To put things lightly, it had been a long-ass day. By the crack of noon on the following day since this whole shitshow began, I was finally home, a sleepy Chooka cradled in my arms as I carried her exhausted body to our bed. As a dragon, I do not sleep often, but after the events of the previous day, I felt bushed. We soon found ourselves cuddled together, me on my back and Chooka to my side, her head resting on my chest. Skull mirrored her, and together, we caught a few winks.

  I dreamed I was a dungeon, one plotting to lure in Adventurers and challenge their skill with the allure of treasure and the secret promise of a gruesome death. Sneaky traps, clever ambushes, absolutely dickish floorplans, and wildly unfair monsters were the mainstays of my craft as I schemed my way towards success. The small fry were allowed to live, collect their loot, and leave to spread word about riches ripe for the taking, while those laden with expensive equipment were quietly killed in dark corridors, their personal effects offered as tribute to my ever-growing appetites for shiny new loot of my own.

  I woke in a sweat, which is in and of itself peculiar, since, generally speaking, dragons do not perspire. I knew that I had experienced no mere dream, but rather, a vivid memory of a past life. Most of my dreams these days were of past lives, each one more clear than the last. I had been good, I had been evil, but more often than not, I was just trying to make my way in the world and look after those I cared about.

  As a dragon, I don’t dwell too often or long on the moral implications of my actions. If anything, I mostly feel bad that I don’t have such qualms, but that part of me that screamed that I should care tended to find itself swallowed by the apathetic silence of the rest of me. Take the dream for example; I didn’t force the Adventurers to try to pillage the dungeon that was me. They knew the risks and chased after their own greed to take that which was not theirs. I simply defended myself and looked after my own interests, and so, for both me of the past and the me of present, it was an open-and-close case where I was in the right.

  A moment of apprehension flowed through me, that perhaps the dream was a premonition. With so many dragons skulking about my territory, perhaps one had ventured where it ought not. I spun off a [Parallel Mind] to examine my connection to each and every object in my [Hoard], and another to review every [Observer] and [Overseer] I had stationed around the city. Despite the sudden awakening, I felt rested, if not a little on edge, and so I busied myself with an audit of my holdings. I found nothing amiss, but that did not mean that trouble didn’t lurk around every corner.

  Skull, perhaps sensing my hyper-focused state, likewise woke up. She carefully wiggled her way out of bed so as to not disturb Chooka, and I likewise untethered myself from my favorite lover’s embrace so that I may face the challenges of the new day. Another [Parallel Mind] was spun off to go down the rabbit hole of how I hope Chooka will become my bonded companion soon so that she doesn’t need to sleep as much, all so that we can spend more time together.

  I feel a little bad about how I have so many obligations and desires contesting for my attention, and how she is not getting the lion’s share of it. She reassures me that she is very happy with the way things are between us, and so I am left to trust her and needlessly carry around this burden of guilt of my own making.

  I was about to spin off another [Parallel Mind] to consider what special thing I could do for Chooka to show her how much I love her when one [Parallel Mind] tugged at my primary consciousness and demanded my attention to something interesting. Through an [Observer], I detected a carriage passing through the main gates, one with heraldry and colors that I found myself familiar with. Perhaps this would do the trick if I played my cards right. I know Chooka has a few pages in her little black book that are reserved for particular triumphs, and one just rolled into town. A small smile adorned my face as Skull and I silently made our way to investigate.

  After two weeks of travel, even the most comfortable of carriages had become more of a tomb than a luxury of transportation. The roads had been impeccably smooth, the journey deplorably uneventful in that nothing had attacked us at all. I had no opportunity to cut loose, no chance to show off my skills for my lady and mentor, no means to relieve the boredom that not even all of our books and games could quell. However, a new city, both to my own perspectives and indeed in its construction, should provide me with some form of stimuli.

  “We have arrived, Lady Starweaver,” I heard the coachman announce to us after we came to a stop. I opened the door and hopped out, taking position to defend my lady in the event someone should ambush her. The coachman, old but capable, slowly made his way over to deploy some stairs for my awaiting lady, so that she may descend from her carriage with the appropriate level of decorum as befitting her station.

  The other three carriages and the baggage wagon were behind ours, each unloading in a similar fashion. Silver masks, each a mirror of my own, obscured the faces of the other handmaidens that attended to Lady Starweaver. However, no number of masks could conceal the jealousy that radiated from those who thought themselves discreet, for they chafed at the idea that I would be favored by Lady Starweaver and made to personally attend to her during our journey. They may proclaim me a ‘protegee’ in polite company, but they show me cold indifference at best the rest of the time. And so I found myself alone at the end of the world.

  “The stars have aligned for our fortune,” exclaimed my equally tired Lady Starweaver as she descended the stairs with unparalleled grace and poise despite how still her muscles must feel after such a journey. “All the better to have arrived in good company,” she continued as she stroked a hand through my carmine hair with motherly affection, the tip of her finger brushing lightly against the yellow lotus that had been gifted to me all those years ago.

  “You honor me, Lady Starweaver,” I reply with a slight bow, my mask working overtime to obscure my blushing face.

