The dwarves descended on the pair, like morning dew onto blades of grass. Their forms blocked out most of the light and drenched Valo and Holly in their small shadows. The dwarves may have been small in stature, but this many of them would intimidate anyone. They stared at Valo, eyes wide with amazement and shock, beer foam still dripping down their beards.

“Is that…” one of them muttered, “a dragon?”

“The dragons have returned!” another muttered. “Alvarro did it!”

“They’re back!”

The crowd’s murmurs started as a trickle, but now, they were gushing forth. They declared the Dark Age—what was meant by that, Valo wasn’t sure—was over. Cheers slowly began to rise from them.

And, in a sudden wave, the dwarves all fell to their knees, bowing around Valo. They remained there, unmoving.

Valo and Holly exchanged a look, unsure what the dwarves were waiting for.

Holly leaned closer to Valo. “I think you’re supposed to tell them when to get up,” she said. Though, the way she said it made it sound less like a guess and more like a statement. Did Holly know more about dwarves than she let on?

“Uh…” Valo began, scanning the crowd, “you may rise.”

And in a steady cascade, the dwarves did.

Looking at them, Valo could tell that they were bursting to ask him questions—bursting to probe him for answers he didn’t have. A few of them began to edge even closer—uncomfortably close.

All of them looked just as Valo had in the heat of his Covetous Urge. They looked at him like a God descended, and, at the same time, like a wolf might look at a limping deer.

But, thankfully, one of the dwarves tempered their fervor before things got out of hand.

“Ahem.”

At first, the dwarves didn’t listen, so the dwarf who’d spoken raised his voice and sharpened his tone.

“Oi!” he spat from the back of the crowd. “Everyone—go about your business. Now.”

And this time, the crowd jumped at his words, as though they recognized his voice.

And they weren’t the only ones who knew his voice.

Valo and Holly recognized it, too—vaguely. It sounded different now, given that the dwarf wasn’t singing now.

It was the bard’s voice.

And the crowd was listening to him. The dwarves slowly began to disperse; they returned to their stools at their warm ale, to their pie now cold on their tables. After a moment, it was just as it had been before Valo popped up out of Holly’s rucksack—aside from a few murmurs and eager, excited glances in their direction.

Holly let out a breath. Valo wasn’t sure she’d breathed during that whole encounter. He glanced down and saw her hand curled around the knife sheathed at her belt, her knuckles white. She let out a long sigh and relaxed her grip—then snapped her gaze over at Valo.

“What the hells, Valo?!” she exclaimed, not bothering to contain her voice any longer. “You can’t just pop up like that!”

Valo’s gaze drifted down. “I know… I just… I wanted the whisky.”

“I know you wanted it,” Holly said. “But that doesn’t mean you can just…” She sighed, remembering that he was still young.

Valo nodded solemnly. He knew she was right. He knew he couldn’t just leap out and grab what he wanted. But when his Covetous Urge spurred within him, it was all-consuming. He lost all control over himself.

But could he learn to control himself? Could he learn to tame his Covetous Urge? After all, it was a Skill, just like his Fire Breath—and he could control that. He could choose when he breathed fire; he didn’t just involuntarily burp flames. Perhaps Valo could learn the same control over his Covetous Urge?

Then again, he could not control his Dragon Tongue. He just understood all languages; he couldn’t choose not to understand them.

He hoped Covetous Urge was more like Fire Breath than Dragon Tongue. If he didn’t learn to control his Covetous Urge, this wouldn’t be the last time it got them into trouble. He didn’t mind the trouble when it came to his own sake—but seeing Holly so fearful, so anxious sent a shudder through Valo’s heart. They hadn’t known one another long, but she was the first person to show him kindness in his young life, and he couldn’t stomach the thought of repaying it by getting her hurt or robbed…

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Or worse.

As the tavern slowly returned to its hum—now slightly more charged, more fervent after Valo’s presence became known—Valo and Holly sat in tense silence.

Until a dwarf marched up to their tableside. Instinctively, Holly’s hand slipped down to her dagger’s hilt, ready to respond.

But when she realized precisely which dwarf was walking up to their table, she relaxed—just slightly. She hadn’t relaxed since she’d left home, and she wasn’t about to start while she was accompanying a dragon and surrounded by dwarves.

The dwarf that stood before her was the bard—the one who’d gotten the others to return to their business and leave Holly and Valo alone. Evidently, he was some kind of leader to them—though one would not guess that judging by his, frankly, awful singing.

“A real dragon…” The bard huffed. “That madman Alvarro must’ve been…” he muttered, trailing off.

Holly paused, then nodded, her eyes darting over his form, keenly watching for any sudden movements.

The bard shifted slightly. “How rude of me.” He offered a slight bow to Valo, then stuck out a hand at Holly. “Gindrelo Ozmoroneolio, at your beckoning.” He winked. “Gino, for short.”

