Valor gradually woke up from a long nap. Catlike blue eyes blinked open, and nictitating membrane slid over them. The drake uncurled and stretched out in the sunny spot on top of their favorite slab of rock, and looked up at the human who had cast a shadow on them.
The young man in front of them frowned.
The two of them had recently secured enough funds to further upgrade their sleeping arrangement, which had previously been a particularly comfortable dirty rug, and before that had been piles of straw in a rented barn. Building a nest out of pillows and blankets had been their compromise; Valor wanted Waver in a bed, but didn’t want to sleep in a bed themself, and Waver wanted to sleep next to Valor.
In a stroke of terrible luck, the obnoxious petty noble who had wanted to tame skylights as a business venture hadn’t settled for merely paying Waver less for his disappointing results. Instead, Dame Linnaeus had taken an interest. After all, according to him, Waver’s report on the biology of skylights had proved that he was the real deal -- Waver had reported something that could only have come from the mouth of a dragon, or so the Dame believed. As a result, the noble had continued to nag Valor’s friend and partner until he agreed to set up a consultation business. Of course, the person who had referred Waver to the odious man had received a piece of Waver’s mind.
“Why would you sell me off to a man you can’t even restrain?” Waver had exasperatedly asked Ori. “He wants me to get into business as a drake talker. A drake talker!”
“What, you can’t wring a man like that for all he’s worth?” Ori had taunted him. “As long as you don’t actually call yourself a drake talker, you’ll stay respectable. The man’s gossiping will do the rest of the work for you. Besides, can you really complain about the results? Valor certainly looks happy.”
The drake had eyed her from the stone in their new yard. Using the initial funds their patron had given them, the two had worked hard to restore a dilapidated ranch house, which was far enough out of town that it wasn’t hard to source a good stone to lie down on. As happy as Valor had been before, they couldn’t deny that it was better than sleeping in the hay.
And so, Waver had registered a consulting firm using the drake’s name: “Valor Grotto.” It wasn’t subtle, but it was better than using the boy’s actual name.
Waver continued, interrupting Valor’s reflection.
The Sapient Temple, as it was called, was more of a records storage building than anything else. From history to political dogma to contracts and town bureaucracy, anything official would be stored in a temple or on the temple’s grounds. Someone with access to a few documents may have been overwhelmed by curiosity and jumped to conclusions. Mostly correct ones, too.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
Waver shifted uncomfortably. Valor knew their friend wasn’t certain how to feel about the overbearing girl. They decided to push a little harder.
Waver conceded.
Valor didn’t say anything. There was an uncomfortable silence.
As a drake, they couldn’t really be sure what was beautiful in a human and what wasn’t, but they were sure Waver must count. They’d seen how people look at him.
Waver nodded slowly, and hissed mildly. Naturally, unlike a cat’s hiss, there was no venom in it.
Valor joked, trying to cut the tension out of the conversation. Waver scratched his face idly, looking embarrassed.
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Weeks later, regardless of how the dux’s daughter might have wanted his work to look, Waver found himself scrubbing floors for one of the wealthy merchants.
The manor, despite its provenance, wasn’t overly gaudy. Grouted and glazed red bricks made up the floors Waver scrubbed, and the walls were a severe grey. Waver was rubbing a foul-smelling lacquer into the floors with all the dead determination of a serf in summertime.
In truth, Waver had already completed the request he’d come for. However, he couldn’t exactly tell his human employer that he was actually working for the house-pet, so he was stuck filling out the rest of the contract he took to meet his real client, who was, of course, a dragon.
The draconic rumor mill was much more extensive than any human could imagine. In a relatively dense town like Silfmont, a juicy tidbit of information could cross from one side to the other in under an hour without a single human noticing. Of course, this had no benefit to humans, or even in any tangible way dragons, but dragon speech was so easily ignored by humans that such an impressive information network could become well established without humans even knowing.
As such, while it took a while for Waver’s skills to be requested by humans, the rumor that “the dragon in town who masquerades as a human will be taking on requests in exchange for favors” barely left Valor’s lips and teeth before every dragon in Silfmont knew -- and in only a few days, the sphere of their reputation encompassed the entire duchy of Weave.
This was Waver’s stubborn condition for making use of his talent: he would not only use it to help humans. That he allowed the rumor of him being a dragon to continue was both a concession and an oversight.
Waver knew that there must be actual dragons who can take the form of humans, but such a dragon, he assumed, would be so elusive and mischievous that he doubted it would ever take requests.
This time, the spark-ling who lived in the manor was truly ill, and his family thought he was only misbehaving. The little dragon had begged Waver not to judge them too harshly, but it had left a bad taste in his mouth, even as he had paid the apothecary for the drugs his client needed.
And so, after finishing the final floor he needed to coat, Waver collected his money - barely enough to pay for the medicine - and went home.
Valor was already waiting for him there.