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Race: Draconian

Bloodline Powers: Improved Strength+, Rending, Firebreath+

Greater Mysteries: Fire (Noble) 6, Wind (Noble) 5, Sound (Advanced) 3

Lesser Mysteries: Heat 4, Oxygen 4, Embers 4, Pressure 4, Current/Flow 4

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The four humans, three men and one woman, stood in the town square, scanning the rough cut wooden buildings with crafty eyes when Samazzar dropped from the sky. Dussok towered over the crowd of excited kobolds, his arms crossed in front of his chest as he kept watch on the traders.

Samazzar’s arrival drew all eyes to him. The kobolds all scuttled a pace or two away, while the humans’ hungry gaze locked onto him. Despite the fact that he towered over them, none of the humans showed any discomfort or fear. Rather, they looked like predators sighting a particularly juicy morsel.

“Hello,” the female said brightly, her eyes glittering as she stepped forward with one hand extended. “My name is Janice, fourth class merchant and peddler out of Vereton, at your service.”

“Samazzar,” he replied neutrally, taking her hand and shaking it in the style of humans. The woman was wise enough not to try and squeeze his hand and test his strength, but despite her restraint, Samazzar couldn’t help but notice the callouses on her grip and the wiry muscles running up and down her frame. As she stepped back, the woman barely put any weight on her heels, instead moving with the smooth grace of a predator.

There wasn’t enough information for him to know whether or not she had consumed an elixir, but it was as clear as the wings on his back that the short sword strapped to her waist wasn’t for show. Janice might be a trader, but she had more experience fighting than anyone in Union City. Samazzar would bet his right claw that she was working for someone fairly high up in the Vereton food chain, a hypothesis that didn’t bode well for their growing village.

“I am the chief of Union City,” he continued, filling the expectant silence. “We lay claim to the mountains behind us as well as the plains and the forest to the south. Our City bear’s no ill will toward Vereton, and I am hopeful that we can enter into a fruitful commercial relationship with your City.”

Janice’s eyes flicked back and forth, following Samazzar’s hands as he pointed to the mountain behind him and the prairie from where she had come. A sly smile slipped onto her face as he finished speaking.

“A bold land claim if you can back it up. Still, I like trading with the bold. There’s less hand wringing and whining. You simply say what you want, I say what it costs, and then we haggle from there. Much simpler.”

“You say bold,” Samazzar challenged, “I say logical. Who else is there to contest my claim? There are a number of tribes that live deeper in the mountains, but our boundaries end almost thirty to forty leagues past the most far flung of Vereton’s resource colonies. This is land that no one was using. Now I am using it.”

“Well,” Janice said with a practiced wink, “I’m certainly not contesting it. That’s a problem for politicians, and I don’t hate myself enough to go down that road. You can have all the land you want so long as you make sure to trade with us whenever we show up.”

Dussok opened his mouth to say something, but Samazzar hit him with a quick puff of wind. Not enough to hurt his sibling, but sufficient to shush him into silence.

“How magnanimous of you,” Samazzar replied dryly, motioning with a hand toward the town hall behind him. “Your men can tie their animals up here, but we should head inside for our actual negotiations. I’m sure the four of you are tired after your long journey. The least I can offer you is a place to sit while we figure out the specifics.”

Samazzar turned around, motioning the crowd away with one hand while pushing open the town hall’s door with the other. At some point a half dozen or so goblins had arrived, turning the growing throng into a mass of whispers and unintelligible yammering that threatened to drown out his conversation with the human traders.

Two of her companions and Dussok followed Samazzar and Janice into the building. A whispered command, carried upstairs by the mystery of sound, brought down a kobold with a platter of berries, assorted tubers, and salted meat.

Janice smiled, popping some of the fruit in her mouth while she eyed up the stucco insulation and poorly crafted furniture of the meeting hall. Behind her, the two males couldn’t keep sneers from their faces. Whether it was the rough accommodations, the basic food, or the simple goat hair clothing worn by Dussok and Samazzar, nothing about Union City was good enough for them.

“So Mrs. Janice,” Samazzar said, taking a seat at the table and placing his hands, claws down, on the wood. “What did you bring to our fair city today, and what are you interested in? I’m presuming neither side cares overly much about parros.”

