I didn’t feel like hunting and eating, despite needing to get enough biomass together for some more levels. My stomach was distinctly unhappy, and other than jars of gherkins, the thought of food repulsed me.

  I went down to pay the bunnyborg assembly line a visit to check on production for the dwarves, but as soon as I stuck my snout through the door, the sight of so many dismembered uni-bunnies sent me scurrying back towards my lair. I couldn’t just laze about on my bed of gold all day, however tempting it might seem.

  I slipped out of the cave mouth to my abode and caught the wind, spiralling upwards. The cool wind over my feathers and scales refreshed and reinvigorated me, so I decided to revel in another form of possessiveness: my lands.

  I circled north and admired the endless plain covered with tiny forests and gambolling wildlife. My own personal larder, always there and waiting for me when my tummy sorted itself out. I banked around Mount Bob as I headed south to look over the Mill and the surrounding landscape.

  Winter was coming, the first frost still glistened on the ground, the crystalline sparkles making it look as though it had been dusted with sugar. The farmers had retreated to their winter pastimes, which I hoped included heavy drinking at the Cod.

  The walls around the town were nearing completion. Despite their Germanic, rather than Scottish, heritage, my loaned miners also revelled in stonework as a hobby and had been helping out in their free time. It was possible that this was partly inspired by having to share their accommodations with the eclectic mix of species Kat had assembled to form my minions.

  People raised their hands to their eyes to block out the sun as I passed overhead, and rather than running for cover, they either waved or ignored me. Whatever they thought of me, I wasn’t viewed as a terror from above. It warmed and worried me. There must be spies moving amongst the town, coming and going with the wagons that rumbled along our new roads, or mixed in with the adventuring parties who came to visit my dungeon.

  The fondness and indifference with which my peasants viewed me might give their bosses funny ideas when they got the reports. ‘He doesn’t eat virgins, and the peasants think he’s a bit of an ass? Why are we worried about this guy?’ That kind of thing could get me into trouble.

  Then again, they might underestimate me instead. Dammit, I hated trying to mind-game my way through this crap. Other beings' thoughts weren’t worth the time, especially mammals.

  The walls were four metres tall, topped with the wiggly things from castles, and wide enough for three men to walk side by side. They were looking good, but I hoped they wouldn’t be put to the test anytime soon. I spread my wings and flapped for height, then headed south along the main road that stretched out towards the heart of the empire.

  Farms flashed by beneath me, and camp sites where traders would stop overnight. Soon they wouldn’t be needed. When my portal network was up and running, the merchants would simply walk from one warm and cosy pub with a roaring fire to another very similar establishment hundreds of miles away. For a suitable fee, of course. Hmm. That was a question that interested me.

  I turned and flew back north as the next town along the road came into view. They did not have the casual response to seeing a dragon in the skies as my own people, and the panic, flights of crossbow bolts and the odd spell that lofted towards me made it clear I wasn’t welcome.

  I considered my options and concluded a limited season pass was the way to go. A flat fee for a year that included, say, twenty trips through the portal network, that offered a modest saving on just purchasing that many for the base rate. Something like a data plan for a mobile phone… Or in-app purchases in games. Those made a killing.

  How about a surcharge for rooms and food? Knowing you could step from the Long Horn in Ankmapak to the Cod in the Mill in a second, and have a room ready and waiting and your menu selections on the fire cooking in anticipation of your arrival… That would be worth paying a bit extra for? And a guarantee of safe passage, backed up by dragonfire… There were so many possibilities, myriad opportunities to part the merchants from their profits.

  I settled to the ground outside the Mill and transformed back into mammal-Bob with a snort. It seemed that, however much I wanted to spend my time as a dragon, I was always having to compromise and shapeshift. Perhaps some legislation in the Mill that all buildings had to be rebuilt to accommodate my bulk, and all doors must be big enough for me to pass through. It would be a lot of work, but I had these dwarves running about who were natural construction workers…

  Resolving to locate Mrs Hatrik at some point to discuss the idea, but unwilling in light of my grumbly tummy to deal with the living avatar of acid reflux at the moment, I made my way to the Cod and slid into place at the bar.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  “I won’t be jumping up and dry-humping you, Bob,” Jenny joked as she slid me an ale.

  “Where’s Esme?” I had been a little disappointed by the unusually reserved welcome I’d received on entering. A few nods from the locals, a cheery wave from the hairiest baker on Helstat, and the resumption of the quiet conversations from the patrons as they paid me no mind. I was supposed to be their bloody lord!

  “With Kat in Longbottom. She’ll be back later. You need her for something?” The hirsute woman leered up at me and licked the end of her moustache.

  “Are you half dwarf?” I asked without thinking, earning an angry glare. “Sorry, I meant… I’ve been wondering about how dwarves, you know.” I mimed a finger passing through the ring of forefinger and thumb on the other hand.

