“A-Are you sure about this?” Valo peeked over the edge, staring at the great drop down. He glanced back at Holly nervously.

Holly, despite how eager she’d been to see if Valo could learn to fly, stood far from the edge of the platform. Granted, that wasn’t especially far. They stood on a small platform—barely six feet wide—in Valo’s Lair. They were about thirty feet up from the floor—but to Valo, it looked like they were much higher up. They found themselves eye-to-eye with the top of the obelisk.

The young dragon stood on all-fours, clutching the wooden platform and keeping as low as he could for fear of falling off. He glanced back at Holly periodically—but he wasn’t just looking at her; he was also looking at his own wings. The small, stubby wings were folded, just the edges visible. They somehow looked even smaller than he remembered right now.

“You’re a dragon,” Holly said. “Flying is in your nature—in your blood.” She shrugged slightly. “I didn’t question myself when I was learning to walk as a babe.”

“Learning to walk doesn’t entail jumping to your death, though…” Valo grumbled.

“Death?” Holly gave him a flat look. “A broken bone at worst.”

“That’s not much better!” Valo yelled frantically.

“Of course it is,” Holly retorted. She sighed and shook her head. “Valo, you said that you’ve only ever learned your Skills by doing them, right? By trying them, at least.” She gestured at the edge. “You’re going to need to learn at some point. Why not now?”

“Uh… because…” Valo glanced over the edge again.

“Look,” Holly said, edging up to his side. She nodded down at the floor, where the dwarves had piled sacks of corn and potatoes. It wouldn’t entirely break Valo’s fall, but it’d hurt a hell of a lot less than hitting the cold stone of the Lair. “If you fall, you’ll land on that. But if you don’t fall…”

“I’ll fly…” Valo muttered, slowly being swayed by the idea.

Holly nodded. She gestured at the open air in front of them.

Valo nodded, convincing himself. I’ll fly, he told himself. Just do it, Valo. Just do it.

Just fly!

Valo took a few steps back, winding himself up. He dug his claws into the wood and tensed his muscles, ready to launch himself forward. He wasn’t sure how to fly, exactly, but he figured opening his wings as widely as he could was part of it. He spread his wings, flattening them out—and he immediately felt a gentle breeze plume into his wings, tugging him back slightly.

Valo furrowed his brow and angled his wings. It felt strange—like he had two more legs attached to his back. Until now, he hadn’t had much reason to control them; he’d assumed he could control them, but he’d never had a reason to do it. It felt unfamiliar, like discovering new limbs and moving for the first time.

Valo tried to take a step forward—but his wings yanked him back, filling with air. He found himself pulled back by his back, like a cat being gripped by its scruff. When he recovered, he focused and angled his wings differently—parallel to the ground. Now, his wings split the air instead of filling with it.

And this time, when he took his steps, he felt lighter. He rushed forward, throwing caution to the wind—and himself to the empty air before him. As his front legs left the platform, he felt his heart—and his body—sink.

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As his back legs left the platform, the world became a blur—a spinning blur. Valo fell end over end, his wings—and all four of his legs—flapped chaotically, desperately trying to fly. But all his frantic flailing did was accelerate his spinning as he plummeted.

And with a loud thud, Valo hit the pile of sacks. Corn and chunks of crushed potatoes spilled out of the sacks’ unsealed openings, spreading out softly as Valo stomped back up onto his feet.

Thankfully, he wasn’t badly hurt. He felt the bite of a few tender spots—his legs, his belly, and, concerningly, his right wing. He tried to unfurl his folded wing and felt a sharp sting of pain. Valo winced.

Holly rushed down the platform’s ladder, its ancient wood creaking sharply as she hurried over to him. When she got to him, her eyes darted over him, searching for injuries. To her relief, she didn’t find many—just a few patches of scales that were darkening a bit, to a deep maroon. Bruises, she figured.

“Valo!” Holly stepped onto the pile, sacks crunching beneath her boots. “Are you alright?”

Valo, still dizzied from the fall, nodded. He was a little shaken up, but he was alright.

“That didn’t go as badly as I thought…” Valo admitted.

“But it didn’t go as well as I hoped…” Holly hummed, chewing her lip and folding her arms.

Valo gave her a flat look. “I’d… call this a win.”

Holly pursed her lips, evidently disappointed. She’d always wanted to see a dragon fly up close. Growing up in the capital, she’d sit on the tall balconies of her home and watch dragons fly over the kingdom, arcing from one end of the sky to another, chasing the sun. Her eyes glimmered and her heart lifted at the memory. She’d always admired the way the dragons could fly wherever, whenever they wanted. Unlike her, they were free.

But she’d never seen a dragon fly up close. She’d never felt the wind from their wings battering her face and throwing her hair back. She’d never seen a dragon bobbed up to the sky, slowly shrinking before her and flying toward the horizon.

As Holly and Valo stomped off of the pile of sacks, they saw Gino marching over. He had a full rucksack bulging over his shoulder and a lute slung over his torso, strapped to his back.

“I’ve thought it over,” Gino volunteered. “We’re going to Grettle.”

Valo and Holly shared a look, and nodded.

Gino stuck a hand into his pocket. “But there’s something we need to do first…” He pulled his hand out, clutching a single gold coin. He tossed it to Valo.

Valo caught it, almost fumbling it. The coin was roughly forged, barely a circle, and its face was pressed with an unclear shape. It was dwarven, Holly noted, and recently forged by an inexperienced smith.

“What’s this for?” Holly tapped the coinpurse hanging from her belt. “I have enough gold for our supplies…”

“That isn’t for supplies, and it isn’t for us,” Gino explained. “It’s for Valo. It’s a tribute.”

Valo turned his head and looked at Gino. “I thought you already paid a tribute to me—the fish?”

Gino nodded. “Paying tribute once is a dwarf’s obligation.” He raised one finger. “All dwarves, regardless of their allegiance to a particular Dragonlord, pay one tribute to all dragons.” He raised a second finger. “But when a dwarf pays a second tribute to a dragon, then a bond is sealed.”

“And I become your Dragonlord?” Valo asked, still holding the coin in his open claw.

“And I become your herald—officially,” Gino said. “That means I serve you, and only you. I will enact your will.” He looked at Valo, a serious expression on his face. “But the bond between a Dragonlord and his herald is not just one-way. It goes both ways. I pledge myself to your service, and you pledge yourself to me and my kin.” He nodded back toward the obelisk—toward Alvarro. “If you accept this tribute, you have to do everything in your power to help Alvarro. And if you betray that bond…”

“I won’t,” Valo stated firmly, nodding. He clutched the coin. “I accept your tribute.”

As he uttered the words, he felt an overwhelming surge of energy come over him—just like the surges he felt when his Covetous Urge. But this time, they felt good. He didn’t feel the panic, the greed, the unshakable desire. This time, he experienced fulfillment, as though he’d just finished eating a satisfying meal.

And then, words flashed before his eyes.

Loot added to Lair: 1 gold

Passive Bonus granted!

Golden Touch (Lv. 1):

Each piece of gold added to your Lair(s) grants you an increased unconscious influence over others. Your commands become more powerful and your words more alluring. As you fill Ixiuul’s former Lair, so too you fill yourself with his authority.

Gino nodded. “Then let’s go see what Grettle knows.”