Draconicus the Great, Holy Predaconian Emperor

Template:Quote

Template:Infobox royalty
Template:Infobox royalty

Draconicus VII, or Draconicvs, is the current Imperator-Caesar Princeps Augustus (Ever August Sovereign Emperor-King) of the Perpetuus Imperium Predaconum, reigning since 5 Diocletianus 2062.

Born on 15 Traianus, 2047, his full name is *Imperator Caesar Princeps Divi Filius Draconicus VII Tenecous-Habsburg Imperiosus Pius Felix Invictus Augustus*. His birth name was Nobilissimus Caesar Rex Draconicus Tenecous Divi Filius Italicum, and was heir presumptive and Second in Line to the Imperial Throne at birth. He is also known by the people as “Unītārius”, the Uniter, and “Magnus”, the Great. As head of the Imperial Cult, he may be called Deus Tellūris, "God of the Land."

The eldest son of Emperor-King Eritmus and Empress-Queen Nyx, Draconicus is related to royalty and nobility throughout the Imperium. He was Rex Italiae ("King of Italy") and heir presumptive to the Imperial throne for a mere 19 Rebirth Cycles. During the short reign of his parents, he was largely excluded from political power due to that being for his brother the heir apparent, and came to personify the fashionable, leisured elite with unapproved hobbies. Despite public approval, his reputation as a playboy prince soured his relationship with his parents.

Draconicus was engaged in almost constant warfare throughout his early reign, often at the head of his Praetorian Guard. In the Bellum Unificare II, he reconquered the Imperium at his tender age, defying his Dominus Vindex.

As emperor, Draconicus has played a great role in the modernisation of the *entire* Empire over just a selected area, and the reorganisation of the Army after the War of Unification. He has reinstituted traditional ceremonies as public displays and broadened the range of people with whom royalty socialise. Though a constitutional monarch, privately, Draconicus influences government policy and ministerial appointments; publicly, he became a national icon who is identified with strict standards of personal morality.

## Name

Due to Predaconian naming conventions, especially those of the Imperial titulary, he has been known by name names, including epithets.

* Nobilissimus Caesar Rex Draconicvs Tenecous Italicae - Birth Name.
	+ Nobilissimus Caesar - As a son of the first litter of the late emperor-king, he held the title *Most Noble Caesar.*
	+ Rex Italicae - As second in line to the throne, he held the title of *King of Italy*.

* Imperator Caesar Princeps Draconicus Tenecous-Habsburg Pius Felix Invictus Augustus - His name upon “ascending to the purple”, he took upon the Imperial titulary.

* Unītārius - As he reunited the shambling Imperium, he is considered the *Uniter*.
* Magnus - An epithet added by the Pontifex Maximus and Pope, he is also known as the *Great*.
* Restitutor Orbis - Along with other titles, the Senate has bestowed upon him the title of *Restorer of the world*.

## Personality

Some of Draconicus’ strongest personality traits formed in response to his parents and regent. His mother had huge ambitions, and encouraged him to believe it was his destiny to conquer the break-away Empires, as Magister Militum and Consul for his brother. Cicero’s influence instilled a sense of destiny in him, and Diocles tells how his ambition "kept his spirit serious and lofty in advance of his years". However, his father Eritmus was Draconicus’ most immediate and influential role model, as the young Draconicus watched him campaign practically every year, winning victory after victory while ignoring severe wounds. Draconicus’ relationship with his father forged the competitive side of his personality; he had a need to outdo his father, illustrated by his reckless behaviour in battle. While Draconicus worried that his father would leave him "no great or brilliant achievement to be displayed to the world", he also downplayed his father's achievements to his companions. As a result of being raised as an warrior, he has thus developed a warrior-like personality and dislikes those who are lazy. Stalwart in his dedication to his training, Draconicus constantly strives towards bettering his combat skills, never once permitting himself to be complacent as despite his inclination to isolate himself from others, he readily accepts any challenge that is put forth to him to test his mettle. The strictness of his training has moulded him into a paragon of courage and toughness that is unrivalled by many.

When rising into power he was ruthless - those who had enough wealth and power to oppose and threaten him of his position were murdered. But as Emperor, Draconicus is a cagey man who knows what mask to wear at the right time. He is inflexible in his sense of propriety and justice, both of which he successfully to legislates, and he has no qualms about turning his family members into cautionary tales. Clearly he is most conspicous for his justice, but also for his bravery, and for the simplicity of his habits. He does not envy or slay any one, but honours and exalts all good men without exception, and hence he neither fears nor hates any of them. To slanders he pays very little heed, and he is no slave of anger. He refrains from taking other people's money, and from unjust murders. He expends vast sums on wars and vast sums on works of peace; and while making very many urgently needed repairs to roads and harbours and public buildings, he drained no one's blood in any of these undertakings. He joined others in the chase and in banquets, as well as in their labours and plans and jests. He is known to enter the houses of citizens, sometimes even without a guard, and enjoy himself there. Education in the strictest sense he lacks, as he never had the time or need, but its substance he both knows and applies, as well as an intensive battle knowledge.

