The titan's dream is now a reality. He stands as Sultan, as emperor of the Dragon's Throat, lord over these golden sands. In the Sun God's name he holds the crown of one of the largest herds in Helovia, and he is hard-pressed to suppress his utter delight in the new position he's found himself in. There's a spring in his step, a powerful, authoritative addition to his stride; the throne he now holds is obvious in the thick curve of his neck, in the regal set of his face. His dragons are, if possible, even more overjoyed than him, especially Vadir. "I queen, you king," she gleefully tells him as she soars alongside him, one leathery wingtip brushing gently against his side. Vérzés nestles into his broad back, his ruby scales glimmering beneath the harsh sun of their home.

The stallion has no goal in particular with today's idle plod around the desert; he's simply wandering his kingdom, bathing in his good fortune and contemplating the future of glory that he will lead the Throat into. Lost in thought, Volterra finds himself approaching the oasis, and Vadir immediately increases the pace of her wings to send herself zooming faster through the air. She sends her bonded a quick image of a familiar bay man stood at the water's edge, before plummeting like a golden cannonball into the centre of the lake. She emerges from the depths with a wiggling fish clutched in her strong jaws, which she joyously devours whilst floating lazily on her back.

Volterra snorts his amusement at his dragon's antics as he edges closer to the mahogany man nearby. "Reichenbach," comes the Indomitable's baritone rumble, his broad skull dipping in greeting to the other equine. He'd recruited the man when he'd still been Gladiator, but he is sure word has spread about his recent promotion. "How are you finding the Throat?"

The two stallions are not alone for long. Maren's arrival draws the newly-crowned Sultan's attention, his gaze traveling across the bodies of both her and her tiger companion. He has seen her around the herd yet has never directly spoken with her - now seems like the ideal chance to get to know the mare who holds one of his herd's highest ranks. "Maren," comes the goliath's rumbled greeting. His attention is momentarily snatched back to Vadir as the golden dragon plunges to the depths again and rises this time with a worryingly large fish wiggling between her jaws, but he swiftly returns his gaze to his two herdmates.

Reichenback addresses him, before stopping off to speak to Maren about singing. Singing?! Volterra almost swallows his own tongue in his surprise at the words, whilst Vérzés chortles on his back. "Heard you sing once, when you bathing in oasis," the dragon mentally remarks. "Sounded like dying fox." The titan ruffles his shoulders angrily and turns his head to glare at his companion. I wasn't singing, I was talking to myself about how nice the water was. The crimson beast sniggers knowingly but drops the point for now, whilst Volterra prays to all the Gods in the sky that his dragon never repeats that story.

The bay speaks again, adding that he feels he would be more suitable for the physical side of things. Approval blossoms in the leviathan's crimson gaze - when he'd first set eyes on Reichenbach, he'd earmarked him as a potential warrior. Now he is Sultan, it is even more important that he raises the Throat to be a herd that causes a frisson of fear in the hearts of its enemies; the thought of the Throat's warriors should terrify, cripple with awe. "The Throat prides itself on its strong warriors. I may not be Gladiator anymore, but I still have a keen interest in ensuring our forces are as powerful as they can possibly be - so naturally, I would suggest that you join the ranks of the warriors." He glances to Maren, keen to assuage her reaction to the two men discussing matters of war; does her rank imply she is a peaceful woman, or is she merely a cat who has had no opportunity to test her claws?

"I would be more than happy to test your abilities." His eyes gleam excitedly for a moment - despite the fact he is now a man with power, there is no hiding his unshakeable love of the battlefield. Any excuse to cross swords with another is one that he will leap gleefully upon, and he thinks Reichenbach would be a worthy match.

He offers a grin to Maren, too, as she concedes defeat about Reichenbach joining his ranks rather than hers. He wants the Throat to have plenty of Wise Ones, too, but at this moment in time he feels that it is more important to have warriors - after all, Wise Ones will be of little use if their herd is destroyed by an invading force without the means to protect it.

I'm a warrior! The titan glances around, looking for the source of this voice, keen to meet another of his soldiers - but he can't see anything! Frowning, he looks down, then down further....ah. He is confronted with the tiniest horse he's ever seen, so diminutive that he barely passes Volterra's knees. Picking his jaw up off the floor, the titan finds himself floundering for words - this teeny tiny pony is a warrior? But...how on earth will he manage to fight? Anybody bigger would surely be able to overwhelm him on brute strength alone, and he can't imagine something so small being able to pack much of a punch.

Yet if his many years as a warlord have taught Volterra anything, it is not to underestimate anybody. As a Sultan, too, he has no wish to alienate those of his herd who are only trying to help. So he plasters on a smile and glances down to Pippigrin with as kind an expression as he can possibly adopt, whilst his dragons unhelpfully fill his mind with the question of "noms??" "Pleased to meet you, Pip. I don't believe we've met - I'm Volterra, the Sultan here."