With the dragon heart secured, Baines stowed the massive corpse of the black dragon in his pocket space.
He and Wick returned to the throne room, the air thick with the stench of death and the metallic tang of blood.
Yill Treyl's body laid crumpled in a corner, his face frozen in a mask of agony, a testament to the torture Ralph had inflicted before ending his life.
The room was now a chaotic tableau of looted treasures: glittering jewels, arcane artifacts piled high, and more gold he had seen since Dawnless, yet Baines knew this was only a fraction of the wealth the Treyl family had amassed.
He couldn't neglect the fact they were likely bolstered by the lair of the lightning dragon.
-Wick, bring the remaining valuables with you.
Baines commanded telepathically, his throat still raw from the Dragon's Tongue. He cast a final glance at Ralph, who stood over Yill's corpse, his expression a mix of grim satisfaction and lingering sorrow.