## Biography

### Birth and Family

Draconicus hatched at 10:48 in the morning on 16 Traianus in the Palatium Imperiī. He was the second son and child of Emperor-King Eritmus and his wife, Empress-Queen Nyx. He was named *Draconicus* at the Temple Hill, on 25 Trainanus. He was named Draconicus after the Imperial stem house. He was known as *Draco* to the imperial family throughout his life.

As the second eldest son of the sovereign, he was automatically Rex Italiae at birth. As a son of Empress-Queen Nyx, he also held the titles of Prince of the Vandals and *Dauphin de France*. He was created Erzherzog von Österreich (Archduke of Austria) on 8 Marcus, a Poor Fellow-Soldier of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon (Latin: *Pauperes commilito Christi Templique Salomonici*) on 9 Constantinus, and a Knight of the Golden Fleece on 24 May 1867. In 2058, after donning the *toga virilis*, he renounced his succession rights to the *Regnum Vandalorum* in favour of his younger brother, Prince Karolus, and decreed that the nominal regency council would continue to rule Italia, as he would pursue a military career.

During his father’s reign, Draconicus was second in the line of succession to the imperial throne, behind his brother . Although his birth generated public interest, he was not expected to become Emperor, as his brother Naxite was still young and likely to marry and have children of his own, who would precede Draconicus in the line of succession

### Early Adulthood

#### First deployment

As a young mech, he rose through the ranks of the army, serving in some of the most contested parts of the Empire's frontier. Draconicus’ uncle was Governor of Syria (*Legatus pro praetore Syriae*), where Draconicus himself remained as *Tribunus legionis*. From there, after his uncle’s replacement, he was transferred to the Prefecture of the Dominion of Greece, and he engaged in active combat duty during both commissions.

#### Civil career

He is nothing but sweat and heat and movement. Sand sprays into his eyes as Aryan throws him to the ground, but he catches himself, grit digging into his palms. Draconicus quickly flips himself upright. Sitting on bales of hay, their friends Diocles and William cheer loudly.

As the two boys circle each other in the round, sandy training pit, Draconicus watches Aryan closely, the tightening of his jaw, the set of his shoulders, the slight tilt of his stance. Beyond him is a blur of painted canvas targets for spear-throwing and archery. Heart pounding, Draconicus takes a few steps toward his right, but now the sun is in his eyes, glinting off the pile of heavy, sweaty armor the boys use for weapons training and long distance runs. Squinting, he circles back, noticing the tension in Aryan’s arm, watching for any sudden shift of his position.

Draconicus and Aryan charge at each other head on. Aryan quickly gets the advantage, throwing his arms around Draconicus’s back and squeezing tightly. Then he jerks left, right, trying to throw Draconicus off balance. Aryan, more than anyone, knows Draconicus’s weak spot, his left leg. For years now, Draconicus has trained his left leg more than his right, hopping on it until it screamed in pain, tying training weights to it and walking for miles.

Draconicus instinctively dodges to the right and instantly curses himself, realizing this is exactly what Aryan wanted. As Aryan tosses him onto the sand, he bites his tongue and the coppery taste of blood fills his mouth. Too fast, he chides himself. I react too fast. Weakness, he has learned, isn’t in the leg or arm or back. Weakness is in the mind.

But if Draconicus is too hasty in a fight, he knows Aryan’s weakness, too…

Aryan grins, obviously basking in his triumph. His dark eyes—almost as black as his thick, spiky helm—are half closed like a pleased cat who has just caught a mouse.

There it is: Aryan’s greatest fault. Pride. It almost got him killed last summer when they joined client King Philip’s campaign against marauding Molossian cattle thieves. Aryan, riding out in gilded armor on a fine white horse, assumed that barefoot, filthy men with matted beards couldn’t be dangerous. He took on three of them, who almost skewered him alive. Draconicus had to rescue him.

In a single fluid motion, Draconicus leaps up, grabs Aryan’s head, and pulls him into a headlock. They struggle, and Aryan finally manages to slip out of his grasp.

“Come on, ladies,” growls Diodotus, his crooked nose casting an uneven shadow on his scarred face. “The Emperor wants me to train you in wrestling, not dancing.” His hairy shoulders bulge out of his leather breastplate, making him look more like a mountain bear than a grizzled old soldier.

