The war drums were a slow, heavy heartbeat under the snap of wind-whipped banners. The air itself was a weapon, carrying dust and the scent of death, reaping lives with every gust.
With each swing of his trident, Orion obliterated another high-level dark creature on the ground below.
"Is a trident truly so effective?" Isabella wondered aloud from beside him on the dragon's back. As a dragon knight, her own weapon was a lance, and watching Orion's fluid, deadly efficiency was a revelation.
"Your lance is a duelist's weapon," Orion explained, glancing at her. Now that they were more familiar, the proud young queen's gaze was often bold and appraising. So much for the untouchable ice-queen persona. "It excels at the close-range thrust, the sweep, the parry. In the thick of a melee, fighting blade-to-blade from dragonback, it gives you the advantage."
"My trident is different. I favor the long-range throw. When it leaves my hand, the target is either dead or maimed."
