What use the spoils of war, when there is no enjoyment in laying waste to another’s lands? No satisfaction in levelling cities; razing homes or churches to the ground, in conflagrations of such immensity, the gods themselves may have set them.

There is no satisfaction, either, in watching the seed of a nation trampled in the dust; the young—and not so young—men trading their futures at the ends of our swords. The unnecessary ruination of a people fighting in defence of their cowardly king. And for what? A mythical promise of eternal life in some heavenly utopia at the home of their own heathen gods?

There is no compassion, nor regret, when taking, or enjoying, the fruits of your labours; the jewels, the gold… the women. All are unceremoniously bundled onto carts, and then ships, making their way to a new home to be distributed among the triumphant warlords and their generals. They are merely trinkets to satisfy the egos of the unsatisfiable… or the simple.

For myself, however, my interest was on one thing, and one thing only; the Dragon Chest. I have jewels. I have gold. I need not the ravaged, humiliated remains of despoiled female slaves, for I have enough of those already. No, it was the chest, and its mysterious contents, that occupied my mind.

For centuries, the contents of this legendary box have driven lesser men to murder; to invasion and genocide; to the point of madness. Many have owned the chest, but none have had the courage to open it. But I am not ‘lesser men’. I am of a stronger mind, not easily swayed by the promises of neither trivial wealth, nor infamy. What others think of me is irrelevant.

It has cost much, to bring this casket to me. I have laid waste to three kingdoms now, each of them defiant to the point of their own ruin. That is upon them. I warned them, but they did not listen; did not reveal where I would find the prize I seek. These lesser kings chose death and disgrace, the slaughter of their peoples, over pragmatic surrender. How foolish they seem, protecting a treasure they had no use for. Guarding—hiding, even—a prize so revered, they feared it; feared its contents being revealed to the world.

Finding this chest has driven me all these years. It has been my obsession, my destiny, and now, finally having it here, open before me, I realise it is nothing more than my doom. Be careful what you wish for.