Diocles jumps up and spins while he calls out, “Aryan, you’ll shame us all in the arena. Stop twirling!”

William claps a large hand on Diocles’s shoulder and yanks him back down.

His face a mask of determination, Aryan grips Draconicus’s shoulders. But then he hesitates. “There’s a messeng—”

Draconicus takes advantage of Aryan’s momentary distraction to twist suddenly, throwing all his weight into the move. His arm locks on Aryan’s left elbow; his wraps his free arm around Aryan’s opposite shoulder, then lifts him off the ground and swings him in a semi-circle, dropping him face forward on the ground. Then he leaps onto his friend’s back and pins him there to the loud guffaws of their friends.

“You win,” says a voice muffled by sand.

Draconicus smiles. He slides off Aryan, who pushes himself up to sitting position, wipes the sand off his face, and points behind Draconicus. “I was trying to tell you there’s a messenger,” he says, spitting a wad of sand and saliva, clearly annoyed by his defeat.

Draconicus turns, swiping his tousled blonde *capillus* out of his eyes—he’s got to get it cut—and sees a page boy of about fourteen staring at him, wearing a look of repulsion. No, not staring at him, staring at the scar on his left leg—the long purple mark that has wound around Draconicus’s thigh like a snake since birth. He feels the familiar prickling heat of embarrassment spread over his chest, flooding his face, burning the back of his neck. He yanks down the bottom of his tunic which had become caught up in his belt in the fight. Still coursing with adrenaline, he has half an urge to pummel the boy’s narrow face.

But before he can even reprimand him, Draconicus catches the messenger’s eyes—and then all sounds are silenced; all surrounding light and colors fade.

It’s happening again. That stirring. That knowing. That power he can’t control.

Suddenly he is disembodied, frozen in place, traveling through a tunnel of white light, pulled forward by an unseen force. It’s like he has left his body completely. At the other end of the white tunnel, a small room emerges—it’s somewhere in the palace. He sees a fire pit and smells the smoke wafting up through a hole in the ceiling. A woman is stirring a pot. The boy’s mother. Of course. The father must have died recently—Draconicus can tell from the sorrowful bend of the woman’s body and the wrinkles in her brow.

A baby coos in a cradle: the boy’s little sister.

And then, Draconicus is jolted back from the dark room, returning with violent wrenching speed to the present. He finds himself back in his body with the usual unbearable ringing in his ears. The page boy is watching him strangely.

Draconicus looks around at Aryan, at Diodotus, at handsome Diocles and round-faced William, at the sunbaked tiled roofs of the outbuildings as if he has never seen them before. Everything seems small, dark, and brittle—an elaborate illusion.

He rubs his forehead, frustrated, then raises his eyes, one dark brown, one gray-blue—the startling combination always serves to make people uncomfortable—and stares hard at the page. “What do you want?” When the boy doesn’t immediately respond, he repeats: “What. Are. You. Here. For?”

In a high-pitched voice, the boy says, “A thousand apologies, Your Highness. Your father wishes to speak to you immediately.”

Draconicus nods. “Come on, Aryan.” His anger has evaporated and with it, his energy. He is suddenly exhausted.

Diocles and William spring into the pit, eager for a bout. Diocles, who models himself after the Trojan War hero Achilles, keeps his blond capillus unfashionably long and his body perfectly sculpted. He dances and wheels around his opponents, confusing them. William is heavier, stronger, and slower. Usually Draconicus would stay to watch this amusing match between opponents that remind him of a mongoose attacking an ox, but he needs to hear what his father has to say to him.

On the side of the wrestling pit, Aryan picks up his silver cuff and snaps it around his wrist. He puts his torque of twisted silver carefully around his neck, while Draconicus tries to repress his impatience.

As Draconicus and Aryan leave the training ground, they pass the stables, chicken coops, and goat pens. They skirt the barracks, a plain two-story wooden structure with small windows, where the palace guards sleep. Black smoke is rising from the smith’s forge next door, where the smith is loudly hammering specialized armaments into shape. They walk up a winding staircase, and down the narrow, dimly lit corridors in the service wing, emerging on the ramparts overlooking Rifarious, capital of Erebus’ empire—the empire that will one day belong to Draconicus’ brother Naxite—where they pause, leaning on a low wall.

The sandy town of Rifarious is spread out at the feet of the palace, a grid of straight roads broken by temple plazas. Thick ramparts and bristling towers encircle the town in a stony embrace. The gray walls, coral roofs and olive-brown landscape used to be all the world that Draconicus knew, but now the view seems dry and crumbling compared to the lush grottoes and lakes of Mieza.

