"Dada, they destoy dem gud..."

  Was what the one-year-old Rhaegal said as he innocently observed the aftermath of Myr's conquest.

  At least, "destoy" is what he saw from his high vantage point.

  Up and above in the sky... atop Vermithor... overlooking the siege on Myr with his "dada" holding him.

  "Yep, they destroyed them indeed." Ronan appeasingly replied to his cute son, who had cried his way to be here in this danger zone.

  Then again, he sighed as he looked at the wreckage. "I didn't want the Krakens and dragons to wreak havoc in the city proper for a reason though..."

  Mirroring his father's sound disappointment, little Rhaegal also muttered. "Sai..."

  That's not really a sigh in a sense, but Ronan didn't really want to correct his little copycat.

  Granted, he could still very much chastise his mother and relatives for getting carried away.

  For making a mess of central Myr and all that.

  And maybe he'll check out the status and parameters of their new suits while he's at it.

  So, with that in mind, he wordlessly commanded Vermithor to swoop down... and swoop down, the Bronze Fury did.

  Towards where the Royces gathered.

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  Alas, as soon as they landed, little Rhaegal got whisked away by his spoiling gran-gran.

  And from riding a dragon, the little Prince was quick to transition into zorse-riding with Lady Rhea to see the beaten Myr in a more grounded perspective.

  Ronan could only agree... and he didn't really have to worry much since the trio was tanked with so many protection runes.

  Rhaegal had a nifty agimat... mother's Bronze Huntress outfit even had anti-projectile properties... and that lucky zorse had a share of equestrian-themed defensive sorcery.

  The dragons didn't even have their armors yet... so that zorse is a really lucky one. To serve as a tester for steed armoring.

  Accordingly, as they zoomed away, Ronan thought of his mother's destructive tally in this war... and how she literally topped the unofficial chart. Barring those veteran dragons and Krakens that learned gatling throw and land-walking.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Then again, he really should have expected that it was going to happen when he armed her with that Compound Bronze Bow and those explosive arrows.

  He himself was not spared from letting loose after he created and deemed them operational.

  After all, who wouldn't want to be like John Rambo?

  Launching those torque-tipped explosive arrow heads with a cool compound bow... and blowing stuff up.

  It was literally fiction real-ized and wildfire controllably weaponized.

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  In any case, mother gets a pass... but the rest really needed to be told to be more stable and steady with their newfound powers... or their new-forged armors.

  Especially Uncle Gunthor, who he designed to have an armor that was inspired by another armor that was classically problematic.

  The Rhino.

  Or for the case of his big uncle... it was named the Bronze Rhino.

  Even when rhinoceroses didn't go by that naming in this world… maybe… probably…

  Either way, it was just good that old Gunthor was not showing signs of being corrupted or being trapped in the suit in the state of forever.

  Accordingly, the devastation in his trail was just a case of not being used to his boosted strength... and maybe having too much fun with the capability to mow through buildings unscathed.

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  After that, Ronan checked on the next relative and the next armor.

  One that he envisioned to be reminiscent of Moon Knight... but sort of turned into something akin to the Green Goblin's glider or the Silver Surfer's board.

  Dynamic clothing is still too advanced for him... so, a cloak that shifted itself into a moon was a no go... but the pivot still fit well with his cousin Nestor.

  A floating platform in the shape of a crescent moon.

  For the future Keeper of the Gates of the Moon... and heir of House Royce, of the Gates of the Moon.

  A cadet branch but relatives nonetheless... and aside from the crescent moon being a perfect theme for their lineage... cousin Nestor happened to be fond of surfing.

  So, yeah... It worked out well...

  However, the mastering process was finicky, and the trail of ruin made was pretty much from his recently-relevant cousin being unable to handle the magic levitating weapon just yet.

  For the Bronze Crescent was a fickle tool... but the accompanying Bronze Moon Rider armor should serve as very protective gear of sorts.

  A mishmash design choice for sure… but Ronan was satisfied with the direction and potential nonetheless.

  And maybe Jeyne would be as well.

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  Last and sort of the least in this impressive set of magic armors was the... Don't-Lose-the-Valyrian-Steel-Sword gauntlet.

  And so far, Ronan didn't have much complaints with how it was handled in this battle. Not that it can even vandalize Myr as much as the others.

  Cause it wasn't even armor at all, just an add-on to the traditional no-harm Royce armors that traditionalists like old Gerold preferred.

  Anyways, these gauntlets are in the form of arm armors that are linked to a Valyrian steel... which in this case was the little Cutlery.

  How it worked was that the wielder could throw the sharp and special steel blade away... and recall it back with a gesture.

  Projectile recall, in a way.

  Like Thor with Mjolnir and Stormbreaker... Minecraft tridents enchanted with Loyalty... or a boomerang without the tricky angling.

  But essentially, it was just a prank armor made specifically for his cousin Willam... the one who should have lost the ancestral Lamentation at a certain point in history.

  With that in mind, Ronan honestly just wanted to have a good laugh... and then gift the pranked man the prepped Bronze Ice armor afterwards.

  Unfortunately, Willam liked the simple mechanics way too much... throwing the extra light and slicing sword at enemies and beckoning back for another deadly throw...

  It's not ice powers... but it is what it is.

  Meaning that Willam is an oddball, for sure.

  And to think that he dares to accuse someone else as crazy and mad.

  Leaving Ronan to just shake his head at the pot-kettle audacity.