The question hung in the air, heavy with anticipation. Old Ben’s steady voice, tinged with both awe and the faintest tremor of fear, lingered in Jannet’s mind. What now? It was a question that seemed to carry more weight than its three simple syllables warranted, a question that opened doors to possibilities and risks Jannet hadn’t yet fully considered.

Jannet’s massive reptilian body lay sprawled on the ground in what he thought was a non-threatening posture. The gentle flick of his tail, meant to convey calmness, seemed to have the opposite effect. He watched the humans from behind his golden eyes, noting the nervous shifts in their postures, the way their gazes darted between his enormous frame and one another. Their scent told him all he needed to know: fear, yes, but also the faintest trace of curiosity.

The Sovereign Komodo flicked his tongue, tasting the mingled flavors of the moment. He felt no fear from Old Ben, the grizzled veteran who still gripped his spear but had yet to raise it in defense. Jannet respected that. The old man’s resolve was palpable, a steadying force that anchored the others, their panicked heartbeats thundering in his ears.

But what now? Indeed.

Jannet sifted through his memories, grasping for something—anything—from his previous life that might help. He had been a great housewife once, or so he told himself. Polite, deferential, always striving to keep the peace even in the face of Richard’s petty cruelty or Walter’s venomous arrogance. Could that same skill set apply here, in this moment where every muscle in the humans’ bodies screamed for flight?

His claws dug into the earth as he remembered one of his most basic, human instincts: smile. It was the universal gesture of friendliness, wasn’t it? A simple upward curve of the mouth meant to disarm and reassure. Of course!

He widened his mouth, exposing rows of serrated teeth as his lips curled into what he hoped was a welcoming grin.

The effect was immediate—and disastrous.

The humans recoiled visibly. Old Ben stiffened, his knuckles whitening around the shaft of his spear, while the younger men froze like startled deer. Jannet’s tongue flicked again, tasting the sudden spike of terror in the air. Even Jessica, the little girl who had seemed so fearless in her grandfather’s arms, buried her face in the old man’s shoulder, peeking out with wide, trembling eyes.

Okay, not smiling, Jannet thought, mentally noting the failure. It made sense. Smiles, after all, were a human thing—a mammalian thing. To these people, his display of teeth likely read as a threat, not an overture of peace. He would need another approach.

He inhaled deeply, forcing himself to calm his own instincts. His reptilian brain wanted short, clipped bursts of language, but the human part of him fought for something more thoughtful, more deliberate. “I mean you no harm,” he rumbled, his voice resonant and clear thanks to the Tongues ring. He saw the flicker of understanding in their faces, the words breaking through the haze of fear. “I come to talk.”

The effect was slow but steady. The villagers began to relax, if only slightly. Old Ben, ever the pragmatist, stepped forward with a careful nod, his eyes never leaving Jannet’s golden gaze. “Talk, then,” he said gruffly, his voice calm but tinged with cautious curiosity.

Jannet shifted his massive form slightly, easing the pressure on his limbs as he considered how best to proceed. His nature as a Sovereign—a creature of authority and order—had driven him to intervene on behalf of these people. Weakness exploited by strength disgusted him, and he could no more stand idly by than he could stop breathing.

“I am the Sovereign of Newscar,” he began, his tone formal and deliberate. The words rolled off his tongue with an authority that seemed to fill the air around him. “I could not allow weaker beings to be bullied and starved. It is against my very nature.”

The villagers exchanged glances, the fear in their eyes giving way to something else—something closer to reverence.

Old Ben tilted his head, studying the massive creature before him. “Sovereign of what, exactly?” he asked, his voice steady but curious.

Jannet considered the question carefully. His name—Jannet—was personal, tied to his lizard kin and his own identity. It was not something he felt inclined to share lightly, especially not with strangers. Some instinct told him names held power, and this one was his alone.

“I lead the lizards of Newscar,” he said finally, his voice even. “Our home lies deep in the jungle, in what was once a human settlement. We have reclaimed it, rebuilt it, and made it our own. We are a growing nation—a hatchling, perhaps, but one with strength and purpose.”

The villagers listened intently, their expressions a mixture of awe and disbelief. Even Old Ben seemed momentarily at a loss for words, his grip on his spear loosening as he processed the revelation.

