RUSTY

After they brought Jiwoo up to speed, the conversation turned to how Rusty was going to establish a lair, which would be necessary if his hoard was ever to increase beyond what he could effectively carry on his back. The [System] gave broad outlines, but once again, the exact method would depend on the class of dragon being referred to, and there were no entries on [Trash Dragons]. CWChat would only give basic information about other dragon classes. Gold and silver dragons, it seemed, could literally buy land from the current owners, and a [Flame Dragon] could make a lair wherever he had scorched the area of life and structures. There was also a general condition that whenever a dragon slept in the same place for more than a year, a portion of that locality based on the dragon’s size would automatically be designated as its lair.

“A year is too long,” Jiho said, “we don’t have a year.”

“Why not?” Seok asked.

Jiho threw his head back as if begging the gods to spare him from the stupidity of his companions. “Because he’s already been seen. Gobbos are going to come looking for him, or worse, humans. Someone, somewhere, must have put his egg here for a reason, and they are going to have their own plans for him that won’t involve me becoming the Great Goblin. A year is too long.”

The gang fell into a contemplative silence, each considering the potential ways for Rusty to establish his lair. After a few moments, Seok spoke up, "Maybe he has to defeat another dragon and take over their lair?"

"Or perform some kind of magic ritual?" Sooji offered, her gaze drifting around the den and its sundries.

"Or maybe," Jiwoo mused, a grin creeping across his toadish face, "he can just mark his territory the natural way.”

“How is he supposed to defeat another dragon?” Jiho snapped. “There are no other dragons in Midden.”

“Maybe not a dragon,” Seok said defensively, “but like…someone. He can take a den from someone. Fight for it. Then it would be his and the [System] would say so.”

“We don’t know that,” Jiho said. “None of the examples mentioned winning a lair that way.”

“It works for hoard stuff, though,” Seok persisted, “so why not?”

“What did you mean by the natural way?” Rusty asked Jiwoo.

“Pissing,” Jiwoo said brightly, “you’ve just got to piss everywhere.”

Jiho scoffed, his face contorted with disgust. "That's stupid and disgusting, grandfather. Don’t fill his head with your gobnuffin nonsense."

Jiwoo shrugged. "Animals mark their territory that way, and I must admit, peeing where I sleep always makes me feel more comfortable."

The other goblins stared at Jiwoo, aghast. Sooji's eyes narrowed, her voice dripping with contempt. "Is that why your bedding smells so rotten? Have you been marking your territory like an animal?"

“Like a king,” Jiwoo replied. “I do it like a king.”

“Is that how kings do it?” Seok asked, “I’ve always wondered.”

“No!” Jiho shouted. “No! That isn’t how kings do it.”

Rusty couldn't help but laugh at Jiwoo's confession and the horrified reactions it elicited. Despite the absurdity of the suggestion, he found himself considering it. Could something as simple as marking his territory really transform the den into his lair? Certainly, such an act could be considered in line with the aesthetic of a [Trash Dragon]. Rusty weighed the merits of the idea, and he felt that there had to be more to it than just peeing in his corner.

Deep in thought, he barely registered the bickering among his goblin friends as they debated the merits of Jiwoo’s idea, and his insistence that peeing where one slept was normal and proper for a goblin king, their voices rising in intensity. Rusty ignored it.

The fire had died down, though the smoke was still thick above their heads, and the gang was coming around to letting Rusty pee in the den to mark his territory. Jiho, however, had brought up another objection.

"If Rusty claims our den as his lair, would it really be ours anymore? I'm the leader here, and this is my den," he said firmly. “It wouldn’t feel right knowing it belonged to someone else.”

Sooji laughed. "Oh, please. You, leader? Don't make me sick. If anyone should decide whether Rusty makes our den his lair, it's me."

"Excuse me?" Jiho shot back, his eyes flashing with indignation. "Why do you think you're in charge?"

"Because I'm the only reasonable one here,” Sooji said, as if it was obvious. “You have some promising ideas, brother, but you have a habit of getting in your own way. Here we are discussing how to make Rusty the most powerful monster in Midden, and you’re worried that it would make you feel insecure.”

Jiho didn’t take kindly to this assertion, and the debate degenerated into a session of name-calling between the siblings that went on for several minutes until the senior goblin in the room had had enough.

"Shut your mouths!" Jiwoo barked; his dark green features wrinkling into a scowl. "We're getting nowhere with all this bellyaching. We’ll take a vote. All in favor of Rusty making our den his lair, raise your hands."

One by one, the goblins raised their hands, until even Jiho, who had been so vehemently against the idea earlier, begrudgingly lifted his arm. Sooji's eyes widened, her gaze darting between Jiho and Rusty.

"Jiho, seriously?" she said. "You were just saying how you didn't want Rusty to claim our den."

"True," Jiho admitted, scratching his chin. "But think about it. If the den is really mine, and Rusty makes it his lair, then that means Rusty will belong to me too."

Sooji rolled her eyes at his convoluted logic but said nothing further. Rusty felt a twinge of unease at Jiho's claim, uncomfortable at the thought of being considered someone else's property. He doubted the [System] would see it that way, however.

