The Grand Marshal, Reginald, woke up to a splitting headache and a body full of soot. The dragon attack had been so unexpected that he barely had any time to put his defences up.
He could hear the nobles groaning in pain, and he could understand them, dragon fire packed a terrible punch.
"Damn it…" he groaned.
What was going on? Why had a dragon spawned out of nowhere?
'Is this part of the undead's plan?'
No, that would make no sense. Reginald could not imagine a single scenario where a dragon would side with those foul creatures…
'Then what is this?' He thought as he stood up from rubble, burned concrete falling off his body.
'Damnation!' He cursed once again.
Did the dragon's singular attack really get him that good? Why was he here debating what was going on instead of sorting out the attack?
It was as though a veil was lifted from his eyes, and that was when he saw the king and prince at the shattered window, already climbing over it.
