Chapter 12
It had been a month and I just emerged from my sleep, and my siblings were also waking up. At this stage, we would each find our separate lairs. Normally, chromatic dragon mothers throw out their young when they reach around 15 years old, but we were moving out early. It was safe enough, and we needed to start building our hoards. I’d heard that after emerging as a youngling, our responsibilities to the clan would increase. I knew one task involved taking care of hatchlings, but currently, all of them were at least wyrmlings. The only wyrmlings in our care were the three green dragons from the recent clutch.
As I was thinking this over, my siblings were fully awake. Zarothan was 401 centimeters, Vaelrath was 400 centimeters, and Zalyndre was 410 centimeters. I, however, was a whopping 8 meters long—twice the size of my siblings. I did the math: at one year old, I was 260 centimeters, and by two years old, I was 280. I’d grown 20 centimeters per year, and by the time I went into my sleep, I was 360 centimeters long. During my sleep, I had grown an incredible 440 centimeters.
"The almighty Dragon Mother, Azuron—you’re gigantic!" shouted Vaelrath, wide-eyed and slack-jawed as he finished inspecting himself. His outburst made the others turn their attention to me. Zarothan simply stared and said, "Indeed, he is," as if he’d been expecting it.
"What?! That’s not fair! How come Azuron gets to be so big and not me?" Zalyndre exclaimed, throwing a miniature tantrum. She probably realized that she had no chance against me in a fight now.
I puffed out my chest in pride, admiring my reflection in a nearby mirror. I had to admit, I was strikingly handsome by dragon standards—perfectly masculine horns, a long and thick body covered in beautifully ocean-colored scales, strong muscular wings, and a tail just the right length for a male dragon. "Maybe my variant not only increased my size but also improved my looks. Thank the Dragon Mother," I thought, praising myself.
"Nimbra’s quite lucky to have me as her eventual mate," I mused. Then I paused, surprised at myself. "Wait, since when did I think someone was lucky to have me as their mate? In my past life, I never thought that way, even when I had a girlfriend."
I supposed that living in a different body, with vastly different morals and surrounded by dragons, was bound to change my personality. Not to mention the thousands of years of memories from dragons who had always been dragons. It helped me adapt quickly to this new life, though I probably shouldn’t have gotten so used to this body and mindset. Despite everything, I was still kinder than most dragons would have been. My human memories gave me perspective.
While I was lost in thought, our mother entered the cave with the other younglings from the other clutch.
"Now that you have emerged as younglings, you will have more responsibilities to the clan. Follow me," she said.
As we walked, Vaelrath chatted with the other younglings while Zarothan and Zalyndre occasionally chimed in. I stayed silent, contemplating what new tasks we might be assigned. "Maybe we’ll be looking after the dragon beasts," I thought.
We eventually arrived at a massive cave where the dragon beasts were kept. There was a magical barrier and a crude fence surrounding the area, where around thirty dragon beasts roamed. Two of them were green, and I even recognized two of them as my beast siblings. They were both about two meters long, drake-like in appearance, lacking wings. Drakes were a subtype of dragon—intelligent, but not as proficient in magic as true dragons. They, like wyverns, hydras, and high kobolds, also shared dragon memories, but none could match dragons in magical prowess and physical might.
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As I studied the beasts, my mother explained their role.
"These are the dragon beasts. Some of them might look familiar—they were your siblings. You are responsible for feeding them. Like true dragons, they only need to eat about once a week. Your job is to ensure they are healthy and well-fed. We sell them to the kingdom, and they bring in a good amount of gold. You won’t be responsible for selling them—that’s for the adults—but you might need to help with their breeding. They go into heat once every 5 years, usually around June, and it lasts until the end of July. That’s usually managed by adolescent and juvenile dragons, but you might assist as well."
I glanced back at my beast siblings, feeling a pang of pity for them. To be born a dragon but reduced to a beast was truly a sad fate. Chromatic dragons often killed their beast-born offspring, while metallic dragons usually cared for them until adulthood. Gem dragons, it seemed, could go either way, depending on their moral alignment.
Afterward, we arrived at the beach. "You will also be allowed to raid and collect taxes from travelers, as well as raid pirate ships. How you split the loot is up to you—I don’t care, just figure it out," our mother said, scanning the area. "You’ll also be expected to hunt for the older dragons."
Some of the younglings looked like they wanted to protest, but they wisely kept silent. I, however, thought the task was ridiculous. "Why can’t those lazy bastards hunt for themselves?" I grumbled internally.
"That’s all for now," she concluded, before leaving us to sort out our new lives.
My siblings and I returned to the cave to gather our tiny hoards. "Well, I guess this is goodbye," Vaelrath said.
"It’s not like we’re never going to see each other again," Zarothan rolled his eyes. "We still live on the same beach."
"And Azuron, you better not slack off. I’m going to beat you one day," Zalyndre added.
"Yeah, right," I scoffed.
"Wait, is this cave still viable to live in?" Zarothan asked as we were about to leave.
"I don’t think so," I replied. "It’s meant for raising wyrmlings and hatchlings."
"But there are no hatchlings, and only three wyrmlings who already have their cave," Zarothan countered.
He had a point.
"Who’s going to take it?" Vaelrath interrupted.
We all glanced at each other before Zarothan sighed and said, "Logically, it should go to Azuron. He’s the biggest and needs the most room, and none of us could beat him in a challenge for it anyway."
He mumbled that last part to himself, but with our exceptional hearing, we all caught it.
Blue dragons like us usually created their caves with ground magic, especially since our preferred habitats—deserts if you’re without a clan, beaches if you’re in one—weren’t exactly filled with pre-built lairs. But that kind of cave-crafting ususually required a much deeper mastery of ground magic, something typically achieved by dragons 3 times our age at the earliest.
And so, my siblings headed off to find suitable locations for their hoards. They might even strike a deal with an older dragon to carve out a lair for them in exchange for a favor.
As I watched them leave, I felt a twinge of sadness. I’d miss the time we spent together. In my past life, I was human—a social creature still living with my family—and now, as a dragon, a much more solitary one. Luckily, I was part of a clan, which helped combat the loneliness.
I walked back into my cave, settled my hoard of silver, and marveled at how calming it felt against my paws and its wonderful smell no wonder dragons collected valuables if they were all this good. I drifted into sleep, ready to face the new responsibilities of a young dragon in the days ahead.