped to his friend.

"Macross, please. Lower your blade. What would attacking accomplish except spill innocent blood?"

"Talk, talk, Talk, TALK! All you do is talk when you should act!" Macross shrieked, driving his sword at Vulcurion. The Keiseer grabbed her sword, pushed Vulcurion away, and threw Macross to the ground, knocking his sword out of his hand. It stuck into the granite floor with a hard clang, too far out of his reach.

"Your objection is noted, Macross. But your actions solidify what I have been trying to tell you. You would lead us to ruin." Macross looked from Keiseer to Vulcurion, pursing his brow hard as he got up and ran for his sword.

"If this is what the Dracova have become, then I cannot live among you. You're all weak! I will show you the lost strength of the Dracova and raise The Keiseer to what it truly is!" He shouted, disappearing through one of the stained-glass windows. Vulcurion tried to pursue, but The Keiseer stopped him with an iron grip.

"There is no reasoning with him now, Vulcurion. He will return one day; you must be ready to do the unthinkable. Come, your training begins now." The Keiseer sighed, laying her sword in his hands. Vulcurion sighed as he looked down at the massive polished red blade: is this what it truly meant to be Trothar-cuin?

Yeso's training kept Vulcurion busy enough to almost forget about his best friend. Macross had since gone missing from Pantheon, and when his training left him enough energy, Vulcurion would search for him, often straining his wings late into the night. On this particular night, Yeso met him on the roof of the training barracks.

"He's lost to us, you know that, don't you?" she asked mournfully. Vulcurion said nothing for a while, staring at the silvery moon hanging low over the horizon.

"I refuse to believe that. Macross can be-"

"There is no bringing him back. He is set in his ways, and you will not change his mind," Yeso said sternly, reaching up and removing her helmet. With a gentle red glow, the armor of the Keiseer faded away, revealing Yeso as she truly appeared; her fire reddish-orange hair flowed in the breeze as her armor reverted to a simpler green plate-mail. Her left eye shone like a ruby, a small remnant of her draconic heritage, but her right eye was hazy and scared, the color seemly drained away from it.

"My grandfather was The Keiseer before me. He was the Dra-tiichi who taught you all the lessons as Young Ones. My two older sisters served as Shiivi-cova for many years, gaining ranks and becoming well-known by the commanders and generals. But when I, a common Dracova, was chosen to be The Keiseer instead of my sisters, they turned against me. My oldest sister even tried to assassinate me that night, giving me these." Yeso turned slightly, pointing to the scars and revealing her right eye to be blind.

"My grandfather tried talking to them. But no amount of talking would sway them; they convinced themselves that either was the only genuine worthy candidate to become The Keiseer. To this day, they still will not speak to me." Vulcurion sighed, drooping his wings as he looked out over Pantheon. A man's far-away scream cut through the night, followed by others as they were abruptly cut short.

"That came from the council's chamber," Yeso commented, her armor returning in a flash of light as she and Vulcurion flew toward the noise. Yeso outran Vulcurion, arriving at the chamber within moments. Over the minute it took Vulcurion to come, he could still hear Dracova killed amidst the sounds of clanging blades. When Vulcurion landed, the sight before him made his heart freeze; blood painted the floor and streaked the walls soaking into the clothes of the slaughtered council members. He felt dizzy as rage began to overtake him, his fangs creaking and his eyes widening. Fire billowed from around his hands as he drew his sword and charged at the assailant The Keiseer battled.

"Vulcurion! NO!" She commanded. But his charge caught the man, pinning him to the wall and cracking the granite blocks making up the chamber. To Vulcurion's horror, he saw Macross grinning wildly over the polished edge of his friend's sword against his throat.

"If this is what it took to use your full strength, I would have done it ages ago!" Macross seethed.

"Why did you kill the council?!" Vulcurion demanded.

"Why? WHY?! The council brought nothing but weakness to the Dracova! The Drakin laugh at us! Our draconic heritage melts away with each decade. I will make us strong again! The Council was holding us back!"

"This is not the way, Macross!"

"THIS IS THE ONLY WAY! I have the strength to see my future through. Do you have the strength to ensure yours?" Vulcurion could only sneer at him, holding himself back from pushing the edge of his sword through Macross's throat. The Keiseer grabbed his forearm firmly, shaking her head once Vulcuron looked back.

"Put your sword down. Do not take this path. Not like this," The Keiseer instructed, gently pulling his sword arm down and guiding him away from Macross. Before Macross could react, The Keiseer pressed him to the wall, a low thrum billowing from her throat. Macross was thrown into a stable tied with solid ropes and chains while Vulcurion, The Keiseer, and some nearby Shiivi-cova cleaned the blood from the chamber until morning.

When the sun rose, it was ironically the color of blood, lighting the room with its firey glow. The Shiivi-cova dragged Macross before the King and Queen to answer for his brutal actions. His only answer was the words he had howled to Vulcurion, preaching how he would return strength to the Dracova. The king sighed heavily, his fists balling and his body shivering until he bellowed that Macross was banished, never to be looked upon by any Dracova from that day forward, no matter how human. The Shiivi-cova then drug the writhing Macross through the city and across the great bridge connecting Pantheon to Usoria, tying him to a tree with his chains and ropes and tossing him down the road. Vulcurion stayed as long as The Keiseer allowed, walking with slow, heavy steps, listening to the wrathful screams of Macross fading behind him.

" I'm sorry Macross…" he thought, swearing that he could hear Yeso's breath quiver as well.


Macross screamed until he began to bellow blood, struggling to loosen the ropes around him as dirt and twigs raked across his face. When his energy was finally spent, he buried his face in the grass and wept. Only now did the weight of his banishment hit him. As a youngling, the only family he had was his mother. His father died when rogue humans raided their small Dracova settlement.

He could still see the knife lodged in his father's back, just as Keiseer Yeso swooped in and dealt with the humans. Despite the healing powers of the Keiseer, his father still died. At the Keiseer's behest, the settlement moved back to Pantheon, where he met his lifelong friend, Vulcurion. From the day he learned of the Dracova's history and the origin of the Keiseer, Macross vowed that he would become The Keiseer and be better than she was so that no one would lose another loved one again, even if it meant conquest or mass execution.

As he lay there, he heard footsteps nearing him: they sounded light, like a human female's. And there was another human with her. They, too, were light but wider: perhaps it was a human male? And then there were the heavy steps of a quadruped: a horse, maybe? No, these were too heavy for a horse, even a large one.

"Oh my, what have we here?" the woman's voice said, almost mockingly. Macross clenched his jaw, his body tensing as he felt the chains and rope loosen from around his body. Tilting his vision slightly, he could see the woman's long, blood-red hair, instantly making him think of The Keiseer's armor. With a growl, he bolted from his bindings, grabbing the woman's arms and pinning her to a tree. Her sick green eyes looked surprised but excited as if the action had pleased her.

"You're a strong one." She said in sensuous awe, her cheeks seeming to blush.

"Release Hilda, or face me." the man said, the sounds of a spell humming to life behind Macross. He turned to see an older man, a giant cobra coiled behind him, and a large skeleton dog bull standing to one side.

"Who are you?" Macross demanded, his scratchy voice no more than a hiss.

"I am Arkarium, Master of Dark Alchemy and Earl of Destruction, and the woman you hold is Hilda, The Reaper of Azwan. Who are you?" the man answered. Macross set Hilda down, squaring his shoulders and holding his wings wide.

"Mac… I am Magnus, Drarytiss-cuin of the Dracova."