"Alright," Rusty sighed, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "If that's what you've decided, then I'll do my best to make this work."

He got up on all fours, looking around the den, then hesitated. “Where should I, uh…start marking?”

“Not in my area,” Seok said instantly.

“Everywhere,” Jiwoo said. “Douse this whole place, little dragon. Make it rain.”

“I suppose if you’ve been doing this the whole time,” Sooji said, “it couldn’t smell much worse than it already does.”

“Try hitting the corners,” Jiho said, “and see if that’s enough. It’s not like you haven’t urinated before, and the [System] hasn’t designated wherever you do that as your lair. Intent probably matters, though, so try to think about why you’re doing what you’re doing while you do it.”

“Okay,” Rusty said, shifting his feet nervously.

“What is it?” Jiwoo demanded. “Do you not have to go?”

“I can pee,” Rusty said, “but maybe, could you give me some privacy?”

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“It’s for the best,” Sooji agreed. “I don’t want to see this happen. Stay away from the bedding, please.”

The goblins shuffled out, and Seok even put the door in place behind them, so Rusty would have some privacy. Rusty took a deep breath and steeled himself for the task at hand. He circled the den, methodically marking each corner and crevice with a careful stream of urine. As he did so, he spoke to the [System] as if it was a person, explaining the reasoning behind his actions. The pungent odor permeated the air as he completed his circuit. With a final shudder, he hoped that this would be enough to satisfy the whims of the [System].

Rusty finished marking every corner and returned to Chul’s area. The scent of ammonia lingered in the air, but he tried not to think about it as he summoned his [System] screen once more. To his relief, a notification chimed as it popped onto his status screen. It sounded like a doorbell.

Congratulations, Rusty! You have successfully marked your first territory. This area is now recognized as a Lair [Nestling] under your dominion. Any materials from your hoard stored within this location will be secured and considered part of your hoard, even when you venture outside of this area. Your lair serves as a nexus for your power, allowing you to perform Material Integration at a faster rate, and providing an experience bonus when the integration is complete. The status of your lair may be upgraded through various achievements and milestones as your hoard grows and your territory expands but note that as a nestling, you are currently limited to a nestling class lair. Proceed with caution, as stronger dragons may attempt to claim your lair in the future, and adventurers have been known to target draconic lairs in the hopes of plundering their treasure. Good luck!

Rusty called in the goblins, who praised his success with a minimum of grumbling about the smell.

“Musty,” Jiwoo said, “not a bad flavor at all. I like it better than mine. You can try using my pillow next time.”

“Mother help us,” Sooji prayed, “you’re a putrid gobbo, grandfather.”

Getting right to business, Jiho clapped his hands to get the attention of the others. “Excellent. The [System] works. Now that this is Rusty’s lair, he doesn’t need to worry about gluing himself to an object to get it added to his hoard. Everyone needs to pick out something to give him. That way, by tomorrow, we’ll have a better idea of what kind of objects qualify as trash for the purposes of his class.”

Rusty’s Material Mastery skill was already giving him a sense of what counted and what didn’t. He got fuzzy feelings about most everything the goblins had collected for themselves, but not everything in the den. Their bedding didn’t seem to count, or the materials that formed the walls and ceiling, even though all of it was arguably trash of some kind. There were rules at play here that he didn’t understand, and the [System] couldn’t tell him what they were, because the [System] didn’t seem to think that [Trash Dragon]s existed.

“But I already gave him something,” Seok complained, standing protectively over his toy collection.

“Fine,” Jiho said, “but you’ll give him more once we know that this works.”

“You can still play with it if you want,” Rusty said. He didn’t want Seok to feel like he was really losing his treasures by gifting them to him.

“It wouldn’t be the same,” Seok sighed.

With the decision made, each goblin dug through their personal collections, searching for an item they were willing to part with. Jiwoo approached Rusty first, holding out a rotten egg with a lopsided grin.

"Here," he said, placing the egg in Rusty's outstretched claw. "This should be perfect for a [Trash Dragon] like you."

"Um, thanks?" Rusty replied, unsure how to feel about the gift. The stench was powerful, and he wondered where the elder goblin had been hiding it. If he kept it for long enough, hopefully, it would dry out. His material sense was telling him that the egg counted as treasure, for whatever reason, so he was going to hold on to it either way.

Jiho begrudgingly offered one of his old combs, its teeth worn and uneven from use, and Rusty formally thanked him for it. Last, Sooji presented Rusty with the bowl filled with broken colored glass. The shards caught the dim light of the guttering fire and cast a kaleidoscope of colors across the den's walls.

“You were looking at it before,” she said. “You should have it.”

"Thank you," Rusty murmured, carefully accepting each item. As he arranged the offerings around him, he noted the lingering warmth that seemed to cling to each item, a testament to the meaning these things had carried for their previous owners. The [System] recognized that the value of an object was inherently subjective, he realized, so all that it demanded of him was that the material he collected had been treasured by someone, because the act of treasuring is what makes mere stuff into treasure.