  “Nonsense, dear!” she lightly chided as she lifted my chin with her finger. “I thought these past couple years and our time together on this journey would do much to lessen how formal you are with me, but perhaps I will need to take more drastic measures, preferably later tonight if fortune finds me favorable.”

  I admit that I knew not what she alluded to. Perhaps she wanted to lounge at a salon somewhere and catch up on local gossip, for she had always been the pinnacle of propriety when I had been on shift to attend to her. But this was a new city, far from the prying eyes of Berkerin [Nobles] and other busybodies vying for position and status. Well, at least the ones my lady was forced to rub elbows with upon occasion. Perhaps her more adventurous side called to her. In that case, we might visit a racetrack or something equally risqué.

  “Now, let us make haste for our lodgings, so that we may all rest before the affairs of the evening. I expect you to accompany me this evening, so you best refresh yourself.”

  Without another word, Lady Starweaver made her way inside of the… inn? The building, far too fancy and large to be such a pedestrian establishment, must be some sort of grand hotel. I have heard the architecture style described as ‘Gothic’, but no drawings or descriptions had prepared me for the size and splendor that awaited me. Fine details were layered one over another, lifelike statues and opulent reliefs adorned every surface, some recognizable as famous heroes of legend, the others a mystery. And this building was much the same as the rest, each one dwarfing those of Berkerin in size, majesty, and beauty.

  The other attendants would collect her luggage and mine, and sadly, I was at the mercy of misplaced trust in them that I would not find scorpions in my smallclothes again. I found no humor in it the first time, nor the fifth, but apparently, persistence was more of their virtue than wit.

  While I could sit outside and look at the architecture for days, the inside took my breath away. Marble floors in a checkerboard of black and white were the first thing I noticed, followed by the walls covered in murals and depictions of famous battles or feats of magical discovery. No candles or torches lit the room, but rather, a crystal chandelier seemingly emanated its own light. Some sort of fancy illuminator, a feat of enchanting that one rarely found in Berkerin.

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  I had rarely seen kobolds before coming to this city, but they were everywhere around here. With a ring of a bell, one hopped up off a bench and attended to our luggage, the whole of it seemingly sucked into a pane of blackness and banished from the material world. We were promptly shown to our room by the little kobold, which, upon interacting with one in person, I found to be more than a little adorable. Our luggage was returned to us, and dressed in his sharp red jacket with a matching cylindrical hat, he held out his hand as he waited by the door, his eyes looking at me expectantly.

  “Give the man a tip, dear,” Lady Starweaver directed as she verbally came to my rescue, for I had no inclination as to his continued purpose in our room.

  Feeling sheepish, I fished a silver coin out of my coin purse and placed it in his hand. He raised his, well, not eyebrow, but scaly skin above his eye, at the offered coin, his expression a mixture of professionalism and longsuffering. I placed a second coin to join the first, and apparently satisfied with my offering, he closed the door behind him as he departed.

  I had expected us to have perhaps a small room with a thin wall between us, for that is what most establishments had to offer until we had traveled far enough south to get to the waystations built by the same Emperor who built the roads. The apartment I found myself in was as spacious as it was ostentatious, the floor adorned with large carpets of colorful designs and elaborate patterns, the furniture fully upholstered in pristine leathers and soft fabrics, the doors to the adjoining bedrooms at least twice as tall as normal ones. The ceiling was painted in a grand sight of some religious significance, one that showcased Hulonch, given the motifs of Light and Life that adorned it. Most interestingly, the god’s form changed based on where one stood in the room, with various appendages and features being added or removed as His whims deemed appropriate. Perhaps it was due to strange magic, or perhaps a phenomenon of optics that I have yet to grasp, but the effect remained dazzling.

  “Take care lest your eyeballs fall out of your head, my dear.”

  Startled from my gawking, I turned to see my lady smiling at me. My cheeks began to flush as she teased me for the second time in the past hour.

  “Lighten up, and get some rest.” She continued as she spun me around and lightly pushed me towards the door to my own room. “I have no further need of pampering right now. Get some sleep, and I will see you again come sundown.”

  I performed as my lady instructed, and I found that my bedroom continued to offer its own visual delights. While the décor remained tasteful, none of it mattered compared to the stone basin filled almost to the brim with warm water. My clothes no sooner found themselves divested of my posture than the bath found my body as an eager patron. Grime, sweat, fatigue, and stress seemingly washed away as I submerged myself in the soothing embrace of its invigorating waters. What a luxury, to have a bath, what more for one large enough for four people! And to have one that was warm as well, that was more icing on the cake.

  Considering the accommodations were provided free of charge by the Emperor himself, I could get used to remaining in this city if he continued to show such favor and hospitality. There were at least a dozen bottles, each ornate in form, and each likewise containing some pleasant-smelling liquid. I tried a few, and considered stopping after one provided me with a moment of considering indulgence in autocannibalism. I never knew an oil could make one smell of pancakes and syrup, but the scent of it set my stomach to rumbling as I found myself reminded of my hunger.