Her eyes flickered around the room, quickly cataloging everything before she returned her attention to Samazzar with a sly smile.

“Miss Janice is fine,” she replied. “Although I joke that I’m married to my job, it’s hard to find a partner that will put up with me disappearing for four months at a time. As for parros? If you have them we’ll take them. Otherwise, we’re looking for rare minerals, herbs, artifacts, or other lightweight but valuable objects. We don’t have the pack space for anything bulky like food or woodworking.”

“Not that we’d want it anyway,” one of the men mumbled under his breath. “Bunch of savages, barely done soiling themselves in the streets and they’re already pretending to be a ‘city.”

Samazzar’s expression froze for a second. Inside him, the dragon spread its wings, exhaling a gout of flame. White hot anger beat in his chest, and it took a long shuddering breath to force the rage back down.

“Dussok,” he said blandly. “Why don’t you grab some of the amethyst jewelry your apprentices have been working with along with some of my healing potions and ice balm oil. They might not be the most valuable trade goods available, but we were hardly expecting a visit from peddlers so I must apologize for our poor accommodations.”

“But-” Dussok began only for Samazzar to cut him off with a whisper, transferred directly to his ears via the mystery of sound.

“Please. Something is off.”

The other draconian hesitated for a second before nodding. He stood up and walked toward the exit. Both of the human traders that were still standing waited until the last second to shift insolently out of his way. The entire time, Samazzar felt Janice’s gaze burning a hole in his side as she calmly ate some more berries.

“Now,” Samazzar began. “The question is what you have to trade. We are primarily interested in seeds for new crops and any herbs or catalysts you might have. As you may have inferred, our city has some accomplished alchemists. Currently, we have been focusing most of our production on the things needed to survive in our harsh climate such as healing draughts and oils that help us survive the cold snaps that plague the mountain passes, but if you let us know the sorts of products your clients back in Vereton are interested in, we can look into shifting some of our efforts for your next trip.”

“We do have some barley,” Janice replied thoughtfully. “The cows like it, it keeps well, and it’s pretty good in soup. Unfortunately, we didn’t pack enough food to empty our stores. If you want to buy it off of us, you’ll have to trade its weight in dried meat alongside some other goods.”

“As for catalysts,” she continued, shrugging helplessly. “We have some red thistle, desert bloom, blood garnet, and dazzle shrooms, but those are a special order from the Shattered Rock orcs. I like turning a profit as much as the next girl, but you can only spend parros if your ribcage is inside your body. I’m not foolish enough to pick a fight with those barbarians, so you’ll have to go without this time. Of course, if we were to make a return trip, we are happy to take requests.”

Samazzar leaned back in his chair, clawed fingers drumming on the table as his mind whirred. There were a hundred things that Union City needed, but it was hard to prioritize what would be important when the traders returned. They might come back a second time before the snows fell, but in all likelihood it would be at least a year. Who knew what they could discover in the next twelve months? It was very possible that he might ask for a rare mineral only for their surveyors to find a massive deposit the next day.

“What about greenheart vine and some willow saplings?” He asked finally. “We would obviously be willing to pay more if you could keep the plants alive.”

Both of the products were key ingredients in weak healing potions. At times they could be mixed into more dangerous alchemy to reduce the risk of serious harm caused by more volatile ingredients, but most practitioners used rarer and more expensive reagents than that. Rather, greenheart and willow bark were easy to grow in large quantities, making them a cheap curative component, something Union City desperately needed.

Janice clicked her tongue, shaking her head apologetically as her eyes flared with greed.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it.

“Sorry love, there’s no real way to keep plants like that alive during a month-long trek. We can bring dried greenheart and the bark and leaves from a willow tree, but it will cost you.”

He didn’t even flinch. So long as greenheart vine was kept in a dark, moist space it would keep for almost a year. Willow saplings might be slightly trickier to transport, but a wicker basket full of soil would probably do the trick. It was not that Janice couldn’t bring him the live plants, it was that she didn’t want to, even if the price were right.

“How much will it cost?” Samazzar questioned, eyes narrowing slightly. “Neither of those plants are terribly rare. I doubt it would cost you more than a parro per jar, and most of that price would be going toward the jar.”

