Maretropolis

Torch ruled over a dozen different regions, and he displayed the vast wealth of his empire in all its splendor and glory.

Once there had been beautiful gardens around the palace, but the Dragon Lord had razed the trees and leveled most of the shrubberies to create a flat and open vista all around. The openness was the Dragon Lord’s gift to himself. And it provided excellent security as well as the surveillance cameras. Nobody could approach the house undetected. By day visitors were clearly visible at least two hundred yards away, and after dark night-vision and thermal enhancements picked them up only a little closer.

The ground floor had a kitchen, a dining hall, a lounge, a ballroom, a library, a throne room, and a study. The second and third floors had a combined 26 bedrooms and 34 full bathrooms. The top floor was used for nothing except surveillance. All those rooms were completely empty, except one that had four TV screens on a long table, showing wide-angle views North, South, East and West.

The yard had no lawn. It was covered with gold coins, with neatly pruned shrubs and bushes pushing up through them. The front doors were carved multi-paneled things. They had giant iron knockers shaped like dragons’ heads that had the rings hanging from their mouths. The doors opened before they got near them and Spike and Applejack were led inside the house.

It was a fabulous home. Huge and beautifully furnished. The hallway was dark but warm and magnificent. There were oil paintings on the walls, and ahead was a substantial staircase that rose out of sight. There were closed doors all around, each one polished to a shine by a century of labor.

The henchmen, Rex and Amarant, pushed open the heavy doors at the end of the hallway, to the lavishly decorated throne room.

It was a large room with a high ceiling. It had a fireplace and a pair of French doors that led out to the terrace. But the drapes and curtains were all drawn. Very little light inside, except for the roaring fire in the hearth, probably to be reminiscent of the mountain caves the Dragons’ ancestors were accustomed to.

Dark and silent.

There were couches and sofas of silver and gold with red velvet cushions on a mosaic floor of marble, mother-of-pearl, and other costly stones. There was a large Saddle Arabian rug, a massive oak desk. And behind the desk was a colossal royal throne with a tall back, which was facing away from the doors.

But the thing that caught Applejack’s attention was a portrait of a woman, which hung close behind the throne. The woman was beautiful, with long raven hair and sapphire eyes, and she wore a lavish gown. She looked like a fairytale princess. Maybe even a queen.

Spike and Applejack were shoved into the throne room as a big and tall Dragon named Billy entered from a side door. He wore a gamboge suit and had coarse, grayish violet hair that stuck up in all directions even though he kept it cropped short.

“Is that Torch Drago?” Applejack whispered to Spike.

“No,” he whispered back.

A tall, stocky Dragon in a vermilion suit, Barry, lumbered in behind.

“What about him? Is that him?”

“No!” Spike said, frustrated.

A pair of even bigger, taller, and sharper-looking Dragons (one in a scarlet suit, the other in spring green, named Basil and Reginald respectively) showed up, following the others. They had to lower their heads to enter the room.

“Okay, one of those two has got to be him,” Applejack whispered.

“Shut up, shut up, just shut up!” Spike told her.

The red and green-suited Dragons stood on both sides of the throne. Then the throne turned, revealing an even huger Dragon seated upon it. He was wearing an arctic blue three-piece suit made of the finest fabric that money could buy, and holding a cigar between the hulking index and middle fingers of his left hand while holding a scepter in his right.

Applejack stared at the giant hybrid in wide-eyed surprise.

This was the Dragon Lord.

The Dragon Lord was fifty years old, but he still broke arms if he smelled disrespect. He was like an old soldier. He still had all his muscle, his strength and his attitude. He was fifty years old because of his strength and his attitude. Without them he would have died decades ago. And he almost did, too.

There had been an assassination attempt on him ten years before. The assassin’s bullet was meant for him. But it hit his wife instead.

That was the kind of man that he was. The kind of man who made a fortress out of his own home. The kind of man whose wife was killed just because she stood next to him. The kind of man who spread misery to everything he touched.

A bad man made worse by his own life experiences. Whose suffering had conferred very little grace and nobility. But the Dragon Lord had survived. He survived by fighting and clawing his way to the top, by betraying those stronger than himself and dominating those weaker. And he had learned what worked once always worked.

Spike opened his mouth to speak and the giant Dragon Lord growled as he held out his scepter. Spike approached and touched the tip of the bloodstone, then quickly stepped back.

“Is it too late to apologize and beg for my life?” Spike asked.

Torch growled again.

“You come here, unannounced on the day my daughter is to take my place as the new Dragon Lord,”

Torch’s deep, guttural voice had an authoritative tone to it, and it sounded like one would expect from a man of his muscular stature: very, very intimidating.

“Well, technically, we were brought here against our will, so...” Spike began.

Torch frowned as he stared at Spike with cold red eyes.

He was not amused.

“Look, the point is, I didn’t know that it was your car, and I swear I didn’t know that Ember was going to take your place,”

“I can’t believe I ever trusted you, Spike,” Torch said. “I was there the day you were born. When your mother died, my beloved continued to nurse you.”

