The Saracen soldiers hiding in the gatehouse, along with the fire jars and piles of stones in their hands, were reduced to ashes in the blaze.
A city gate that would have required several battering rams and hundreds of elite soldiers thrown into a meat grinder to capture was so easily consigned to flames.
Cruel light gleamed in the six eyes of the three-headed draconic beast. The thrill of destruction fascinated it immensely. Its fang-filled maw opened, and another breath of dragonfire began to gather.
Poison, curses, flames—any one of the three dragon breaths could easily kill hundreds.
"Enough, Mr. Ladon."
A gentle voice, like warm winter sunlight, sounded behind the draconic beast's neck. Though the voice carried little menace, Ladon still shuddered involuntarily.
Because a longsword brimming with powerful spirituality was already pressed against the most vulnerable scales on its neck.
Behind its neck, the Candle Knight in the fallow deer hood said softly, "That is enough. Do not forget the captain's orders. Your objective is limited to destroying this gate and extinguishing the dragonfire still burning."
The draconic beast was exceedingly ferocious. If they wanted it to obey in battle as readily as an arm obeyed a hand, Lothar had to control it personally. Otherwise, it would certainly cause trouble.
Back when Lothar had been Constantine XI, he had witnessed Ladon fly into a savage frenzy, indiscriminately attacking enemies and allies alike, soldiers and civilians alike.
It was not human, and naturally would not be judged by morality.
Burning down a town meant no more to it than crushing an anthill meant to a human.
"All right, it is time for us to go back."
The Cursed Dragon Head was the most steady-tempered. All three knew exactly what terrifying power lay within the seemingly delicate female knight, and