3 months later

I approached the city of Vallenport by boat. Vallenport was built on a series of islands on a lagoon, separated from the mainland by several kilometres of water. People, goods, and supplies arrived mostly by boat. Small vessels, gondolas, and larger merchant ships were used, depending on the purpose of the visit.

It was a small weather-beaten boat. The paint on the outside was fading in places. Revealing patches of blue, green and brown. It looked like an off coloured ladybug. The boat’s edges were lined with frayed rope and small charms that swayed gently, each charm an offering for safe passage: seashells, polished stones, and tiny glass orbs that glowed faintly in the mist.

It was well looked after though. The planks smooth and well oiled. There were just two of us on the boat. The owner and myself. The owner was a middle-aged sailor with skin tanned from years under the sun. His dark hair, streaked with silver, was tied back with a faded red scarf. He wore a simple shirt rolled up to his elbows. Tattooed symbols of protection peeked from his forearms—charms for a seafarer’s luck, and perhaps a mark of the Storm Shores.

I decided to leave the Dragon Sanctuary after a while. I had gone through all of the rooms. Sorted out all of the treasures. It got repetitive.

It took a while to sort out all of my options.

I needed somewhere with good food and a lot of restaurants, a big library, a lot of people and a magic school. Vallenport fit the bill.

I could have stayed in the the Dragon Sanctuary and repaired it. But it was boring. Having Azure there forced me to think about what I wanted.

What did I want?

To be the ultimate tourist. I had infinite time as a Dragon.

I picked somewhere for a home base and set off.

After I locked up the Dragon Sanctuary - reinforcing the barrier. I wiped the memories of the adventures and Azure. Dropping them off somewhere in the middle of nowhere.

The journey was uneventful. Fly at night. Sleep during the day.

Vallenport, was the capital city of the Elder Lands. The strange circular continent that we were living on.

It was a city of canals. An island built on the water. The city emerged from the mist, like a dreamscape.

The skyline was a blend of towering spires, crumbling stone towers, and elegant arches all floating. Sunlight filtered through the clouds, casting rays on the Grand Canal, the main artery of the city, flanked by smaller more narrow waterways. Bustling with small boats and gondolas. The main form of transport.

As we got closer, I smelled salt and spices in the air. As well as the stink of the water. Marshes nearby. I saw the harbours. Two of them. One with flat bottom barges and the other with large boats.

I asked the boatman about it.

‘The big boats are going to the Storm Shores.’

‘Storm Shores?’

‘A wild place. Imagine jagged cliffs and rocks that jut out from the waves like ancient, broken teeth. Storms roll in fast there, almost like they’re alive. The sky goes from clear to black in minutes, and when lightning strikes, it lights up those cliffs like something out of a dream. Thunder that you feel in your bones, you know?’

‘So why go there?’

‘The thrill—testing themselves against the raw, untamed edge of the world. But it’s not just the danger that draws people. The Storm Shores hold secrets, things you won’t find anywhere else. Storm Crystals. Treasures. The Storm Shores have claimed hundreds of vessels over the centuries, and some of them were loaded with treasures and artefacts from lost ages. People go searching for relics that the sea spits back out after a storm—coins, jewels, strange artefacts, and, sometimes, things that should probably stay buried.’

Treasure hunting. I smiled. I was in the right place.

Both harbours were busy. Long planks extended over the water. Stacked with crates of goods from distant lands. The smell of spices filled the air. The sounds of traders, dock workers and hawkers all selling stuff filled the air.

As I looked further into the city I could see the Arcane Bazaar. Stalls overflowing with artefacts, strange potions and wares — from the Storm Shores. So much colour and movement. I saw glittering fabrics, herbs and gemstones. Gondolas floating along the Grand Canal, filled with locals and travellers alike, adding to the lively and chaotic atmosphere.

Above the canals and towards the centre of the island was the Noble’s Rise. Its grand mansions and palatial estates were connected by sweeping stone bridges. Atop all of that, at the highest point of the city was the Royal Citadel. Its imposing silhouette stood against the sky, its spires piercing the clouds. Enchanted lights illuminate the city’s streets and bridges, casting a warm glow over the waterways as evening approaches.