  A glance around the room betrayed the presence of a platter of cheeses and fruits that had been foolishly separated from the herd. I lowered myself into the bath until only the top of my head remained visible as I stalked towards my prey. I approached with utmost care and discretion, and if the platter knew that I had it firmly in my sights, it made no motion to flee. Satisfied with my proximity to my quarry, I leapt from the bath, a cascade of water accompanying me as I landed on the floor and snatched an unsuspecting candied fruit, the hapless delicacy soon finding a new home, one devoid of light and filled with hunger.

  Laughter escaped my mouth, first one giggle, then another. Before long, I was stuffing my face and laughing with glee, quickly pouring myself a glass of water to relieve my distress when I started choking on my food. Naked and carefree, I dined away on my private smorgasbord as my body dried off in the pleasantly warm air. As I munched away, I noticed a strange door or box of some sort in the wall, not big enough to crawl through, but large enough to hold objects. Upon opening it, I saw that it was a dumbwaiter, one with a rather elaborate door in front that had confused me at first.

  The inside of the door had pictograms and writing that suggested a menu of options, and a cursory inspection elucidated me as to what further luxuries awaited me. Not wasting any time, I retrieved all my dirty laundry, including my clothes that had been soiled from the trip so far, and placed them into the dumbwaiter. I pressed the button that had been hidden when the door was closed, and then closed said door. A moment later, I could hear the faint sound of movement beyond, and satisfied that my clothes would be cleaned and pressed while I slept, I opted to take a nap as my lady had instructed.

  The fabric of the bed was quite fine indeed, far better than a second-generation scion of a minor noble house from a small city-state had ever experienced. Though I once had my own attendants, they were in truth my mother’s and not mine, and though I had lived a better life than most commoners, the true heights of luxury had always remained outside my grasp. My lady treated her handmaidens well, but her means were either not on this level or she abstained from such indulgences.

  The bed itself was already warm and soft, like being nestled in a cloud bound for dreamland. The pillow remained delightfully chilled, as did the air around my head, such that I breathed pleasantly cool air. And soon I found myself asleep.

  Then I woke to the sound of a little bell that came from the direction of the dumbwaiter. My family was apt to describe me as a ‘sleepyhead’ and ‘grump’ when I woke, but this time, I felt positively refreshed. I retrieved my clothes and found them well cleaned, mended, and folded. A clock upon the wall showed that I had best be getting ready to escort my lady around town. Not that she needed my protection, but it did present a better picture to the public if she delegated the matter of her personal safety to competent staff.

  I prepared my best outfit that was not for ceremonial purposes. White trousers, black knee-high boots, a red jacket with gold trim, and my trusty belt and rapier. Not to mention the boot knife, the dagger hidden at my waist near my backside, the brass knuckles stashed away in my inner pocket, and the sharp hairpin that could be used as a weapon in a pinch. The world could be dangerous, and a girl needed to be prepared to defend herself.

  My family clings to some ancient customs that few recognize, much less observe. Most grated upon my sensibilities, but I always liked the singular braid that I kept on the right side of my head. Perhaps because that was one thing mother always did for me, for my nannies always tended to the rest of my outfit and person. I found myself daydreaming, my hand twirling my braid as homesickness brought back memories of times long gone. Not all were pleasant, but they still remind me of family. A small frown found its way on my face for just a moment before I schooled my countenance and dismissed it. That ship has already sailed, and I understand why my family made the choices it did during such hard times.

  Finally prepared, I opened the bedroom door only to find that Lady Starweaver was already waiting for me in the main room, a stack of papers before her as she casually reviewed them. While she was admittedly old, even for an elf, her beauty had never faded in the slightest, and women in their 30’s would be envious of how her youthful glow still tenaciously embraced her after centuries of existence. What’s more, she wore a cold shoulder dress, once complete with a slit on the side that went all the way up her right hip, which was more revealing that I had ever seen her. Simply put, she looked stunning, and if she didn’t get an offer of marriage before dinner, I would eat my shoes.

  “Don’t be mortified, dear. I did not expect you to wake before me,” she stated warmly without her eyes ever looking up to me. “I have already given the others leave to pursue their own delights, but as for us, we will be departing promptly to attend our own.”

  “As you wish, my lady,” I replied with a bow.

  “You may leave your mask behind. We are not in Berkerin any more, and such antiquated customs need not be enforced here. It would be a shame if your beauty spent another day hidden from the world,” she finished as she looked up to me while also rising to a standing position.

  I blushed at her praise, and though she at least formally maintained airs of being all prim and proper around polite society, it was no secret to those closer to her that she enjoyed teasing others. Not that she was fictitious with her words and duplicitous in her intent, but she knew the reaction her words would have on me.

  “Come, my Little Dawnflower. There are memories to be made tonight, and I dare say we will not make many good ones if we remain cooped up in here. I know I am absolutely famished, and a rickshaw awaits to transport us to a restaurant of some note, if rumors are to be believed.”

  A rickshaw did indeed await us, and by the pleasant scent in the air, I knew that quality food could indeed be found nearby. But by the red glow of the nearby lights and the scantily clad men and women offering unprecedented delights to those generous enough with their coin, I came to question if we had not found ourselves in a less than savory district of the city.