Satisfied, Sisal put her sword down on the table and reached for the soup bowl. The chair creaked from her weight shifting. The stock pot was large enough to fit her in it two times. It took a lot of soup to feed a dragon, also made it easier to drop in a whole beast in the pot - or a person. She placed her hand on the hearth and muttered a prayer of keeping her safe again. She said the same prayer yesterday and all the days leading up to this mission, multiple times. Spirit of the sun, keep me safe; cycle of magic, life, and death, embrace me. Her sweaty handprint lingered on the hearth before it evaporated from the heat building of the fire. A small outline remained, with the dust now moved. “You promise this isn’t made from any people- dwarf, human, or orc?”

“Nothing of the sort!” The dragon’s eyes widen in horror at the remark, more of a reaction than when she stabbed its eye earlier. “Let me find you the recipe sheet. But with two eyes. Give me one moment.”

Far above where she could reach, a few barrels sat on a shelf, each painted with even more flying lizard designs. She watched the dragon pierce the lid with one claw and chug a red shimmering liquid that looked like the concentrate of a life saving elixir in her bag. Her potion cost her over a hundred gold. One barrel alone would be years of income for her. The dragon sighed and threw the barrel in the fire. It popped and sparkled with the new fuel.

“Now, where did I leave that paper?” With time, the injury on its back healed, the swelling diminished. He horded the elixir worse than Elmeagit did with her liquor at the tavern.

While she waited, she studied the soup. The smell was earthy and deep with a bone broth, a small amount of fat bubbles gathered on the surface. Darlingly, she took the smallest sip of the soup. She paused, licked her lips and then chugged the whole thing. She looked over at the pot, its black metal reflecting the flames. Vakandi twisted the stand to keep the soup off from being cooked too much. He returned looking for the paper. She climbed a set of stairs near the pot and grabbed the spoon designed for a dragon. It was as tall as her making it awkward to hold and serve. She put the bowl on the table. Because of its uneven weight, it wobbled, but stopped by the time she climbed back up the stairs. Cheap bowl for such a rich dragon. At least its soup was amazing. As she poured, and accidentally over-poured, the bowl danced about.

“What magic is in this? It’s the richest broth I have ever had.”

“No magic. Only time. All good things are made with time.”

“You are a dragon with endless time.”

Vakandi chuckled. “With that logic, then I must be very good.”

“Yet, you live like this. Why have dull trinkets?” The beast needed its ego popped. She pointed to the broken bowl near her and then to the moonstone. “Why haven’t you built a home out of something better than shale? Like use more of the rare moonstones like that and melt your gold to line the hall?”

In the corner of the cave by some feathers, it tucked its feet under and lowered its head down. “I like how the earth feels. I draw my power from it and feel its voice. Moonstone? I can not communicate with the stars. I hear the whimsical jokes in the wind when I fly. The fire is my kindred soul, warmth and comforting. Gold is inert to me. Also, it would be rude if I melted the gold that belonged to the Golden Essence. I’m only securing it for them. I have never lost a coin to a thief!”

“That hoard in the entrance is the legendary vault of the Golden Essence?” She barked out a laugh. “They’ve caught so many thieves trying to break in and steal from their vault. Each one reported it was mostly empty. Guess those thieves were telling the truth.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Oh dear. Has that been happening? Forgot about the note I wanted you to send later. Do you, by chance, have a bag of endless space on you? I’ll be needing some gold delivered to the bank.”

A thin smile stretched across her face. “Of course. I will gladly take the gold.”

With that gold, it would set her for life, so would her niece and nephew and all their friends. Her parents would live comfortably and could get off her back about doing adventuring, because she would finally focus on a craft. She sipped more soup to hide the smile. The endless hunting missions for the guild could stop and actually choose which one she wanted. A life to sit at home and read some books. To finally have time to pick up the guitar and take music lessons, maybe even singing lessons, off in another country. The rest of the gold she had no clue what to do with. The possibilities were endless. They pretty little coins could sit in her bag ready for whenever. They did not need any answer now.

Yet, holding that hoard of gold would make her no different than a dragon, holding on to a treasure and not using it. Even this dragon was concerned about hearing the bank was out of money and was sending the gold home. With that much wealth in her bag ,it was too easy to be selfish. A dragon would not have higher morals than her.

Keeping it could ruin the Golden Essence, where almost everyone kept their gold safe. She would return the gold to the bank, every coin. Only at the cost of them telling her the truth as to why they entrusted the nation of Vakfored’s gold with a dragon.

The monstrous beast shifted next to her, its curled up tail twitching. It smirked down at her, eyes glistening as if it had read her thoughts.

You will die. And if there is any corruption in the Bank, I will find it. She scowled up at him, hoping he heard that message and kept its intrusive prodding out.

“My, you must be bad at card games with all those facial expressions.”

“Were you reading my thoughts?”

The dragon overly exaggerated tilting its head, that it almost bumped into the wall and its snout came near her. “You’re a successful hunter because you’re always prepared. What did your research tell you?”

“That you’re stubborn. Selfish. A traitor.”

It sat up straighter. “Thorough. And nothing about telepathic abilities.”

She opened her mouth to continue, but it continued. “Let’s start with the first story before we lose any more time. It is why there are so many ceramics here and in Vakfored.”

Inclining the bowl in her hand, careful to not lose her breakfast, she studied the pottery mark to see who signed it. A pickaxe crossed with a crutch. The first symbol any School of the Arts taught. The origin of ceramics and making a name in the art world internationally. They named multiple places in the city after him and his icon. “Is this a Bedruk Oresword bowl?”

“Yes, one of his early ones. You can see his thumbprints all over the place. It’s when he used to do a coil method, too. He became such a great potter with time.” More pride beamed off its face, taking credit for someone else’s work.

She quickly chugged the soup and looked for the nearest tub. “Why isn’t this in a museum? Why is it being used to serve soup? Where is your water?”

The dragon chuckled, pointing behind him with one foot. “Please, this is what Bedruk wanted the bowl used for, sharing meals together. Most of the food bowls are his early works. Note, his later ones are when he mastered the coloring glaze.”

“Not comforting. I’m done having soup.” She found the water pump and tub near where he pointed. Quickly she grabbed the lever and pumped the water. Unlike the spoon, it was to her size. The dragon would have had an impossible time using it. “Why do you have running water?”

“For my guests to have. Built eight hundred years ago.”

Running water for its guests… not itself. Her research for this mission was completely inaccurate.

“I need a drink and not in something historical.” Though in the beast’s lair, that seemed to be unlikely. The soup fortunately rinsed off the bowl easily. She put her head under the water as she pumped, a cold metal taste coming to her. A whiskey would be better. Turning around, she looked at the broken bowl near the hearth caused by her reckless attitude earlier.

“Would you care for any wine? It’s vintage.” It inquired.

“I am certain it’s more vinegar.”

“It’s the perfect flavour profile for your mood.”

That silenced her before a small snort emitted from her lips. She waved a hand. “Go on with your story.”