The boat slowed as it got close to the Seafront Promenade. My eyes lit up. Restaurants and inns lined the water’s edge. Patrons sat by the water, eating and watching the boats drift pass. The [Singing Stones] along the promenade emitted soft, melodic hums that carried across the water, creating an otherworldly ambience.

We docked.

'Ain’t no city like Vallenport,' said the boatman the with a knowing smile. 'It’s got secrets older than the stones themselves. But don’t worry; the city takes a likin’ to those who respect her waters.'

I stepped off the boat. The stone walkway beneath my feet felt solid yet strangely alive. As if the city itself welcomed me to uncover its secrets.

With the sun setting. I picked a random inn and settled down for the night.

***

The next day and got up early asking around to find a real-estate agent.

Gold was still gold. No matter what age. It got stuff done, and I had a mountain of it left over from the Sanctuary.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

After explaining what I wanted - I was reassured by the agent that he knew exactly what I was after.

‘Let me tell ya, this is the one if you’re after something… with personality. And if you’re interested, ol’ Gordo here can help make it happen.’

I ended up on a gondola heading down a secluded waterway with a very short, fat and sweaty agent named Gordo. It was a small group of islands behind town called Whispering Grove.

It really was far away from everywhere.

"Ah, don’t mind the walls—it’s a bit rustic, but trust me, once you set eyes on this place, you’ll understand why." He punctuated every sentence by wiping his face.

I saw stone weathered walls. Softened by age. Draped in ivy, giving the building a classic look. The manor had a grand facade. Tall arched windows, intricate stonework around the doors and windows. The place had character..

We docked at a jetty far away from the place. The manor was on a small island at the edge of Whispering Grove, accessible only by a narrow rickety old wooden bridge that spanned a quiet, narrow canal.

We crossed the bridge. Then Gordo pulled out a key, wrestling an old arched metal gate open.

Towering trees surround the manor on all sides, casting dappled shadows over the structure, while a soft mist drifted across the grounds, giving the house a secluded, ethereal atmosphere, especially in the early morning.

'Now, I know what you’re thinking, ‘Gordo, isn’t that garden a little… wild?’ Well, yes! But that’s the charm! This is the kind of place where nature and magic decide what grows. Some of those plants even glow at night, so you don’t gotta waste a single candle in the garden. It’s practically got its own enchanted ambience!'

The gardens were in a state of abandonment, with wild herbs, tangled vines, and magical plants, grown unchecked over the years. The paths were hidden beneath the foliage, and rare flowers—some glowing faintly with magical energy—bloomed amidst the wilderness. The overgrown space was full small, magical creatures, giving it an enchanted, almost otherworldly feel.

The garden was overgrown. I liked it immediately.

I simply nodded along.

We walked to the entrance. A large wooden door with intricate carvings, now worn by time, opened into a small foyer. Though the house had fallen into disrepair, hints of its past grandeur could be seen in the remnants of carved wood, faded tapestries, and antique furniture.

‘Look at that old fireplace, eh? Can’t you just imagine it all polished up, roaring with warmth in the winter?’

It was big. Three stories. Ground for entertaining. Dining room, drawing room, two back parlours, servants quarters and guest bedroom. Upstairs for bedrooms and study. Top floor was storage.

An old classic manor. I liked it.

‘And the hidden cellar—now, don’t tell me that doesn’t catch your interest!’

I interrupted his spiel.

‘I’ll take it.’

‘You’ll take it?’ Gordo’s sweaty face seemed surprised. But didn’t ask any questions. He pulled out a gem and spoke quietly into it.

The notary arrived quickly. Contract signed. The money was exchanged. Everyone left quickly afterwards.

This crumbly old manor was home now. I had to go and get some new furniture. But first came the most important thing.

Lunch.

***

The restaurant was called the Giant Bird. They specialised in birds — obviously. Gordo had recommended it. Saying the omelettes and the chicken were both good.

I walked through the town enjoying the sights. The Crumbling Manor was located a bit out of the way. So I saw a lot of the town. The Seafront Promenade was the front of town, Nobles Rise and the Royal Citadel was the middle of town and my mansion was the back of town. So I had to walk through town, from back-to-front, around the Noble’s Rise to get to the Promenade.