“Ten parros per jar,” she replied unapologetically. “We have to pay taxes, resupply, hire guards, and take the risk of traveling all the way out here. I’d be losing my head if I charged you anything less. Literally. Pretty sure the trading factor I work for would have my head if I offered you a discount.”

“Seven parros,” Samazzar said dryly. “Come on, we both know that you are going to severely undervalue any goods that I try to sell back to you. I could hand you a gold chalice dating back to before the Godfall and you’d complain that it was too old to be used properly.”

“Eight parros,” Janice shot back. “I absolutely would. Also if you have any artifacts like that, please pull them out. I would happily give you a tolerable price for them.”

Samazzar’s mind immediately went to Lonely Peak and the claw mark buried in the depths of the Academy. That half second pause was all it took for the human woman to lean forward, an eager fire burning in her eyes.

“Oooooh,” she hissed excitedly, “you do have something. A secret you’re keeping from little old Janice. Come on love, don’t be shy. Let me know what it is. We can get rich together.”

“Nothing that precious,” Samazzar lied smoothly. “Certainly nothing that you can carry. These mountains are old. They hide secrets that date back hundreds if not thousands of years. To the right person, there are locations that are priceless. To most, they are nothing but a hard to reach beautiful landscape.”

Dussok’s footsteps echoed outside as he shooed away the crowd of kobolds and goblins that was choking the doorway. Despite Samazzar’s earlier efforts to disperse the throng, it had only grown. Evidently, he’d have to talk to the villagers about taking unsanctioned breaks and abandoning their work.

The draconian pushed into the town hall, a shallow wooden box in his hands. Inside the box were ten to twenty rings and necklaces made from copper and amethyst. None of them were particularly beautiful, obviously the work of an apprentice, Anala, but even a quick glance at her later products revealed how her skills had advanced to a fairly passable level.

The other half of the box held five potions in crude ceramic amphora and another twenty small wooden boxes. Healing potions and ice balm oil, a necessity for anyone trying to survive the dangers of the mountains.

Dussok set the box down on the table in between Janice and Samazzar before walking around behind Samazzar and looming over the two of them. Near the door, one of the human men shifted slightly, placing a hand on the hilt of a longsword. In response, Dussok crossed his arms in front of his barrel-like chest, flashing a fang filled grin at the guard.

Samazzar didn’t say anything and Janice pretended to not notice the tension. Instead, she picked up one of the potions and unstopped it before dipping a pinky in and tasting it. She nodded thoughtfully before returning it to the box.

“Lower mid-tier healing potion,” she observed. “I don’t know how much transit the container will survive, but the actual quality of the alchemy is acceptable. Most of the jewelry will need to be melted down into components, and neither copper nor amethysts are terribly valuable. Still, there are a couple of pieces that I might be able to resell to some merchants and artisans.”

“Now,” she continued, motioning with a hand toward the box. “Tell me about this ice balm oil. I don’t pretend that I’m an alchemy master, but at the same time, I’ve heard of most of the simpler potions and oils out there. If you want to sell it to me, I’ll need to know what I’m buying first.”

He leaned forward, picking up one of the small boxes before handing it to Janice. Silently, Samazzar motioned for the human to open it. She complied, nose wrinkling the second its pungent odor filled the room.

“Ice balm is an invention of our researchers,” Samazzar replied. “It is nowhere near as valuable as a healing potion, but it is comparatively much easier and cheaper to make. It temporarily deadens pain while encouraging regrowth, making it ideal for the treatment of burns, frostbite, or any other sort of injury that has the tendency to necrotize flesh if left untreated.”

Janice nodded thoughtfully, once again dabbing her pinky into the thick goop before rubbing it on her forearm. She opened and closed her hand once before sliding the small box back to Samazzar.”

“It smells like a stable,” she remarked, “but I can feel tingling and nothing else. At a minimum I could see this used as a painkiller, and if it works like you say, there will be demand for it among exploration teams as well as blacksmiths, glassblowers, and anyone else that works with hot materials.”

She leaned back in her chair, linking her hands behind her head as she stared up at the ceiling. Silently her mouth moved as Janice went over the numbers in her head. After almost five seconds, she tilted forward, resting her elbows on the table.

