There is something exhilarating about a good debate, a rush that he normally only gets through war and lust. As well as being prejudiced, blinkered and shallow, Tyradon is opinionated to the point of arrogance, always believing he is in the right, and there is not a lot more satisfying than seeing the mind of another bend to his point of view. He looks back to the queen, acknowledging her responses with a lazy flick of his ear - his attention is largely focused on exactly how she gained that wonderful scar. Did the unicorn who did it spite her to the point of violence, or was it a more....accidental wound? Alas, he'll probably never know. We're not the same, she exclaims, adamant, and the smallest of smirks plays at the corner of the foul animal's muzzle. "If you say so," he says pleasantly, as though humouring a young child.

But, before their thrilling debate can continue, a parasite arrives in the form of that damned mosquito Aaron. He has equine blood in his veins and that is the only thing keeping Tyradon from forcibly ejecting his colon from out of his throat - he's an immature, naiive, holier-than-though boy whose balls are probably still descending, if he actually has any, which is open to debate. His eyes roll at the youth's words, exasperation evident as he looks imperiously down at the foolish colt blabbering like a boy to his mother. "I'm afraid I have no fucks to give for your sob story, boy, as poetic and tearjerking as it is. Begone and leave the adults to talk." Generally Tyradon was happy to educate the...less knowledgable, and would have been only too glad to put Aaron right, but the damnable child has irked him one too many times with his childish preaching. He needs taking down a few notches, as the dragon king has done countless times with headstrong sons who have grown too big for their hooves - a well-aimed kick and sharp nip to the withers is generally a good way to get them to learn their place.

But, on this occasion, he's enjoying Kahlua's company too much to disturb it. So he adopts the next best technique - turning his massive rump towards Aaron, and dutifully pretending he isn't there.

He looks back to the mare, completely ignoring the dumb colt, although Cynder keeps a single eye on him to ensure he doesn't try any cowardly tricks whilst the beast's back is turned. Kahlua seems eager to lurk beside Aaron, and the bastard resists the urge to roll his eyes - by Nieque, she is probably a more capable fighter than her painted friend. "My family know the dangers of war, Kahlua, but they're usually strong enough to defend themselves, because they need to be." He doesn't mention the fact he has essentially disowned both parents - that his father only wanted him as a soldier to mould into his own image, that his mother spent eight years trying to forget he ever existed whilst she bedded down with a unicorn, and that his siblings don't even know his name. He doesn't mention the women, the lovers, he's seen fall by the blades of enemies, nor the friends and fellow warriors that he's watched thrash out their last agonised moments on a muddy battlefield.

He doesn't mention that he watched his own dragon broken before his eyes, turned helpless and weak by the supernatural prowess of a creature Tyradon has spent his life hating.

"There is no room for sentiment on the battlefield, family or otherwise. I've watched my children die because they couldn't fight properly. I've seen my sons' throats ripped out and I've seen my daughters with foals in their bellies crushed by the hooves of my enemies, and does it make me abhor war? No - because no matter what, war will always come sooner or later. Better I ensure myself and my loved ones are prepared, rather than quivering behind my mother's skirts and hoping the tales of battle are just that - tales. " He fights the urge to send a scathing glance towards Aaron, naiive idealist that he is. No, he cares only for what Kahlua has to say, not her irritating friend.