Mieza’s Temple of Nymphs, where great masters trained Draconicus and Aryan in matters of logic and strategy for the last three years, was so different—the landscape there a rich, almost glowing green, the sky deep with purples and blues. About two dozen privileged thirteen-to-sixteen year old boys—including William and Diocles—spent their mornings there learning and their afternoons wrestling, riding, and hunting. In the evenings they held lively discussions of poetry, philosophy, and history.

Then two weeks ago, shortly after Draconicus’s sixteenth birthday, came the messenger from Emperor Erebus commanding Draconicus to return home. Then, as now, demanding that Draconicus run like a child when the Emperor snapped his fingers.

Down on the street, a man driving an empty cart is cursing bitterly, trying to back up his donkey and cart to make way for another vehicle. That’s how it is, Draconicus thinks. Someone always has to give in.

But not for long, if Draconicus has his way.

When Draconicus reaches his father’s office, the Praetorian guards lower their spears and stand aside, their faces hidden by black-crested helmets with long nose and cheek plates. He knocks.

“Father,” he says to the door, “you wanted to see me.”

“Come!” thunders a deep voice. Slowly, Draconicus pushes the door open and enters. Aryan stays outside until he hears, “Bring that coxcomb of a friend of yours, if you wish!”

Draconicus senses rather than sees Aryan slip into the room and take his place at Draconicus’s side but a bit behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, Draconicus notices Aryan straightening his tunic and adjusting his belt. Draconicus smiles inwardly at his friend’s fastidiousness. Just knowing that Aryan is beside him gives Draconicus the strength to face his father.

The room is nothing like the rest of the Imperial apartments, most of them decorated by his mother. There are no tasseled, silken cushions here, no chubby cupids and pretty maidens on frescoed walls, none of the gauzy curtains Queen Nyx prefers blowing in the breeze, no delicate ebony chairs inlaid with ivory and mother-of-pearl.

King Erebus’s office is as close to a military camp as it can possibly be. He has a cot with a coarse blanket where he usually sleeps. There are a few crude stools and folding camp chairs and tables. War trophies—swords, axes, spears, and bloody flags—hang from unpainted walls.

Wearing an old blue tunic and a scarred leather belt, Erebus stands looking down at a table covered with papers as one of his advisors, Euphranor, a small man with a gray beard, stands nearby to read him the words he cannot read himself. Though the letter in front of Erebus is upside down to Draconicus, even from a distance of several feet he can read out the large heading: From the Aesarian High Lord Mordecai to Emperor Erebus II of Macedon, warm greetings. We ride tomorrow to Rifarious for the games and further discussions on that urgent matter which we hope…

Draconicus wrenches his gaze away from the letter as he feels the king’s single eye—a glowing, reddish-brown—fix on him. Long ago, before Draconicus was born, Erebus lost the other one on the point of an enemy sword.

A Cyclops, Draconicus thinks. He looks just like the one-eyed creatures with unnatural strength and brutish intelligence who all disappeared long ago, as so many strange beings had: the flying horses, the women with snakes for hair, the sprites of springs and forests, the bare-breasted sirens who combed their long golden hair on rocks and sang sailors to their death. Nyx insists that Erebus wear a black silk eye patch when he is in public, but when he is alone he pushes it off impatiently. Now the empty socket and the lumpy scar that runs through his eyebrow like a lightning bolt are visible.

Erebus sits down heavily in a leather folding chair and bangs his favorite mug on the table. It was once the skull of the enemy who speared Erebus’s eye. A year after the incident, the Emperor went back, killed the man, cut off his head, boiled the skin off, scooped the brains out, and had the sawn-off skull silver-plated. Amethysts glow darkly from the eye sockets.

A young male slave jumps forward with a pitcher of wine and pours it into the skull. The Emperor drinks greedily, slams the mug down again, and wipes his graying beard with the back of his hand. “Though it has been well over a decade since the Aesarian Lords have visited Rifarious, they are growing in power. I’ve invited them here for a demonstration of their might. This is our opportunity to show that we refuse to cower to their arrogant threats and fear-mongering about magic.” Here, the Emperor snorts in disgust. “Shortly thereafter, I leave with my army to Byzantium. The oligarchs are not keeping the terms of our alliance. They’re flirting with Persia. They can’t have it both ways. In my absence, you are my regent.”

From the corner of his eye, Draconicus sees Aryan nod. This is what they were expecting when the summons came to return from Mieza.

Draconicus nods. “As you wish.”