Rusty examined the motley collection around his claws. "Thank you," he said again, sincerely. "But where should I put all of this? When I start collecting things of my own, it’s going to take up a lot of space."

Jiho shrugged. “Chul’s area is your area. Take up as much space as you like. He has another hideaway anyway.”

Rusty spent a few minutes arranging his new hoard, treating each item as if it were a holy relic amid the chaos of Chul’s personal space. He carefully nestled the rotten egg among scraps of fabric he collected from the floor, while he placed the comb with reverence atop a worn-out cushion. The bowl of colored glass took a place of honor beside him. He liked the way it glittered.

The gang huddled together, their eyes fixed on Rusty and his growing hoard as they waited for something to happen. Moments ticked by, stretching into minutes, and still, there was no sign from the [System] that anything had changed.

"Right," Sooji said, clearing her throat. "It takes twenty-five hours for treasure to be added to a dragon's hoard. We'll just have to wait and see."

“He said it takes less time in a lair,” Jiho said, “but I suppose we should expect it to take the night at least.”

"Time for bed," Jiwoo declared. "It’s been a long day. All of you shut up and let me get my beauty sleep.”

“You’re going to need more than sleep to fix that face,” Sooji teased.

“Eye of the beholder,” Jiwoo grunted, kicking his bedding into shape before flopping down on his belly. A moment later, he was snoring, and the others followed his example. Rusty, surrounded by treasures, felt a deep sense of contentment welling within him. Jiho approached him, offering a vial of amber liquid.

“Do you want this?”

Rusty shook his head. “I feel okay. It was helping me sleep, but it also made me feel groggy, and made it kind of hard to think. What is it, anyway?”

“Medicine. A tincture of dankroot,” Jiho said, tucking the vial back into his netting. “It’s the same thing I give Jiwoo when he wants to forget things.”

Rusty felt it was unfair that he should have to forget anything, given that he had only been alive for less than a week, but it had made him feel better, even if he wasn’t sure why he had felt bad in the first place. He supposed that being born without parents around was traumatic in its own right, and he was grateful that the goblins had been there to adopt him into their gang, especially Chul.

“Why do you think the System doesn’t know about [Trash Dragon]s,” he asked. “There have to be others, right? Why do you think my parents left me here?”

“I don’t know,” Jiho admitted. “Dragons don’t share their secrets with goblins. They don’t really interact with the other races at all except to demand tribute. As far as I know, there’s only one or two other dragons on Elswyre. They’re big and dangerous and want nothing to do with a junkyard.”

“Elswyre?”

“The human island. It’s where we are.”

“Are there a lot of goblins on the human island?”

Jiho shook his head. “No, this isn’t our native land. Our people come from Ailond. Our ancestors were brought here, and the humans let us breed just enough to give their new heroes something to cut their teeth on.” He didn’t sound bitter at all. Despite the obvious injustice, he was simply reciting a fact. Rusty felt a wave of protectiveness come over him. He wouldn’t let his family lose their lives just so a few humans could gain experience. Humans sounded like the evilest creatures imaginable, evil to their core, if that was the way they treated the other races.

“I won’t let them get you,” Rusty said.

Jiho didn’t smile. He had a way of looking at other people like he was seeing something aside from flesh and blood, as if he was watching a show or reading a book instead of engaging with another living being. Rusty shivered.

“What about your dreams?” Jiho said.

“They made me feel bad,” Rusty said, “but I can’t make sense of them. When I wake up, it all just drifts out of my head.”

Jiho nodded. “Get some sleep, buddy. If the hoard mechanic works the way we think it does, things are going to get crazy real fast around here. Let me know if you need more of the juice, or if you have any thoughts that upset you or feel like they belong to someone else. I can help you with that, but you have to be honest with me about it.”

“Thanks, Jiho, I will.”

“Good.” Jiho returned to his own section of the den, which was cordoned off with a privacy curtain, and Rusty closed his eyes to get some rest. The leader of the gang could make him feel uncomfortable sometimes, but he recognized that though Jiho’s personality was off-putting, it didn’t mean he didn’t have the group's interests at heart. They were a family, they were his family, and he was grateful to have them. As he drifted toward sleep, he thought about humans. Images of a human family came and went in his mind, fragmented and indistinct. He saw a woman with sandy colored hair sitting beside him. She was napping, riding in the seat of a carriage that was impossibly fast. Past her, a landscape of buildings that were impossibly tall, all metal and glass, blurred by. Two children were in seats behind them. In the dream, or whatever it was, he was a human too. He had human hands gripping a leather wrapped wheel, controlling the direction of the carriage. There were lights ahead of them, terrible and bright.

His eyes shot open, and he felt his heart beating crazily in his chest. Hours had passed, and the fire was dead, but his eyes adjusted quickly. He felt afraid, and there was a tightness in his throat that was making it hard to breathe. His eyes were wet. He hadn’t known that dragons could cry.

When he looked up, Jiho was back, once again offering him the vial. He drank the tincture greedily, welcoming the drugged calm that came over him as he did so, and falling into a blessedly dreamless sleep.