Two kingdoms with soldiers that will not take a step back, the royalty stands in the center, priests beside them, the cavalry preparing for battle, castles defending at the very end.

Breathing flames yet never burns, scales like armor, wings that churn. A myth of old, a tale untold, guarding treasures, fierce and bold.

I appear as lower class, but I am not without a touch of southern sass. People associate me with The Devil going south and being taken to mass..

I stand the height of my wielder, armed of spike and blade alike. Guards love me, yet cavalry despise me. I stand high atop the king’s blade, yet always in his shadow. What am I?

A strategic move to guard the king, protected by his tower; A home surrounded by a ring of stone, a seat of power. The first may have a checkered floor, the second overlooks the poor.