“So that was the big boss?” I asked, looking down at the rather sad pile of ash that was all that remained after Kat’s aggressive tickling regimen.

  “I think so?”

  “How much XP did you get? Or gold or whatever?” I asked, nudging the muck with a soiled toe.

  “I don’t level like that. You have to buy me levels because I’m basically an extension of you.”

  I eyed her askance, thought of Esme, and blushed. She really needed more layers of clothes. “So IMPS fucked us both on this one, then?”

  “I guess. Main thing is he’s dead, and Tim can find the—”

  A series of unearthly shrieks rang out; we both turned to look back into the main chamber. The wizard of type O negative was dealt with; hiding behind his curtain, he hadn’t anticipated a lethal feather duster, but not all the powerful vampires had been destroyed.

  “Maybe we should go make sure they’re ok?” Kat asked, glancing at the curtain behind me as more hideous howls echoed through the hall.

  “They’ll be fine. The bastard should have dropped some loot, right?” I crouched down and began sifting through vampire dust.

  “They don’t sound fine, Bob,” Kat said as the sound of mana-cannons and Tim’s blasters filled my ears.

  “What?” I yelled, looking up at her. She scowled at me and flew out of the tiny office space. I followed her; I could always check for loot more thoroughly later.

  It wasn’t necessarily the best move, but the lump in my shin was kind of sore, and I knew the vamps would largely leave me alone as long as I was scale-clad. So with a mental “fuck it”, I shifted back into my proper form and flapped my partially plucked wings to get back to the fight I could hear raging in the near distance.

  Tim and the bunnyborgs were surrounded on all sides by shifting pools, patches and mists of blood. Sometimes they formed shapes reminiscent of bipedal beings, but mostly they were inchoate nightmares of formless power, seeking to slash or slam into my minions.

  Aside from the risk of HIVamp, it was also kind of gross.

  Blasts of my breath attack drove them off for long enough that the bunnyborgs could rally and unleash their beam weapons again. The BB-109s let rip with torrents of magical fire as well.

  “Tim! Quit being a Tim!” I yelled between blasts of orange and green from my nostrils of doom.

  “The hell is that supposed to mean?” he demanded.

  “Tim, it’s not really got that hero aura, you green bastard! Do the bloody thing!”

  At the word bloody, the floating red mists all pivoted in my direction for a moment. Despite being in my draconic majesty, my cloaca puckered slightly. There was a sense of malevolence, ancient evil, in the attention that came to bear on me.

  “Hurry the fuck up, Tim!” I said, backing away slowly. “Bloody blood bleeding bastard!” I called, and the red mists drew closer to me.

  Spears of magic and blood and ice, and I’m pretty sure urine, shot out towards me. Fortunately, they glanced off my god-armoured hide, even the yellow ones.

  I backed away, trying to think of an appropriate spell to use. Fake clothes? No. Barnacles? While it seemed to OP in many respects, this wasn’t the right time. Flight? Already had wings. I sent out bursts of my breath attack to fend off the circling predators as I thought desperately.

  “Tim… seriously, hurry up!” I called.

  Kat appeared and lashed out with her dinky bondage whip, sending splatters of blood scattering away where the ultrasonic leather cracked, but doing no noticeable damage to the incorporeal clouds. Not having a solid body was a massive advantage. Frankly, I considered it cheating at this point.

  “You guys too scared to play fair? Too cowardly to commit to a fair fight? Is that how you’ve survived so lo—”

  “That is exactly how we’ve survived so long,” hissed a voice that came from a floating skull-shape of crimson. “One does not enter into a fight unless one is sure that one can win.”

  “Yeah, well. That’s just, like, your opinion, man,” I stuttered. The… guy? The thing was terrifying. It exuded evil in the same way as a teenager does stank. Our boy badly needed a shower with holy soap.

  “The opinion of prey doesn’t matter to us. We have seen the moon rise tens of thousands of times, watched the mortal world rise and fall. The city above us was once a pair of fishing villages on opposite sides of the river that were constantly at war with each other. You… creatures have such a limited perspective. You have slain Master Roderick, the eldest of us. But he was not the most powerful. We will feast on your blood and turn you into our eternal slaves.” It was like being yelled at by TV static.

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  “You gotta get to my blood first,” I snapped, looking frantically at Tim. The mob had turned all their attention on me, drawing into a circle around me as the leader talked. Kat was somewhere nearby. I felt it even though I couldn’t see her, but she was invisible and hiding, so I was left feeling very exposed and alone against thousands of years of concentrated assholery.

  “We will. We will peel you open like a Craardamillo. Take your blood, sell your flesh and your bones to mortal alchemists. You are nothing but spare parts to us, fit only for a feast and then resale.”

  “You really have a high opinion of yourselves, don’t you? TIM! Sort your shit out and stop pissing around!” I bellowed. A dragon does not scream. We are too powerful, wise and self-controlled to scream. I came close to it, though.

  “Nearly there, Bob!” came the reply.

  “Your minions cannot help you now. You are trapped down here with us. Dozens of ancient undead, all powerful, all thirsty. You and your pets will never see the light again.” The floating skull shifted, making it clear he was grinning in what I could only describe as a very evil fashion.

