Lord of the Rings: Warriors

"Descend! Lower altitude! Do not engage dragon riders in high-altitude combat!" The leading Dragonhawk Rider remained composed.

No aerial cavalry could match dragon riders in the skies—only another dragon rider could restrict them in aerial warfare!

Boom! A monstrous dragon, tearing through the air at terrifying speed, created a sonic boom as its massive wings stirred up the sky.

It dived directly into the formation of Dragonhawk Riders.

Panic-stricken, they scattered immediately.

But it was clear that Caslow was merely intimidating them; otherwise, that charge alone could have shredded at least four of them along with their mounts.

"Scatter! Run for your lives!" The Dragonhawk Riders cried out in dismay. Their formation had been completely broken, leaving them powerless to resist.

Now, with air superiority firmly in the hands of the dragon riders, the latter could effortlessly pick them off using their massive dragon bows, firing down upon these foolhardy challengers below.

"Who are you, and why have you trespassed into our airspace?" Caslow asked, though he already knew the answer.

To the dwarven Dragonhawk Riders, hearing this voice was akin to hearing the songs of the heavens!

As long as the dragon rider was willing to talk, there was room for negotiation.

At worst, they could pay their way out of trouble—after all, dwarves were as famous for their wealth as they were for their stubbornness.

"Respected Dragon Rider, we are Dragonhawk Riders of the dwarves from the Blue Mountains! We are on our way to pledge allegiance to the King Under the Mountain.

Please forgive us for this unintended trespass…" one of the dwarves pleaded, clearly humbled.

There was no helping it—against wyverns, they might have stood a chance. But in the face of a true dragon, they could only submit.

"Land!" Caslow commanded. With a mighty breath, his dragon, Caldo, unleashed a torrent of wind-laced dragonfire, clearing a space below in an instant.

"Understood, sir." The dwarves hastily guided their now-terrified Dragonhawks to the designated clearing, landing obediently.

Boom! The enormous weight of Caldo's massive body crushed the ground beneath it, flattening grass and flowers alike. Caslow dismounted, his dragon lance in hand.

Thud! The dragon lance was thrust into the earth, burying nearly half its length into the ground.

"Now then, how do you intend to resolve this situation? Loshanier City across the river was thrown into chaos because of you! They fled in terror, and we prepared for war.

As aerial cavalry, do you not understand the principles of engagement?"

Caslow's face was stern, his voice filled with reproach. Everyone had been terrified by the sudden wave of dragon cries, himself included.

Though it turned out to be a misunderstanding, the Kingdom of Zaltarion and the Kingdom of Aquavia would not let this slide.

These two nations had been on the brink of a war that could end in mutual destruction.

"We sincerely apologize for the disturbance. We dwarves are willing to compensate for any trouble we caused. I am Yade, the leader of this unit.

Respected Dragon Rider, may I have the honor of knowing your name?" Yade humbly asked.

"I am Caslow, a dragon rider of the Zaltarion Kingdom! You can have Thorin come here and claim his people!" Caslow responded coldly.

"And my men…?" Yade asked hesitantly.

"They stay with me! Let Thorin come and explain himself! A squad of Dragonhawks flying through the sky unannounced? What were you trying to do? Declare war?!" Caslow roared.

The dwarves, honest to a fault and aware of their mistake, could only bow their heads and endure his wrath.

They were so eager to return to their homeland that they hadn't considered the sheer terror their unannounced flight would cause among the towns and cities below.

"Uh… fine. I will relay this to my king… I shall take my leave." Yade reluctantly turned back multiple times, glancing at his comrades before finally mounting his Dragonhawk and fleeing Caslow's suffocating presence.

"What's going on here?" The sound of galloping hooves echoed as Rynar arrived with the knights of the Holy Radiance Order.

The Knights of the Crossed Purple Jasmine, however, refused to integrate into the Holy Radiance Order.

They still proudly carried their banner, the last remnant of the once-mighty Duchy of Nyx.

Aside from that flag, there was nothing left to prove that their small yet resilient homeland had ever existed.

"Them!" Caslow grumbled, gesturing toward the dwarves and their Dragonhawks with a flick of his dragon lance.

His action startled the dwarves, who yelped and raised their weapons defensively, assuming Caslow was about to execute them.

"Dwarves? Dragonhawk Riders?

These things aren't extinct yet?" Rynar remarked, eyeing the creatures with curiosity. Dragonhawks had the sleek heads of wyverns but the bodies of massive eagles.

They possessed some magical abilities, and while they lacked the destructive power of Draconic magic, they were still considered formidable high-tier beasts.

Among the dragon-blooded creatures, they were among those with relatively pure lineage.

"Apparently not. It's a miracle that the dwarves managed to preserve Dragonhawks!" Caslow admitted in awe.

Most assumed the dwarves only had their hardy Ram Riders left, but few knew they had kept Dragonhawks in secret.

"Alright, dwarven friends, I have to ask—how many Dragonhawks do you still have?" Rynar inquired, intrigued.

Life always found a way. Whether it was the once-thought-extinct Demon Wyverns or these Dragonhawks, creatures had a way of surviving when the world least expected it.

"What do you want?! The Dragonhawks will not be handed over!

Dwarven Dragonhawk Riders can die in battle, but we will never betray our companions! Not even a god could make us!"

The dwarves bristled immediately, standing taller than they had a moment ago.

Even those who had been cowering in fear of the dragon rider now gripped their weapons tightly, standing back-to-back with their Dragonhawks as they glared at the Zaltarion soldiers.

"Whoa, relax! Why the overreaction?!" Rynar recoiled, baffled. Anyone watching would have thought he was about to rob them.

"Calm down, I was just curious…" Rynar sighed.

Dwarves could be unbelievably stubborn, and given their past hardships, it was understandable that they were protective of what little they had left.

"Not many. There are 13 here, plus the one I let go—so, 14 in total. If you count those kept for breeding, probably just over 20."

Caslow whispered to Rynar. Dragon-blooded creatures were already rare, and Dragonhawks, once thought extinct, were even rarer.

"Wait, you let one go? What do you mean?" Rynar caught onto Caslow's wording.

"Exactly that. These are the ones I held back—I let their leader go so Thorin can come explain himself. Take a look at Loshanier City across the river.

People were running through the plains in a frenzy! The whole kingdom was thrown into chaos. The economic and logistical damages alone are catastrophic.

How could I just let them go scot-free?" Caslow said grimly, casting a cold glance at the Dragonhawks pinned to the ground by his dragon's oppressive presence.

"That… actually makes sense. White Wing's losses must be substantial…" Rynar mused.

The sheer number of people trampling over one another in panic was enough of a disaster, not to mention the material losses.

"Stay put and wait for Thorin. Just because you're riding dragon-blooded creatures doesn't mean you own the skies!

Even I tread carefully in some airspaces—what made you think you could just barge in?!" Caslow shook his head in disbelief.

They should be grateful they hadn't flown into a wyvern nest, or else they'd have been torn apart.

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