The dragon squeezes its eyes shut, as if this sudden flood of words is too much for it. Dragons live at a different pace than humans; speeding itself up to their brief, fragile flickers of life is exhausting even when dead.

So little you know of history. You wish peace? Assume your proper position now, then. Pledge your body and soul to service of dragonkind. Serve me and all our kind. You humans call it 'slavery', and welcome it not as a rule. Has that changed, in the years I have slept in death? Do you Sundered accede to your subservient place, will you allow dragonkind to reclaim you without quarrel?