<strong>”Ah Ichiro, always playing the fool.  If there weren't more pressing concerns...”</strong>Piren allowed the statement to trail off, though his own thoughts went to ways to counter and contain the possible threat, perhaps even win his wayward sibling over to his side.  He followed along as well as he could, but Hurklin was still too young to carry a rider, barely out of its infancy.  Hurklin, however, immediately realized the challenge placed before him by the elder dragon and eager to prove the genius of his master and, in many ways, father figure, gave chase after Ancalrung.  Hurklin did not have to take flight, though her could have, instead he dashed forward on all four limbs, easily keeping pace with the elder dragon.  The musculature was disturbingly easy to see beneath Hurklin's scales, in those spots where his bony armor had yet to completely conceal his natural armor, and Hurklin was clearly well developed, even for a dragon.  It made a sort of twisted sense, since Piren had deprived his bonded dragon of the most fearsome weapon most dragons possess, that Hurklin would have to be stronger and more physically intimidating than most other dragons.  In a few centuries, Ancalrung could already tell, Hurklin would most likely be one of the largest dragons in history, and those additional layers of armor, which seemed to not slow Hurklin in the least, would give him further advantages.<br/><br/>Piren does not rush himself, but neither does he go at a leisurely pace.  He trails behind quite a bit, but his knowledge of the city's geography was one of the innumerable bits of information readily accessible to his own altered mind.  Perhaps that is part of the reasoning behind Piren's lack of shame in altering other beings, he himself was beyond what genetics alone would have granted him.  He arrived in time to hear Ancalrung's barb, though, and a wry smirk played across his lips before he retorted,<strong>”I prize loyalty as the highest of virtues.  Those without loyalty, those without discipline are not fit to serve even as tools.  Fortunately, you remain loyal enough to serve.”</strong><br/><br/>Piren's courage faded briefly as he gazed upon that membrane, the entrance to his father's most intimate domain.  But he hid it well enough, though Ancalrung likely could see through Piren's best attempts, at least none of the citizens foolish enough to pass this way would see the hesitation and the doubt and the deep-seated terror that often plagued Piren as he grew closer to his father.  He could face the worst horrors of war, armies arrayed against him, the terrible magics wrought by the Blessed, but it was here, in the place that should be most home to him, that he truly felt fear.<br/><br/>Before entering, though, he paused to speak a few words to Hurklin, encouragement and praise, before commanding his dragon to join his squadron of winged demons outside of town.  If Piren emerged from the throne room intact, he would likely have little need of his entourage, and Hurklin would be of little use against his father, even if Ancalrung had allowed it.<br/><br/>Piren spoke nothing at Ancalrung's last words.  As terrifying as the dragon was, he was but a fly in comparison to the presence of Azazel.  Piren could only do his best to keep appearances up as he moved forward, coming to kneel before the throne that could not contain the full terror of Azazel's majesty.  Piren bowed his head, collecting his thoughts, before turning his gaze up to meet his father's death mask, his own face a mask of stoic resolve.  His voice, quieter and more tremulous than when he spoke with Ancalrung, sounded in the hall, louder than he had hoped,<strong>”I am here Father.  I did not expect to have the honor of an audience with you so soon.  How may I be of service this day?”</strong>