  “Esme has weird taste in men.”

  “Not for entertainment! So Orlics reproduce more when they have a good fight. How they haven’t overrun the world already, I don’t know. But I couldn’t tell the difference between boy-dwarves and girl-dwarves. They all looked the same to me.”

  “This kind of self-interested, narrow-minded, stereotypical view is what–”

  “Piss off, Jenny. Every single dwarf had a beard. None of them had tits, or I couldn’t tell under the platemail they all wear all the bloody time. They all had gruff Teutonic accents and deep voices. Cut me some slack, I’m not speciest.”

  “To you, we’re all just as edible as the next mammal?” she asked.

  “Pretty much. Look, I was thinking about the portal system…” I explained my idea for a subscription and top-up-based payment system.

  She pushed a tray of pastries towards me and took one for herself while I talked. She scowled slightly when I refused to eat one.

  “Sounds like a good way to get yourself lynched, if you asked me.”

  “It worked back on Earth, though.”

  “Yeah, because people didn’t really have a choice. In what universe do you think introducing the concept of in-app purchases to this world will be good for your karma?” she snapped as she served a customer who looked confused as he handed her his money. “Thanks, love, don’t worry, Bob’s just being a silly arse.”

  “That’s another thing. My rep. You aren’t helping with shit like that.”

  “Are you going to eat me for saying hurty words?” she asked sweetly.

  “Of course not. Not without shaving you first, anyway. But my enemies need to know I’m not to be messed with. Taking shit like that in public makes me look, well–”

  “It makes you look human, Bob. And you need to remember that whatever you are, we still need you to be a little bit human. In between the eating people and scheming for wealth and power. Hell, the last two are practically what define a lot of humans!”

  “You’re kind of right, I guess,” I grumbled, taking a sip of the ale and grimacing as my stomach rebelled. “I think Creville at the Head will be good to have on staff. He knows his ale. This is…” I did the so-so hand gesture.

  “And I’m sure he’ll appreciate our advice on food. So, king of two towns now. Where will it stop, Bob?” Jenny asked, suddenly serious.

  “I dunno. I guess I’ll take what I can during the war.”

  “Just grab whatever seems easy without a plan? Seems dumb to me, lizard.” She began polishing a glass with a rag in the universal sign of barkeepers announcing they will listen to the drunk's woes with false patience.

  “You’re suggesting I start picking targets? Get some maps, find the juiciest spots and swoop in while everyone else is scrambling to organise their armies?” The idea had… merit. Greed-goblin was rubbing his hands together.

  “You’ve got more mobility than most. Between flying and the portals, you can go pretty much anywhere pretty fast. Your troopers don’t need to eat or sleep, and they don’t care about losses or collateral damage.”

  “Damn. You’re not wrong, I’ve been missing a trick. What do armies need on Helstat? The normal ones that aren’t manned by medically enslaved uni-bunnies.”

  “Same as everywhere, I guess? Food, ammunition, armour. Water and snazzy uniforms. Competent leaders are traditionally optional in every universe.”

  “OK. I need to have a word with Kat. I’m going to finally get my hands on the dossier she got about me and this place when the WOO assigned her to me.”

  “Good idea! I was wondering–”

  “Oh... dear. Say, how’s your old man doing? You got that orb that links to your dad handy by any chance, Jen?” I cut her off hurriedly.

  Claim staked.

  The town of Baginton is contested. Three factions vie for control of this rich, well-situated locale, which sports an ensuite Temple of the God of Light, offers excellent views of the city and has three latrine pits.

  Lady Nardshire has sent her Second and Eighth divisions to relieve the siege.

  Lady Foreverknot has invaded with her seventh brigade and is supported by mercenary elements from the Merchants and Armaments Guilds.

  The spoils will go to the victor!

  “Why?” she asked suspiciously. “He’s planning to come up towards Pigmass and the Hogsholiday to see in the new year.”

  “Do you think, and this is purely hypothetical, that if Baginton were to suddenly not be quite so accessible for some reason like, I guess, in theory, a mudslide, that he would have had the foresight to escape beforehand?”

  “The foresight to get out before a mudslide? Bob, Baginton is rolling flatlands. It’s idyllic. Even the rain is nice there. What the hell are you talking about?” A rolling pin had appeared as if by magic, and Jenny was now smacking it firmly into one palm as she glared at me.

  “Well, maybe not a mudslide. Maybe a hostile army laying siege to the place, purely, and I really must stress this, hypothetically.”

  The rolling pin snapped in half.

  “Bob. I would like to get a portal into Baginton. Right. Now. You’ve been to my father's house before, so it should be easy enough. Bring your bunny-soldiers, why don’t you? We can make a day of it.”