Jannet continued, sensing the need to fill the silence. “Your kind called it a jungle nest, but to us, it is Newscar—a sanctuary for my people. We do not seek conflict with humans, but we will defend what is ours.”

“And you... came here to help us?” Old Ben asked, his voice quieter now, tinged with something Jannet could only describe as wariness.

Jannet tilted his head, his golden eyes meeting Ben’s. “I came south to seek strength,” he admitted, his tone thoughtful. “But strength is not just power. It is order, protection, and the ability to act when others cannot. When I saw what those men intended to do, I could not stand by and do nothing. You needed that food to survive, and they had no right to take it from you.”

The villagers murmured among themselves, their voices low but filled with a cautious hope. Jannet could taste the shift in the air, the fear that had once dominated now giving way to something softer.

“What should we call you?” Old Ben asked after a moment, his voice steady but respectful.

Jannet paused, considering the question. His mind flicked briefly to the system profile that occasionally updated in his mind—a relic of his old human life merged with his current one. The name Jannet felt too personal, too tied to his lizard kin. It was not something he was ready to share with these humans.

“I have no name,” he said finally, his tone measured. “I am the Sovereign of Newscar, and that is all you need to know.”

Old Ben nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “Fair enough, Sovereign,” he said. “But if you’ll forgive my curiosity—what now?”

Jannet’s gaze swept across the gathered villagers, their gaunt faces filled with a mixture of awe and hope. He felt the weight of their expectations, the silent plea for guidance that hung in the air.

“I will stay for a time,” he said finally, his voice calm but firm. “Your village needs stability, and I would see it restored before I continue my journey. Together, we can ensure that no one else takes what is yours.”

The villagers exchanged glances, their murmurs growing louder as they began to process his words. Old Ben, ever the pragmatist, nodded once more, his grip on his spear finally relaxing.

“Then we welcome you, Sovereign,” he said, his voice steady though his eyes darted to the others. “To our village, and to whatever comes next. But as you say we lack food and one of your size surely must eat a lot.”

“Yes” the sovereign responds coldly.

Jannet inclined his massive head, his golden eyes glinting in the fading light. Whatever came next, he would face it with the strength of a Sovereign and the resolve of a leader. For now, though, he would do what he had always done—protect those who could not protect themselves, and build something stronger from the ruins of what had been. Something The men in his previous life had failed to do for others, Jannet would never be like them.

Jannet remained a silent sentinel at the edge of the village, his massive form blending into the gathering shadows as the sun dipped below the horizon. For days now, he had stayed close, a protective presence that neither the villagers nor the remnants of the noble's forces dared to challenge. His golden eyes scanned the plains, watching for any signs of danger, his senses keen and alert.

The villagers had grown used to his presence—or at least as used to a Sovereign Komodo Dragon standing guard as they could be. Children peeked at him from behind fences, their curiosity overcoming their fear in fleeting moments. Adults gave him a wide berth, their gratitude mingled with unease. Jannet could taste the emotions in the air, the faint tang of fear mixed with hope, and he understood them both. His size alone made him a threat, but his actions had marked him as something more—a protector, perhaps, though the word felt strange even in his own mind.

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The days passed, the rhythms of the village continuing despite his looming presence. Jannet fed himself as he always had, hunting in the plains and stalking the rabbit-like creatures that darted through the tall grass. But the abundance he had grown accustomed to in Newscar was absent here. The rabbits, once plentiful, seemed to grow scarcer with each passing day, their trails more difficult to find. Hunger, a feeling he had not experienced in years, began to gnaw at him. His massive form required sustenance, and the lean pickings of the plains were no longer enough.

Still, he stayed. On the third day, the nobles returned, their procession visible from miles away as the sun glinted off their polished armor. Jannet positioned himself deliberately in the middle of the road leading to the village, his bulk a shadowy monolith against the horizon. The horses balked as they approached, their riders struggling to control them, the animals sensing the primal danger that emanated from him. The nobles turned back without a word, their retreat as hasty as their approach. Jannet watched them go, his tail flicking once in satisfaction.

