The Titan Continent. The Great Bastion of the East.
"Here you go, brother—the little street rat." Up on the Bastion Wall, Leonidas held out a purple-gold dragonling, wrenched up by the scruff like a chick, the little thing thrashing hard in his grip, right in front of Orion.
"My name's not street rat. I'm the noble Purple-Gold Divine Dragon—Scamp Lahaire!"
Orion looked the dragonling over. So this was his second student. Why did the little thing have the same edgelord streak as his father?
"Brother, the street rat's yours now. Long as you don't kill him, beat him, curse him, whatever—if he won't listen, take this to him." Leonidas held out a bone rod, ground from one of his own dragon bones, with a bloodline-suppressing pull on Scamp.
Street rat? Father King? Scamp Lahaire? Orion's expression turned subtle. The little thing had inherited the name Lahaire—looked like Leonidas set real store by the boy.
