Indeed, how could I forget to ask Dans for a couple of saddlebags again? Smolder, strolling down the street with a money bag in its mouth, thought somewhat glumly.
Without any storage artifacts, it was inconvenient for the red dragon to carry items, making a few saddlebags a good choice for holding belongings. However, Smolder wasn't fond of having too much on its body, preferring to go without whenever possible, leading to the current, somewhat awkward predicament.
After returning, it decided to always have a few saddlebags attached, which wasn't a big deal. The image of the red dragon walking down the street with a money bag in its mouth was indeed not very flattering, almost dog-like, which even drew extra glances from people who had grown accustomed to the dragon's presence over the years.
After a while, unable to bear it any longer, Smolder tossed the money bag behind, deftly catching it with its tail and wrapping the bag's opening to continue on its way.
Had it thought to use its tail from the start, this embarrassment could have been avoided. Smolder's mood was quite sour, wondering if things could get any worse.
Suddenly, a rumble of thunder sounded from the sky, now covered in dense clouds, signaling the imminent arrival of a heavy rain.
Smolder glanced at the sky and sighed, turning to look for shelter.
Though rain had no effect on dragons, Smolder, being of fire attribute, naturally disliked water and wouldn't choose to get wet unnecessarily.
The surrounding street was lined with small shops, unsuitable for taking shelter. Turning a corner, a large building appeared.
So, the capital's mercenary tavern is here, Smolder thought. A raindrop fell on its nose, prompting Smolder to head towards the tavern's entrance without further thought.
The entrance was spacious enough for Smolder to pass through comfortably, though a fully-grown dragon could barely fit its head inside.
As Smolder entered, the chatter inside the tavern quieted significantly, with most eyes turning to the dragon.
Smolder scanned the room indifferently. Due to the time, only a handful of people were present. Ignoring the stares, Smolder found a nearby table, pushed aside a chair, and sat on the floor.
Two mercenaries were already chatting with a server at the bar, occasionally glancing at Smolder. Smolder merely glanced back before turning its attention to the pouring rain outside.
After more than ten minutes, with no sign of the rain stopping, Smolder grew tired of the view. It placed the money bag, still held by its tail, on the table and began counting with its front claws.
In Lorisque, gold coins were highly valuable, enough for an average person to live comfortably in the capital for a month. A gold coin could be exchanged for a hundred silver coins, and a silver coin for a hundred copper coins, which could buy a fresh, soft loaf of bread.
Smolder's wealth wasn't substantial, with the arena being its almost sole source of income. Dragons typically enjoyed the sensation of their scales against gold coins, using them to line their beds. However, Smolder's gold could barely serve as a pillow, making it feel like possibly the poorest dragon in history.
The heavy money bag was quickly counted: nineteen gold coins and a hundred silver coins, as Smolder had specifically requested. With so few gold coins, silver had to suffice, for Smolder had grown tired of sleeping on the cold, hard floor after more than a decade.
As Smolder stared at a gold coin, a voice interrupted its reverie: "Dragon, interested in joining our mercenary group? The pay is guaranteed to satisfy."
Smolder turned to see a tall, bearded mercenary beside it, his armor battle-worn and exuding a bold aura, clearly a man of significance.
Seeing no immediate response from Smolder, the bearded man smiled and patted his money bag, the orange-red eyes of the dragon lighting up momentarily at the sight of what was surely a bag full of gold coins.
Yet, Smolder resisted the urge to pounce, calmly responding, "Not interested."
The bearded man paused, confused by the deviation from what he expected of a young dragon, which should have been easily tempted by gold.
"Why not? I'm very sincere, no tricks or deceit," he said, indicating genuine interest, unlike others with hidden agendas.
"I belong to the Stan family," Smolder replied, turning away to avoid fixating on the bearded man's gold, fearing it might lose control and attack.
Even mercenaries not from the area would familiarize themselves with local knowledge, and the bearded man, recognizing the renowned Stan family, chose not to press further, leaving with a mix of disappointment and confusion about Smolder's freedom to roam.
Smolder's main goal was to grow wings and become a true dragon. In a world where the dead could rise and pigs might fly, this seemed not too daunting a task.
Prince Blight had long promised to travel the world with Smolder to find a way to grow wings, but Smolder knew Duke Bronn would never agree. To repay Blight's kindness, Smolder planned to serve him until the end of his days before pursuing its own goals. With a dragon's lengthy lifespan, there was no rush.
Most dragonlings Smolder's age were still being coddled by their mothers, yet Smolder had to navigate the world like an adult dragon, feeling the unfairness of its fate.
By noon, Smolder, having made a significant decision, reluctantly ordered a plate of grilled meat with a silver coin, the server handling the transaction nervously in the presence of Smolder's subtle draconic aura.
Soon, the server returned, less fearful, placing two large plates of steaming grilled meat before Smolder and leaving the silver coin on the table, explaining, "Sir, that gentleman over there has paid for your meal."
Following the server's gesture, Smolder saw the bearded man raising his cup in salute. Smolder nodded in appreciation, taking back the silver coin and turning its attention to the aromatic feast before it.
This wasn't ordinary grilled meat but specially prepared magical beast meat, far superior in taste and nutrition, and accordingly priced.
Since it was a gift, why hesitate? Smolder indulged without reservation.