A quiet chuckle escaped Alister.
"Relax."
He looked out over the city once more, the evening wind gently tugging at his silver hair.
"If you keep fuming like that, you might actually burst a blood vessel."
Anya clicked her tongue, clearly unimpressed.
"You're not the only one who's battle-hungry," Alister continued calmly. "My dragons are no different."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"Draven keeps asking me when he and the troops he's trained will finally be allowed to march out and bring glory to the Dragon Race."
He let out a quiet sigh.
"Even Alzuring has grown eager to destroy something."
There was a hint of amusement in his voice.
"Which is rather unlike his usual elegant self."
Alister folded his arms behind his back as the wind swept across the rooftop.
"And to all of them..."
He suddenly leaned toward Anya.
"...I give the same answer."
Their eyes met.
"Be patient."
Anya stared at him for a moment.
Then her brows knitted together.
"...For how long?"