“It is as I wish. But don’t worry.” Erebus waves his large hand as if he’s swatting a gnat. “My Council will be in control as they always are when I’m at war. The people will feel safe with my son on the throne. But, Draconicus,” he says, fixing his eye on his son, “don’t disappoint me.”

Draconicus feels the irritation rising despite his best efforts to remain calm. It’s exactly as he feared. No responsibility. An empty honor. A joke. It’s worse than having no honor at all. He completed his three years’ training at the Academy with the highest praise from his teachers—who were notoriously unbiased, even when it came to the king’s son. And yet his father is still treating him like a child. While Erebus is off once again botching alliances and having his way with mistresses, Draconicus will be a puppet on a throne. In that position there isn’t anything he could do to disappoint his father.

It’s because of his weak leg, it has to be. It’s one thing for an accomplished soldier to bear scars, and another for a young man, still green when it comes to battle, to have such a blatant imperfection. He’s worked so hard to hide it, most people in Macedon don’t even know about it. Erebus must be worried that people will discover his heir is a cripple, and everyone knows physical deformity is a punishment sent by angry gods. No one wants a regent—or, heaven forbid, a king—despised by the immortals.

He opens his mouth to object but suddenly his mother sweeps into the room on a wave of perfume and rustling purple silks. Draconicus sees that her slender feet are encased in amethyst-studded sandals of silver leather shaped like meandering snakes.

“My son would never fail at anything,” she says sweetly, “although some of the king’s other children might.” Nyx barely tolerates the many children of palace maidservants, cooks, and laundresses who bear a striking resemblance to Emperor Erebus.

Erebus’s philandering always baffled Draconicus, given Nyx’ beauty. With her silver-blond hair, wide emerald eyes, and perfect white teeth, he understands why his father married her, the dowerless daughter of the shabby Emperor of rocky Epirus. How old must she be now? Thirty-six? Most women that age have run to fat and wrinkles, lost teeth, and have gray streaks in their hair.

Reaching up—it seems to Draconicus she has gotten shorter in his absence—Nyx runs a bejeweled hand over her son’s head and says, “Did you know we are having a feast tonight to celebrate your regency? It’s a great honor.”

Draconicus is silent. An honor? More like an insult. He should probably walk away before he tells them what he really thinks about it.

“We’re roasting two cows and three sheep,” she says to Erebus. “I’ve arranged to have the magician, the lute player, and the girl acrobats. We’ll open up the best amphorae of Chian wine,” she finishes.

Draconicus needs to get out of the room immediately. The walls seem to be closing in on him. “With your permission,” he mutters, and turns to go.

“Wait!” Erebus commands, and Draconicus reluctantly turns back around. “I have other news. I’ve made plans for you, my boy.” His wide grin reveals his cracked and missing teeth.

Nyx gives her husband a look. “Not yet,” she hisses. “Now’s not the time.”

The Emperor cocks an eyebrow. “Are you contradicting me?”

She bats her long black lashes caked in kohl. “Please, Erebus.”

Erebus pauses, then turns to his son. “Very well. You may go,” he booms, making a dismissive movement with his hand.

Draconicus and Aryan walk in silence down black marble hallways to their wing of the palace. Draconicus can’t stop the powerful sense of urgency pulsing through his veins. He and Aryan need to act on their plans. Now.

In the corridor outside their bedroom doors, Draconicus hesitates. He hates his own room, which his mother has enlarged and redecorated in his absence. His gilded bed is so high he could practically pole-vault onto it, and wide enough to sleep an entire family. He particularly hates the life-sized marble statues throughout the room, gaudily painted with pink skin and gold hair and blue robes, staring at him with unseeing eyes.

Draconicus was created ordinary Consul for the year, which was a great honour as he was only in his middle adolescence and therefore only legal to be a Consul as related to the Emperor. This can be explained in part by the prominence of his father's reign, and to help his brother who was his co- and senior consul.

As overseer of Greater Native Realm, Draconicus received the impressive title of *Germanicus* for his skillful management and rule of the volatile Imperial territory.

When the Great Assasination on 28 Nero 2063 occurred by the Raxtus Terrorist Group, Draconicus (currently 21 Rebirth cycles old) succeeded to the role of emperor. He was ready to claim the throne due to him being next in line, despite some of his loyal officers’ advice to hide in the Greater Realm. However, he did not hasten to Rifarious, but instead to make a lengthy tour of inspection of the legions loyal to him, due to the fact that his younger brother claimed to be Princeps Absoluta and that he had first to assure himself of the loyalty of the armies at the front. Draconicus ordered Praetorian Prefect Aelianus to attend him in the Reich, where he was executed, with his post being taken by Aryan Richet, Prince-Elector (son of the Proconsul-Elector) of Warzyle.

