The Sun Empress's private study overlooked the capital with panoramic windows that caught the dying light of sunset, transforming the room into a sanctuary of golden warmth. Maps and strategic documents covered every available surface, but the two women who stood before the great window were focused on challenges that couldn't be solved through conventional planning.

Elara Va Ironblade set down her latest intelligence reports with the careful precision of someone handling dangerous materials. "We don't even know where their nests are, Mari. How do you negotiate with beings who see us as insects?"

The harsh reality of their military situation hung between them like a blade waiting to fall. "If war begins, our only advantage is defensive positioning. In open combat..." Elara paused, remembering the casual ease with which the true dragon had erased the undead dragon. "Even our combined divine blessing couldn't stop a true dragon in direct confrontation."

The Sun Empress turned from the window, and for a moment Elara caught a glimpse of something that hadn't been there before her transformation, an awareness that existed on multiple levels simultaneously, as if she were perceiving conversations happening across dimensional boundaries.

"Then what do you propose?" the Empress asked, her voice carrying harmonics that made the question feel like it was being asked by someone who had seen the birth and death of stars. "We cannot simply surrender to fear, regardless of the forces involved."

Elara felt the familiar chill that came from recognizing how much her childhood friend had changed. They were still partners, still family in a way, but the divine transformation had introduced elements that reminded her they were no longer operating on purely human scales.

"We prepare for the worst while hoping for diplomacy," Elara replied with strategic honesty. "But Mari, we both saw what the dragon could do with casual frustration. His skyward blast was visible from neighboring kingdoms, and that was him holding back."

The weight of empire-shaking threats settled over both women like a suffocating blanket. They had faced demons, survived political conspiracies, even channeled divine power together. But true dragons represented forces that operated beyond anything their experience had prepared them for.

"I've been thinking about our options," Elara continued, her strategic mind working through scenarios that all led to unpalatable conclusions. "And I believe there's only one course of action that makes sense."

The Sun Empress's eyebrows rose at the determination in Elara's voice. "What are you proposing?"

"I want to step down from Lysora County leadership."

The words hit the private study like a thunderclap. The Empress stared at her friend with undisguised shock, divine perception analyzing the statement from multiple angles before responding.

"After everything we've just discussed?" the Empress said, her voice carrying disbelief that transcended normal human emotion. "Elara, your strategic mind is irreplaceable. If we face war with dragons, I need leaders who can think beyond conventional limitations."

But Elara had clearly thought this through with characteristic thoroughness. "Mariana is ready. She's been handling county administration while I was investigating the demons, and with Salomonis as her adviser, she'll excel at territorial management."

The Empress's divine-touched gaze seemed to peer through Elara's words to the motivations beneath. "That's the practical justification. What's the real reason?"

Elara met her friend's otherworldly stare with the unflinching directness that had made her a legendary strategist. "I think there's more happening than coordinated attacks on imperial stability. The friction between humans and dragons feels... orchestrated. Someone is planning something catastrophic, and we need people free to investigate without the constraints of territorial responsibility."

The philosophical divide between them became clear as they articulated their different approaches to the looming crisis. Elara's voice carried the conviction of someone who had faced death and chosen action over paralysis.

"Better to charge with horns than wait like sitting ducks. If we're going to face annihilation, let it be while moving forward, gathering intelligence, disrupting enemy plans before they reach fruition."

The Empress's protective instincts warred with her strategic understanding. "But what if I need you to protect our people? Our shared blessing might be the only thing standing between the empire and destruction."

"And what good is that blessing if we're always reactive?" Elara countered with characteristic intensity. "We saw what happened when we waited for threats to come to us. Demons infiltrated our highest levels, orchestrated conflicts, manipulated us into positions of weakness. Someone out there is playing a game that spans years, possibly decades. We need to start playing offense."

Both women understood this wasn't just about county leadership, it was about preparing for a war they might not survive, fought against enemies who operated on scales beyond normal human comprehension.

The shared memory hung between them: their last encounter with true dragons, the overwhelming sense of powerlessness despite wielding divine authority. Even the Empress's transformation had limits when faced with such-level threats, and they both knew it.

Finally, the Empress nodded with the weight of someone making decisions that would echo through history. "Sometimes the best defense requires offensive intelligence. If you're certain about Mariana's readiness..."

"She has the heart for it," Elara confirmed. "And more importantly, she has the vision to see beyond immediate crises to long-term stability."

The decision crystallized with the finality of strategic necessity. Elara would step down, would become the empire's hunter in shadows, pursuing threats that conventional military structure couldn't address.

****

General Hilton De Gror's quarters in the Sun Palace reflected the practical needs of a career military officer weapons, strategic texts, and comfortable furniture arranged for both efficiency and relaxation. Marvel had taken residence in the adjoining chamber, their long friendship making shared accommodations feel natural despite their different ranks.

Evening light filtered through practical windows as Hilton reviewed the day's intelligence reports, his weathered features showing the satisfaction of someone whose strategic assessments had proven accurate.

"Marvel, my friend," Hilton said without looking up from his documents, "David's journey to Lysora couldn't have been coincidence."

Marvel, organizing his own notes from the war council, chose his words with diplomatic precision. "Young master showed remarkable... initiative in seeking out the Archon during the crisis."

Hilton's knowing look carried the weight of paternal pride mixed with strategic understanding. "Initiative. Yes, that's one way to put it." His voice held genuine admiration rather than mere relief. "Tell me, what connections do you think he made there?"