That evening, as the first stars appeared in the sky, Old Ben approached him. The old soldier moved with purpose, his gait steady despite the weariness etched into his features. His spear was slung over his shoulder, more a walking stick than a weapon now, but his eyes were sharp and focused.

“Sovereign,” Ben said, inclining his head slightly. “May I speak with you?”

Jannet shifted, lowering his massive body into a relaxed posture. “You may,” he replied, his voice low and even.

Ben stepped closer, though not too close, his instincts as a mammal still wary of the reptilian presence before him. He glanced back toward the village, as if ensuring they were out of earshot, before speaking again.

“I’ve been wondering,” he began, his tone measured. “Are you... the creature? The one that defeated the duke’s men before the crocodile came? The villagers who knew survivors talk of it often—of a massive lizard, black as night, that attacked with a fury no one had ever seen.”

Jannet considered the question, his golden eyes meeting Ben’s without flinching. He thought back to that battle, to the chaos and blood and fire. To Lil guy nearly taken from them. To the lines of knights and soldiers who had come to destroy what they could not control. To the desperate, final stand that would have been their end if not for the arrival of the Ancient Noble Crocodile.

“Yes,” he said finally, his voice heavy with the weight of memory. “I am.”

Ben exhaled slowly, his grip on his spear tightening slightly. “They said you fought with a fury unknown in the jungle,” he said. “Forgive my ignorance but why? Why would a lizard risk himself like that?”

Jannet’s gaze drifted to the horizon, his thoughts a mix of instinct and reflection. “The humans came into our jungle and attacked,” he said. “Again and again, despite warnings. They hunted us, sought to destroy us simply because we existed. In the early days they nearly took Rose—our matron, our guide. I could not allow it. I would not allow it.”

His tail flicked once, the movement deliberate. “I fought to send a message. To protect my kin. To show them that the jungle was not theirs to claim. But it was not enough. We would have lost.”

Ben’s brow furrowed. “You mean...?”

Jannet nodded. “The crocodile. Without it, there would be no Newscar. The battle was already lost when it arrived. Its hunger was what saved us.”

The old soldier was silent for a long moment, his weathered face thoughtful. “And now?” he asked finally. “What is it you seek?”

“Strength,” Jannet said without hesitation. “Strength to protect the young, to ensure they do not face the same fate we nearly did. Strength to stand against those who would harm the innocent, as you do for Jessica.”

Ben’s eyes softened at the mention of his granddaughter, and he nodded slowly. “It’s a noble goal,” he said. “And a heavy burden.”

Jannet inclined his head. “It is one I accept. As I understand the weight of what happens when those that should instead refuse responsibility”

For a moment, neither spoke, the silence between them filled with the faint sounds of the village settling for the night. Then Ben straightened, his spear shifting on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For what you did for us. For what you’re doing.”

Jannet’s gaze returned to the old soldier, and he gave a small, deliberate nod. “Protect them well,” he said simply. “As I must protect mine.”

With that, Ben turned and made his way back toward the village, his steps slow but steady. Jannet watched him go, the weight of the conversation settling over him like the cool night air. The hunger gnawed at him still, but it was a distant thing now, overshadowed by the clarity of purpose that filled his mind.

Jannet called out to Ben “Goodbye friend, see me in Newscar in the years to come if danger besets you and you find yourself lost without hope.” and without waiting for a reply Jannet disappeared into the night.

Jannet slipped into the night like a shadow given form, his massive frame gliding silently through the tall grass that bordered the road. The faint rustle of the plains whispered in his ears, the cool night air settling over his scales like a shroud. His golden eyes scanned the horizon, his mind sharp with purpose. The humans who had fled would undoubtedly try again. Their kind always did, driven by greed and entitlement, much like the men he had known in his past life.

Jannet followed the same road the noblemen had taken, his massive form blending into the darkness. His senses remained on high alert, his tongue flicking occasionally to taste the air for signs of life. The scent of fear lingered faintly, a reminder of the nobles’ hurried retreat. But Jannet was no longer concerned with them alone; they were merely symptoms of a greater illness. He needed to find the source—the human nest from which they drew their arrogance and authority there he could find more answers.