  “You aren’t trapped in here with us; we’re trapped in here with you,” I snarled. “Shit, the other way round! Tim?”

  “Got it!”

  There was a flash of light that evaporated the lesser undead, red mists dissolving into piercing radiance. Then a rumble. Then a moment of stillness. Then one of the bunnyborgs farted.

  “Sorted! Calling in the back up now!”

  In that moment, Tim’s voice was that of an angel. His gruff, overeducated tone and accent sent a thrill down my spine that I could hardly compare to any other moment in my life.

  “What did you do?” howled the skull-face, spinning and hurrying back towards where Tim had finally done the one job that I’d brought him along for.

  “Fucked up your power generator and—” Another flash of light, and the sound of armoured footsteps rang out, drowning the wails of the surviving vampires as beams of solar glory filled the cave. “— called in some reinforcements!” said Tim happily.

  I had a lot of respect for shininess on a fiscal and a philosophical level. I liked it, deep in my bones. All forms of shininess were Bob-approved outside the torrent of golden sparks that I shed whenever I got excited. And I was a regular Roman candle at that moment in time.

  The Imperial Immortals were all powerhouses. Maybe none of them were individually a match for someone like Big Kenny, may he rest in pieces, or that dude who fought like a clockwork toy back at the battle with the Dankest Dwarves. But none of them were far off.

  “Baron.” Lady Artington bowed low, serving me up an eyeful that would have made me blush.

  “You aren’t bothered about the scales?”

  “Not at all, Baron Bob.” Her smile was filled with promises that set the Lust-monkey to scampering around in the back of my mind.

  “I’m a baronet. Lowest of the low among you mammals,” I grunted.

  “Come now. A man… dragon should be suitably rewarded for doing the empire a great service.” Artington held out a scroll that was snatched away by Kat before my claw could get there.

  “You’ve been promoted, scale brain. Baron, it is.”

  “The hell does that mean to me, Kat?”

  “It means you are now fully ennobled and eligible for a position on the Privy Council.” Artington bowed low again, earning a sniff of derision from Kat.

  “You mean you want to drag this poor dumb bastard into the cesspit of imperial politics? No thanks. We’ll take gold instead.”

  While I objected to her characterisation of my intellect, I couldn’t argue that I would prefer shinies to words on a piece of paper and having to talk to some nepo baby through a toilet door.

  “He is already embroiled in politics, dear Ekaterina. I would love to know who your tailor is. I have friends who would appreciate similar outfits for, um, private consumption.” Kat blushed in response to the courtesan's words.

  “The lizard screwed me over,” she grumbled.

  “I’d be more than happy for him to do the same for me, if that’s the case.”

  Goddammit. I loved Esme. I’d spent a billion golds' worth of potion to make sure she was safe, then another billion on Cyrus so I could take my revenge on the people who had carried out the attack. But… Boobs.

  “Cans you very much. It’s an honour to be so en-tittied.” Not my best work. Kat snickered in response.

  “The Madson is looking forward to meeting you, Bob.”

  The Madson. From what I’d gathered, he wasn’t insane, but his daddy had been, and the name had stuck. I was looking forward to meeting him, but right now, I was more concerned about the fact that his minions were treating my minions like goddamn practice targets.

  “Oi! Does that look like a fucking vampire to you? If it bleeds… never mind. If it’s made of metal and there’s a unibunny inside,” I glanced at the BB-109s, which did not have any apparent pilots, “Or it looks like there might be, leave it the fuck alone! That’s property damage, and I’ll be billing your boss!”

  The Immortals scowled at me. I glared back. A nice, solid, level four glare. Enough to strip the paint from the walls, but they didn’t care.

  “Confirm your targets,” Artington called.

  “Also, the orlic is with me!” The glow of his shields faded as metal-clad gladiators stopped slashing at the lab coat sporting nerd with green skin.

  “The Madson wants to speak to you at your earliest convenience.” Artington fixed me with a look that told me I should either do as she said, take off my trousers, or both.

  “Erm…”

  “That usually means now, in diplomat-speak. On this occasion, though, dragon, you’ve got something to attend to in the meantime.” Kat settled on my snout and crossed her arms. All I could see was sunburned ass cheeks and bondage straps. The system really did have a weird way of picking her costumes.

  “I can see the emperor. I guess?”

  “Bob, I think you’re forgetting something important.” Kat’s voice was sickly sweet.

  “What? Yeah, Baginton is under siege, again. That’s no big deal. I’ll get the TOTS and just let Bargleblaster and that psycho Pete go to town. It can wait.”

  “You think the guards can hold them off from Bulb’s temple?”

  “Who cares? It’s not like that will suddenly—”

  My throat clammed up. I choked, making an impressive fur-ball-summoning noise. I had to prevent the temple from falling into the Umbrati's hands, not because I wanted to, but because that bastard Bulb had made me sparkle. Being a champion sucked.

  “There’s a portal in the Broken Baguette, Bob. We really don’t want your enemies taking it over for even a minute.”

  My blood ran cold at Kat’s words. My dungeon, my hoard, my mall. They were all at risk.

  “Sorry Jemima, I’ve got something to do. I’ll need a rain check on my first chat with his loopiness.”