Holly cautiously extended her own hand—her left hand. She kept her right hand firmly on her dagger’s hilt. “Holly Halzfire.”

“Halzfire…” Gino chuckled softly. “You humans have such curious names. Where are you from?”

“East,” Holly answered simply—vaguely. She wasn’t sure what he wanted, so she didn’t want to reveal more than she had to.

“East… Curious.” Gino gestured to the bench opposite Holly and Valo. “May I?”

Holly opened her mouth to speak—but as she did, she noticed that the dwarf’s gaze drifted away from her and onto Valo. Gino wasn’t asking her for permission, she realized—he was asking Valo.

Holly glanced down at the young dragon, meeting his eye.

Valo nodded slowly. “You may.”

Gino slid onto the bench with surprising grace, his small, burly form fitting far more easily than Holly had. The dwarf had a thick red beard, streaked through with slivers of gray. He had bright, friendly blue eyes, and pale skin. His long hair was tied back, stabbed through with a metal spike to keep it in place.

“And you are…?” Gino said, leaning closer. His eyes were fixed on Valo.

“V-Valo,” the young dragon answered.

“You honor me, Valo.” Gino bowed his head.

“How so?” Valo asked, leaning onto the table with his paws.

Gino raised his hands, gesturing at the tavern around him. “This is my place—the Drunken Miner.” He shrugged. “Well, mine, Lucia’s, and Gozmo’s.” He nodded at the dwarven woman behind the bar. “Bard, taverness, and chef. What more does a tavern need?”

Gino had asked that rhetorically, but half a dozen improvements flashed across Holly’s mind—beginning, of course, with the nearly inedible pie in front of her, the undrinkable pepper-beer, and the off-tune lute playing that had filled the tavern until Gino had come to sit opposite them.

Valo, however, simply nodded thoughtfully.

“I didn’t know dwarves had such… varied occupations,” Holly said, quirking a brow. “I thought you were all, y’know, miners, merchants, traders…” She pursed her lips and tensed. “No offense.”

“None taken.” Gino waved a hand. “A few years ago, you would’ve been correct—miners, merchants, traders. Dwarves who dig gold up from the ground. Dwarves who buy and sell goods for gold. Dwarves who trek vast distances with silk and spices on their backs for…” He gestured at Holly and Valo.

“Gold,” Holly and Valo said simultaneously, nodding.

Gino nodded. “Gold which we acquired with the express purpose of paying tribute to dragons.” He glanced at Valo. “That was what a dwarf was, a few years ago—a vassal of the dragonlords.”

“That sounds… sad,” Holly said, furrowing her brow.

“Oh, no,” Gino said, smiling slightly. “Anything but. We loved it. The thrill of the hunt and the joy of adding to our dragonlord’s Lair…” He smiled fondly, shaking his head. “The bliss of faithful service. We all served gladly.” He raised a hand. “But without dragons, what use is gold?”

Holly could think of a few uses. Valo, on the other hand, could not. The young dragon didn’t truly understand money. He knew what it was, technically, thanks to his Dragon Tongue. But he didn’t know why a pie cost a few coppers and paper a whole gold piece. He didn’t know why people wanted gold, nor what they actually did with it—aside from keeping them in tiny leather purses for weeks on end.

“That,” Gino continued, “is our present conundrum. Without our dragonlords, we… have no one to serve. Nothing to serve.” He pursed his lips, looking a little saddened—hollow, even—at the admission. “Nothing except ourselves. Our ambitions.”

“Being… a bard?” Holly asked.

“A bard,” Gino explained, “a chef, a brewer…” He waved a hand. “A smith. A carpenter. A barber.” He let out a sigh, smiling. “Dwarves who’ve seen the sun only a few times in their long lives are now slaving under it making ceremonial swords, tables, hunting deer…” He shrugged. “Times changed, and the dwarves had to change with them.” He sighed. “Most of us for the better. Some of us, though…”

Valo tilted his head, curious.

“There’s something you need to see,” Gino said, meeting Valo’s eye.

Gino got up and waved Holly and Valo over as he turned toward a door in the back of the tavern.

But Holly stayed seated, eyeing Gino as he walked. Her grip on her dagger relaxed—slightly—but she was still ready to fight, should the need arise. She scanned her surroundings, then considered following after Gino. She glanced down at Valo.

Valo nodded.

“Are you sure?” Holly asked, lowering her voice. “We just met him. We don’t know what’s lurking behind that door. It could be a trap.”

Valo hummed, thinking it over with a claw stroking his scaly chin. “If they wanted to hurt us…” he reasoned, “then wouldn’t they already have?”

Holly paused. Valo was right on that front—but she still couldn’t shake the possibility of it being a trap. Frankly, she simply didn’t trust these dwarves.

But if anyone knew anything that’d help Valo in his quest, it would be the dwarves. Soliciting their help was certainly better than trying with the elves. Holly shuddered at the memory of her lone encounter with an elf party—an encounter she hoped not to repeat.