The Dragon in the scarlet suit, Basil, crossed himself as the Dragon Lord motioned to the portrait Applejack had noticed earlier.

The woman was Torch’s late wife.

“I welcomed you into my home,” said Torch. “I gave you the food of my table. I loved you like the son I never had. Even before your father died, I loved you as if you were my own. I watched you grow. I even gave you my blessing to marry my daughter. My only child.”

Spike held his head in shame.

“And how do you repay my kindness and generosity? By breaking my daughter’s heart, by leaving her at the altar... twice. You disrespected me... and you hurt her,”

Spike remained silent.

“I ordered you to never show your face around here again, and yet here you stand, skulking around my property with this... I’m sorry, but what are you, some kind of performer?” Torch asked Applejack. “What’s with the stupid costume?”

“Sir,” Applejack stated, “I am--”

“No one!” Spike said quickly. “She’s no one!”

Applejack had had enough. She marched up to Torch’s desk and glared him right in the eye. Basil and Reginald moved to restrain her and protect their employer, but Torch motioned for them to stand down.

“I am an officer of the law! I am on the Stratus Shy case, and my evidence puts him in your car!” she shouted at the Dragon Lord. “And so help me, I will find out what you did to that man if it is the last thing I do!”

The Dragon Lord grunted.

“Then I have only one request,” he replied calmly. “Say hello to my beloved for me. Ice ‘em!” he shouted to his men.

Basil and Reginald grabbed Applejack while Rex and Amarant restrained Spike.

“Whoa!” Spike exclaimed. “I didn’t say anything! I’m not saying anything!”

“And you never will,” Torch replied.

Billy and Barry opened a hatch to a pit in the floor in front of Torch’s desk. Basil and Reginald held Spike and Applejack over the pit, ready to throw them down into the freezing ice and water below.

“Please! No, no, no!” Spike cried, pleading for his life. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

Just then Torch’s daughter, Ember, entered the throne room. She was tiny compared to her father, and she was wearing a beautiful gown made of gold thread.

“Dad!” she called.

Torch growled and rolled his eyes.

Applejack recognized Ember immediately. She was the blue-haired she-dragon that she had saved from being crushed.

Ember noticed Spike and Applejack and sighed, clearly annoyed.

“What did we say? No icing anyone on my coronation day!”

“I have to, Ember,” Torch told her. “Your Father has to.” He returned his attention to Spike and Applejack. “Ice them!”

Spike started screaming again.

“Wait! Wait!” Ember shouted. “I know her. She’s the officer that saved my life yesterday! From that giant donut!”

“This human?” Torch asked.

“Yes!” She turned to Applejack. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she replied. “I love your dress.”

“Uh... thanks?”

“This changes things,” Torch thought.

“Put them down,” he said.

Billy and Barry covered the hole in the floor as Basil and Reginald gently released Spike and Applejack.

“You have done me a great service,” Torch said to Applejack as he rose from his throne and walked around his desk. “I will help you find our mutual friend. I will take your honesty and kindness and pay it forward.”

Torch kissed Applejack on both cheeks as Spike’s mouth fell open in astonishment.

Photo Finish took pictures of the Dragon Lord and his daughter while their subjects danced, watched in dutiful reverence by their black-suited bodyguards.

Wine was served in goblets of gold, each one different from the other, and the wine was abundant. By the Dragon Lord’s command, each guest was allowed to drink with no restrictions, for the Dragon Lord instructed all of the wine stewards to serve each Dragon what he, or she, wished.

Spike and Applejack sat at the head table, next to Torch, and a waiter in a pink vest and dapper bowtie served them pieces of iced cake.

Spike picked up his fork and took a bite.

It was perfect.

Torch turned to Applejack and said, “Mr. and Mrs. Shy are my florists. They’re like family to me. Stratus said he had something important he wanted to discuss. Something that couldn’t be talked about over the phone. That’s why I sent that car to pick him up. But it never arrived.”

“Because he was attacked,” Applejack assumed.

“No,” Torch corrected her. “He attacked.”

“Shy?”

“Shy,” Torch stated. “He just went crazy. He tore up the inside of the car, scared the driver half to death... and then disappeared into the night.”

“But he’s over 50-years-old. He’s a husband, a father...”

Torch sighed.

“My dear, we may be evolved, but deep down... we are still animals,”

Spike and Applejack exchanged a worried look.

“You want to find Stratus Shy, talk to the driver of the car. His name is Magnet, Steven Magnet, lives in the Everfree District. Only he can tell you more about what happened that night. Here is his address,” he said as he handed them a business card with Magnet’s information on it.

Spike and Applejack thanked Torch for his hospitality and left the party, happy not to have been thrown into an icy grave. After retrieving the police cart from the limo depot, they headed straight for the lush, dark Everfree District in search of their next clue.