Eventually I got bored of walking and flagged down a gondola. Sitting down. Enjoying the sun. It was a nice day.

I people watched. There were all kinds of magical species wandering round.

Humans. The most common. Some wearing elaborate robes. Scholars or mages. Others in practical clothes hauling goods or guiding gondolas through the narrow canals.

Elves. Tall. Slender. Robes with natural motifs — leaf patterns, vine and shimmering patterns. I saw them mostly in the scholars quarters.

Dwarves. Noisy bunch. Thick, braided beards and wearing work clothes. Leather aprons covered in pockets for tools or trinkets. Whether hammering away on a ship’s hull or enjoying a hearty drink at one of the canal-side taverns.

Beastmen — the most relevant to me. Mostly humanoid. Some with pointed ears, fur, horns. Some with wolf like faces. Feline or fox like forms. They moved differently. Leaping swiftly. Perching. Awkward gaits. The smaller ones were couriers or scouts. The larger ones were huge. Wrapped in protective gear. Merchants, magical consultants and bodyguards.

People probably thought I was a beastman too. I was normal human, tall, long black hair, red eyes. But I had huge horns. The transformation magic of this age was a joke.

I had spent a lot of effort. Achieving all kinds of distorted forms. I had become a dragon merman, two headed dragon, dragon centaur, dragonkin - on the top - dragonkin on the bottom. Every kind and variation of transformation.

But I couldn’t get rid of the horns. It was annoying. I looked like a Satyr. But it was a good disguise. Nobody I had talked to had thought I was a dragon. They thought I came from the South, Shimmerwind Desert.

Instead I pretended to be a small aristocrat from a forgotten tribe in the Shimmerwind desert. I was ‘Sir Thomas T’valor’.

I saw mermaids too with [Dragon’s Sight]. A glimpse of a fin, a few of them playing under boats.

Eventually I arrived at the Giant Bird.

The food in this world was incredible. The magic amplified. I remember the first thing I ate. I swallowed a boar whole while hunting.

I almost cried.

Cooked food. Well cooked food. Absolutely worth it.

It wasn’t a big place. It was small enough the owner greeted everyone who entered. Everything smelled good. I was shown to a table.

The menu was on the wall. Simple stuff.

Food:

Skyflame Fowl (Big)

Windfeather (Medium)

Whisperwing (Small)

Drinks:

Moonlit Elven Mead (Wine)

Stormbrew Ale (Beer)

Elderfire Elixir (Spirit)

Spirits

I ordered a Windfeather Roast and the Elderfire spirit.

The waitress - a beastman - cat ears sticking out - came out with the drink quickly ‘Here you go sir. One stiff drink.’

I thanked her and took a drink. It felt like flames going down my throat. A magical effect.

I sighed in happiness.

The roast was even better. The bird tasted like chicken and wind. I actually felt like I was a lazy breeze with every mouthful.

I finished my meal. Went shopping. My furniture would be delivered tomorrow.

***

Later that night. I was sitting in front of the fireplace. Juice in hand reading a grimoire.

Bang. Bang. Crash.

Someone broke my door.

They ran into the room I was sitting in. It was a party of four adventurers.

A young swordsman, another buff swordsman carrying with a great-sword, a woman in a red mages robe and a dark priest.

‘What is this about?’ I asked.

The four looked at each other. The buff swordsman spoke: ‘Someone actually bought this place — lets finish the job.’

The mage launched a spell. A wind spell which was surprising looking at her red robes.

I tossed a fireball back at her. She vanished in a cloud of dust.

‘The other three of the arty were stunned.

‘No, this isn’t right—,’ said the young swordsman. He seemed like the leader. ‘You’re supposed to be small-fry’

Fireball. He was dust also.

‘No —‘ said the buff swordsman. ‘The adventurers guild—‘

I fire-balled him mid sentence.

‘Should have thought of that before you popped up at my house this late at night.’

The dark priest turned into a shadow and tried to escape.

Impossible with my [Dragon Sight]. I tossed a perfect aimed fireball.

He was gone too. I waved my had - summoning the wind and moving the ash into the fireplace.

How annoying. I had been here for two days and people were already bothering me.

I had to get the door fixed as well. I’d sort it out tomorrow.