As the hours stretched on, the road wound southward, its worn tracks a silent testimony to the countless feet and hooves that had traveled it before him. The stars overhead glittered like shards of broken glass, their cold light illuminating the vast emptiness of the plains. Jannet moved steadily, his hunger gnawing at him but his resolve keeping it at bay. He would find answers, and he would ensure that no harm came to the village he had left behind.

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Faferon wiped a bead of sweat from his brow as he sat slumped in his saddle, the motion of his horse rocking him uncomfortably. His polished armor, now tarnished with dirt and scratches from their retreat, weighed heavily on his shoulders. The men behind him rode in grim silence, their once-proud banners drooping in the still night air. The second cousin of the late Duke Fayeron cursed under his breath, spitting to clear the taste of bile that lingered.

That lizard. That beast. Faferon couldn’t shake the image from his mind—those glowing golden eyes, the massive black scales shimmering in the sun, the sheer presence of it. Reports had been circulating for years now, whispered among the surviving soldiers and common folk alike, of a monstrous lizard that had decimated the duke’s army and killed his cousin Fanfaron. And now it had reappeared, not just as some wild creature but as something worse: a thinking, speaking force.

And it had stopped him. Him, Faferon, second cousin to the duke, with authority granted by the crown itself—or so he had claimed. The lizard hadn’t just halted their operation; it had humiliated him in front of his men, and worse, it had forced him to abandon the grain he’d been so careful to skim. His teeth ground together as his thoughts spiraled.

This is not my fault, he told himself. His station—no, his very duty—had allowed him to sell off excess grain stores to neighboring kingdoms. The profits had funded lavish parties, bolstered his influence, and kept the local economy thriving. Everyone skimmed; it was an unspoken rule among the nobility. Why should he be punished for doing what all nobles did?

The answer was obvious. The lizards. Those fucking lizards.

His lip curled in disgust as he thought about the damage they had wrought. They had brought the kingdom to its knees, their attacks weakening the crown’s grip on the region. And now, because of their interference, the grain shipments were gone. The neighboring villages had nothing left to give, drained dry by the nobles and the crown alike. The duke would demand answers, demand restitution, and Faferon had nothing to show for his efforts but shame and failure.

The bile rose again in his throat, and he spat angrily, the taste of his own ineptitude bitter on his tongue. He needed a new plan, something to salvage the situation. Perhaps he could blame the villagers—accuse them of hiding their stores or conspiring with the lizards. Or maybe he could find a scapegoat among his own men, someone to take the fall for his failures. Yes, that could work. It had to.

His eyes scanned the dark horizon, the empty plains stretching endlessly before them. Somewhere out there, he knew, the lizard was watching. Waiting. The thought sent a shiver down his spine, though he would never admit it. He straightened in his saddle, forcing his mind to focus. He would not let this creature—or the duke—be his undoing. There were always other ways to claw his way back to favor. Always.

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Time passed and days later still the scent of the noble’s sweat and fear lingered faintly in the air as Jannet tracked their path. His reptilian senses, honed to perfection, picked up every disturbance—the faint impressions of hooves in the dirt, the occasional broken blade of grass, the lingering acrid tang of their frustration and shame. They were moving south, and Jannet knew they would eventually lead him to a larger human settlement.

As he moved, his thoughts drifted to the village he had left behind. The fear and awe in their eyes, the tentative trust they had placed in him—it stirred something deep within him, a sense of responsibility he couldn’t quite explain. He was not their savior, nor did he wish to be, but he would not allow them to suffer the consequences of human greed.

The plains began to shift subtly as the road descended into a shallow valley, the grasses thinning and giving way to patches of rocky ground. The air grew cooler, the wind carrying faint hints of smoke and the metallic tang of civilization. Jannet’s tongue flicked out, tasting the change. He was getting closer.

As dawn approached, the horizon revealed the faint outline of a settlement—a cluster of wooden structures huddled together, their roofs dark against the pale morning sky. Smoke rose from scattered chimneys, the signs of human life stirring within. Jannet paused, his massive form blending into the shadows as he observed from a distance.

He would wait. He would watch. And when the time came, he would act. For now, the gnawing hunger in his stomach was secondary to the hunger for answers, for strength, and for the assurance that no one—not the villagers he had left behind, nor the lizards of Newscar—would ever fall prey to the weak cruelty of men like Richard or Walter again.