Two days had passed since white lightning split the sky, and Sorne had become a city transformed by death and providence.
Alaric stood on the balcony of his study, watching the citizens below. People understood they were witnessing a once in a lifetime opportunity. It wasn't everyday you had hundreds of dragons, laying, waiting to be butchered.
The massive corpse of Spiralus dominated the scene like a fallen mountain. Even in death, the ancient dragon commanded respect. People of Sorne were not ones to waste such a gift.
Each scale was worth more than most families earned in a year. Dragon scale armor was prized by knights and nobles across all four human kingdoms.
"My lord," Adrian approached, his armor still bearing scorch marks from the battle. A thick bandage covered the left side of his head where flying debris had caught him.
"The harvest proceeds well. We've collected over three hundred scales so far, and the butchers estimate at least two tons of usable meat."