“I’ll tell you what, love. I can do five parros for each of the healing potions, one parro for each of the ice balms or whatever you call them, and five parros for the entire lot of jewelry. I can guarantee you aren’t going to get a better price unless you manage to hike all the way out to Vereton.”

“Fifty parros isn’t much,” Samazar replied, fighting to keep the anger from his voice. After all, what dragon wouldn’t be upset if a thief snuck into its lair and tried to steal everything with a smile on their face? “You’re charging eight parros for greenheart vine. In Vereton, I could get three containers in exchange for one of the healing potions.”

“Times are tough, I have bills to pay, etc etc,” Janice said unconvincingly, waving a hand dismissively over her head. “Take the deal or don’t take it. If you want something better, you can walk to Vereton yourselves, but with the uptick in monster activity on the plains, I wouldn’t recommend it. We had to fight our way through ambushes at least twice on our way here.”

“Fine,” Samazzar ground out. “How much for the barley?”

“I’ll go easy on you,” Janice offered. “They’re just our lunch and animal feed after all. Top us off with dried meat and I’ll give you all four burlap sacks we’ve brought with us for only ten parros. Practically a steal at that price.”

“Still,” She continued, a sly glint in her eyes. “I’m surprised you aren’t trying to trade for steel weapons. I’ve seen the iron tools your people are using, and steel would be a huge step up. We have a sack of short swords ready to go, after all they’re an in demand commodity up here amongst the barb- folk of the mountains. I’m sure if you don’t buy us out, one of your neighbors would be happy to pick up the slack.”

Samazzar bit his tongue. Dussok shuffled behind him, but a quick puff of wind was all it took to keep his sibling from saying something.

The threat in Janice’s statement was obvious. Buy from her or she would arm their enemies. As if her absurd prices weren’t enough of an indicator, her words served as a stark reminder that she wasn’t their friend.

“The oats, two containers of greenheart, and two containers of willow bark will be sufficient,” Samazzar replied tightly. “We do not display our weapons openly, but we have plenty. There is no need for us to purchase more.”

She perked up at Samazzar’s response, but he pretended not to notice.

“Fine by me,” the human said cheerfully, picking up the tray full of goods on the table. “Get us the meat and we’ll exchange it for the barley. We’ll be back next spring with your order.”

He held up a hand, stopping her.

“Parros first. As I recall, standard practice is half up front. We’re ordering forty parros worth of goods, so that means you should be giving us twenty parros. You’ll get them back when the delivery is made. After all, we can’t just have you running off without paying, can we?”

Janice grinned, reaching into her purse to pull out a handful of glowing coins that she tossed onto the table with a loud clatter. Samazzar quickly counted the money, nodding once he was satisfied that they had been paid in full.

The woman spun on a heel, whistling a happy tune to herself as she led the two other humans out of the town hall. Samazzar watched her go with a frown. Behind him, Dussok shifted.

“Why didn’t you ask for the weapons little dragon? If we traded her some of the night silk we could have established enough credit to arm most of the kobolds with good, solid steel. Barely half of our militia has iron weapons, and those are basically trash because of that awful ore you found. More cleavers than swords really”

Samazzar watched the doorway silently for a moment, tracking the humans with his magic as they began to unload their oxen. Once he was sure that they were out of earshot and that the transaction was proceeding normally, he responded.

“I don’t trust her Dussok. Actually, it goes beyond that. Every draconic instinct I have tells me that she is a thief and a spy. She is not the sort of person I want knowing my weakness. Trading night silk for steel would be like announcing that we are rich and unable to defend ourselves. If we only trade for basic but hard to find necessities, we will appear poor. Hopefully poor enough that we don’t look like we’re worth robbing.”

“That makes sense,” Dussok replied slowly, a frown on his scaly face. “I don’t like it, but the humans have been behaving suspiciously lately. It is good to be wary of them.”

“Still,” Samazzar said, a sigh escaping his lips along with the word. “One thing is for sure.”

“Oh?” Dussok cocked his head to the side quizzically.

“Whatever fortune or turn of luck that has kept us from being noticed by our neighbors has run out. We are no longer playing a solitary game, and if we hope to win, we will need to get stronger. Quickly.”