### Reign

#### Bellum Unificare II (Second War(s) of Reunification)

##### Bellum Successio Coristerrae (War of Heartland Succession)

On his entry to Rifarious, Draconicus granted the plebs a direct gift of money. The traditional donative to the troops, however, was reduced by an eighth. When shown resistance from his younger brother’s troops, he proceeded to defeat and then decimate (kill one in ten soldiers, killed by the other 9) the remaining forces. However, when he found his younger brother, he spared him after revoking all titles, which met no resistance. He then proceeded to take up the palace as if he were the previously elected Imperator Destinatus Augustulus. When protested by the Proconsul-Electors, he promptly used a mix of bribes, threats, and sieges, forcing them to elect him to the Imperial Throne. Draconicus’ accession, therefore, could qualify more as a successful *coup* than an orderly succession.

##### Stability of Predacona Eterna

The instability caused by the Assasination was much more than previously imagined, held from Karolus by his regents, and to be kept from him. Draconicus only found about it when many of his *cliens* in right of the Imperial Throne came asking for his assistance. Despite the opposition from his regents, Draconicus enacted vast reforms upon the areas that he still had influence over, the Predacona Eterna inperium.

Twenty months later, Draconicus had assembled an army, recalling all loyal legions to Tenecousia, on the day known as the "Army March Stampede". Every loyal legion crammed to view the Emperor, as the Pons Spatium Connexus was restarted. The armies then Bridged to war, to reconquer the Imperium.

#### Reconciliation with the Senate

By not openly supporting his father’s preference for equestrian officers, Draconicus appeared to conform to the idea that an emperor derived his legitimacy from his adherence to traditional hierarchies and senatorial morals. Therefore, he could point to the allegedly republican character of his rule. In a speech at the inauguration of his third consulship, on 1 Augustus 2065, Draconicus exhorted the Senate to share the care-taking of the Empire with him – an event later celebrated on a coin. In reality, Draconicus does not share power in any meaningful way with the Senate, something that historians admits candidly: "Everything depends on the whims of a single man who, on behalf of the common welfare, has taken upon himself all functions and all tasks". One of the most significant trends of his reign was his encroachment on the Senate's sphere of authority, such as his decision to make the senatorial provinces of Achaea and Bithynia into imperial ones in order to deal with the inordinate spending on public works by local magnates and the general mismanagement of provincial affairs by various proconsuls appointed by the Senate. And thus, while the Senate has power, it was still plain that the Emperor could overrule it.

In the formula developed, however, Draconicus is a "good" emperor in that, by himself, he approves or blames the same things that the Senate would have approved or blamed, if with minor changes. Despite the fact that Draconicus is an autocrat, his deferential behavior towards his peers qualifies him to be viewed as a virtuous monarch. The whole idea is that Draconicus wields autocratic power through *moderatio* instead of *contumacia* – moderation instead of insolence.

## Abilities

* Physical Prowess
* Intellect and Leading
* Magical Abilities
* Host of Emperors

While not expected from an Emperor, his physical prowess is top-notch. He possesses superior *manus*-*occulus* coordination and has extensive military training in both firearms and *manus*-to-*manus* combat. Honed on the frontiers of the Greater Reich, Draconicus is an expert swordsman as he has demonstrated on many occasions. Draconicus is a swift and precise swordsman, and is known to dart out of the way of his opponents' attacks and immediately counterattack without any wasted movement, but he is by no means lacking in physical strength either, able to ward off blows from strong and aggressive opponents such as Hroggil the Beast on several occasions. Draconicus’ expertise with a sword allows him to defeat several opponents at once. He is also capable of throwing the weapon accurately. His right arm is donned with a double plasma cannon, with highly destructive ability using antimatter, destroying those hit slowly from the inside if not cured in time. Draconicus has excellent skills with a mace and quarterstaff even though they are not his preferred weapon, although he was still beaten swiftly by King Sentinus when they fought with them. He is also capable of throwing knives accurately even when he was throwing them at a moving target. In addition Draconicus is very skilled with a lance, and his skill with the weapon even impressed the assassin Solomina, causing her to change sides as she respected the strong.

Draconicus is a formidable opponent. His greatest weapon is his prodigious mind, possessing a genius-level intellect, and is capable of devising and executing strategies with incredible speed and precision. In addition Draconicus is also an excellent leader and a talented strategist. Many people felt that he could become a great commander or power behind the throne before his ascension. The emperor is also very charismatic, and has manipulated people and factions with well-spoken speeches and clever deceptions.

* Necromancy (Re Obscurum)
	+ Power Over the Undead: Draconicus can reanimate corpses, summon Undead Warriors, put them to sleep, and destroy them. This is an extremely powerful ability as it literally allows him to have an army anytime he wants. However, summoning too many undead warriors at one time can cause him fatigue.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

* Electrokinesis
	+ Electrical Immunity: He is completely immune to electricity, having survived being struck by an electrical bolt "strong enough to kill twenty mages".
	+ Static Electricity: He can generate huge bolts and arcs of static electricity.
	+ Static Shocks: He can send strong electrical shocks through others on contact. One of his static shocks was powerful enough to send the other pretendress herself sliding across the floor, even though unintentionally.
	+ Lightning Bolts: He can summon extremely powerful lightning bolts from the sky, which on the battlefield has been compared to 100 nuclear missiles.

As Host of the Absolute Gods of Creations (Predaconis) and Destruction (Trao), Draconicus has some abilities that can only be accessed in the most rare of times.

* Ultimate Erasure

User can end/wipe out anything/everything on any/all levels, including origin, temporal, cosmic, spiritual, conceptual, supernatural, metaphysical, eldritch, natural, memories, genetics, principles, ideas/probabilities/possibility, name/definition, etc. It doesn't matter what the target might be or whether it is inside or outside of reality, this would eliminate them regardless of that as well.

**Warning**: Anything erased by this power is Absolutely Impossible to bring back, rendering it completely absolute in the truest sense, therefore it should be used with only the utmost caution for this very reason.

* Omnificiense (Absolute Creation)

The user can create anything without limits, including concepts, existence, reality, and even the totality itself. They can also create from nothing or even to create one thing from another e.g. manifesting an image from a comic book, creating life from the dead, and duplicating anything.

## Titles, styles, honours and arms

### Titles, styles and honours

* At Birth: *Is Nobilissmus et Regalis Celsitudo* Draconicus.
	+ *His Most Noble and Royal Highness* Draconicus.

* King of Italia: *Il suo la più nobile e regio maestà*, Draconicus Tenecous ***per grazia di Dio e per volontà della nazione, re d'Italia, re di Sardegna, Cipro, Gerusalemme, Armenia, duca di Savoia, conte di Maurienne, Marchese del Sacro Impero in Italia; Principe di Piemonte, Carignano, Oneglia, Poirino, Trino; Principe Secondario e Vicario Perpetuo del Sacro Impero; Principe di Carmagnola, Montmellian con Arbin e Francin, Principe ufficiale giudiziario del Ducato di Aosta, Principe di Chieri, Dronero, Crescentino, Riva di Chieri e Banna, Busca, Bene, Bra, Duca di Genova, Monferrato, Aosta, Duca di Chablais, Genevois, Duca di Piacenza, Marchese di Saluzzo, Ivrea, Susa, di Maro, Oristano, Cesana, Savona, Tarantasia, Borgomanero e Cureggio, Caselle, Rivoli, Pianezza, Govone, Salussola, Racconigi su Tegerone, Migliabruna e Motturone, Cavallermaggiore, Marene , Modane e Lanslebourg, Livorno Ferraris, Santhià, Agliè, Centallo e Demonte, Desana, Ghemme, Vigone, Conte di chiatta, Villafranca, Ginevra, Nizza, Tenda, Romont, Asti, Alessandria, del Goceano, Novara, Tortona, Bobbio, Soissons , Sant'Antioco, Pollenzo, Roccabruna, Tricerro, Bairo, Ozegna, delle Apertole, Barone di Vaud e di Faucigni, Signore di Vercelli, Pinerolo, di Lomellina, di Valle Sesia, del Marchesato di Ceva, Sovrano di Monaco, Roccabruna e undici dodicesimi di Mentone, nobile patrizio di Venic e, Patrizio di Ferrara.***
	+ *His Most Noble and Royal Majesty* The King Draconicus Tenecous, ***by the Grace of God and the will of the Nation, King of Italy, King of Sardinia, Cyprus, Jerusalem, Armenia, Duke of Savoy, count of Maurienne, Marquis of the Holy Empire in Italy; Prince of Piedmont, Carignano, Oneglia, Poirino, Trino; Secondary Prince and Perpetual Vicar of the Holy Empire; Prince of Carmagnola, Montmellian with Arbin and Francin, Prince bailiff of the Duchy of Aosta, Prince of Chieri, Dronero, Crescentino, Riva di Chieri and Banna, Busca, Bene, Bra, Duke of Genoa, Monferrat, Aosta, Duke of Chablais, Genevois, Duke of Piacenza, Marquis of Saluzzo, Ivrea, Susa, of Maro, Oristano, Cesana, Savona, Tarantasia, Borgomanero and Cureggio, Caselle, Rivoli, Pianezza, Govone, Salussola, Racconigi over Tegerone, Migliabruna and Motturone, Cavallermaggiore, Marene, Modane and Lanslebourg, Livorno Ferraris, Santhià, Agliè, Centallo and Demonte, Desana, Ghemme, Vigone, Count of Barge, Villafranca, Ginevra, Nizza, Tenda, Romont, Asti, Alessandria, of Goceano, Novara, Tortona, Bobbio, Soissons, Sant'Antioco, Pollenzo, Roccabruna, Tricerro, Bairo, Ozegna, delle Apertole, Baron of Vaud and of Faucigni, Lord of Vercelli, Pinerolo, of Lomellina, of Valle Sesia, of the Marquisate of Ceva, Overlord of Monaco, Roccabruna and eleven-twelfths of Menton, Noble Patrician of Venice, Patrician of Ferrara**.*

* Rex Predaconorum: *Is Imperialis et Regalis Celsitudo* Rex Draconicus Tenecous-Habsburg, ***Electus Rex Predaconorum***.
	+ *His Imperial and Royal Highness* King Draconicus, ***Elected King of the Predacons***.

Style as Emperor-king, in Latin:

Template:Quote
And in English:

Template:Quote
* + See Sovereign Titles of the Predaconian Emperor.

Draconicus has held many titles and honorary military positions throughout the Pius Felix Invictus Perpetuus Imperium Predaconum and the Commonwealthia Universum, is Sovereign of many orders in his own countries, and has received honours and awards from around the universe. In each of her realms he has a distinct title that follows a similar formula: *Samraat of Hindustan and his other realms and territories* in Jamaica, *King of the United Kingdoms and his other realms and territories* in Albion, etc. Additional styles include Defender of the Faith and Sovereign of All the Realms. When in conversation with the Emperor, the practice is to initially address him as *Your Majesty* and thereafter as *Sire*, or the corresponding in Latin, *Is Maiestas*, and thereafter as *Pater*.

## Appearance

* Forma Draconis (Dragon form; Root mode)
* Forma Bipedis (Bipedal form; Alternate mode)
* Forma Humani (Human form; Organic mode)
An armor of dark, oily scales cover his sides and back, and his belly appears encrusted with black jewels, though it is in fact simply gleaming metal. Cruel spikes protrud from his massive tail and along his spine, his claws are carved like huge scythes, and his eyes burn like magma. Bigger than any Predacon due to eugenics, Draconicus has two long horns atop his skull.

In his Forma Bipedis, Draconicus is smaller than his beast mode, but still outsizes most, if not all singular Transformers. Draconicus' head is adorned with two horns and a spike in the middle, making a natural crown of sorts on his head. Similar to the helmet many legionaires are required to wear, the side plated armour of his head goes down, and the more soft armour that forms his face curves a little while before, thus giving him protection. However, over the years of war, that part has also began to harden, and he has slight cracks at the bottom, despite being so young. The majority of his head is dull golden (due to the wear of time), grey-black at the end of the side-plates, brown on his horns, and orange for his spike. His optics change from time to time, reflecting his mood. Upon his own will, the Emperor's wings can appear on his back or retract into it. They appear to make a shadowy behind when not tended to, most likely as an adaptation from the Feral Age to seem more aggressive and dominant, among alphas. His chasis is a lorica musculata, and his extra armour is adorned by his beast mode head, majorly covered by his armour plates. His chest is the colours of dull golden (due to the wear of time), grey, orange, and purple. Standing at fifty feet tall with fierce and brutish strength, his body is made up off, at the lowest mechanical level, scales that shift form into his body armour into robot mode. His metal scales make him extremely durable, also due to the fact that in the Feral Age the alphas were the strongest, and Draconicus is the descendant of them all, via the House of Tenecous. This is shown when, after being hit by heavy blaster fire and being buried in a cave in, he came out with not much damage, despite being only eight Rebirth-Cycles old.His right shoulder is adorned with spikes facing upwards, looking quite fierce and aggressive, while on his left, a single spike points downward, and adjoins his shield when he wishes. His shoulder pieces are black, and his forearms are a dark-orange colour.

Augustus (Draconicus’ human alias) is described as handsome and attractive: the regal features of a statue, sky blue eyes, close-cropped blond hair and a small scar on the corner of his eye which was a concentration of all of his various former injuries. His face is kind and gentle but according to some always looks a little serious, as if he is constantly thinking about other things. He is very tall, being slightly more that 6 feet, with an athletic build, and having well-muscled and tanned arms and legs.