The Dragon of Roads - Saviors and Tyrants

Carefully, I crept up on my unsuspecting prey. With bold steps bereft of subtlety, I advanced right up to within breathing distance of what had eluded me for three days. But no more, no more I say! Though its eyes lazily swiveled to examine me, the dastardly villain remained fearless before my prowess. With an unflinching and determined poke, I nudged my quarry with my extended finger.

"Now you've done it!" exclaimed Skull, my bodyguard, friend, and lover, one among many. "See how it flees with all haste! How ever will we catch it?"

The pair of us observed for a whole minute as our latest find slowly undulated away, perhaps covering a distance of four inches if I am being generous. A trail of slime gave away its location as it tried to hide behind a slight bump in the rocky wall upon which it clung to graze upon fungal growths.

"Poor bugger. At least I know they are real now. Into the bottle with you!"

Without further ceremony or fanfare, I picked up the snail and deposited it within a glass jar. Using a fancy Ability of mine, I replaced the air in the jar with carbon dioxide. Directly afterwards, I sprinkled some powder on it to knock it unconscious almost instantly. The snail, like most creatures deprived of fresh air, would suffocate to death, but at least it would not suffer from the experience.

"Our hunt has come to an end, Master." Skull congratulated me as she slapped me on the back with her open palm. "This is a fine specimen of a Trojama Ghost Snail. I believe that completes your collection of the Ghost Snail family."

"Only for subterranean Ghost Snails." I corrected as I tucked the bottle with the dead snail into my pocket dimension for safe storage. "There are still terrestrial and aquatic Ghost Snails, and I have a feeling I may want to trade for the latter, as safely exploring the ocean depths for snails is something even I don't think is a good idea."

And by me, I mean an Emperor Dragon, one of eight in the world and, at least in terms of my Blessing, the strongest. No others can claim to be a [Greater Ancient Dragon Emperor], but the other Emperors have far more practical experience and a roster that is better filled with offspring. I have a few eggs almost ready, but otherwise, I only have one adopted child and two True Dragon offspring, with a good number of whelps thrown in. Still, experience and progeny come with time, I just need to survive in the short-term and all will be well.

Now, one may wonder what such a powerful and prominent individual like myself may be doing down in a dark cave looking for snails. Well, for the unenlightened that have not read On Subterranean Cave Snails, for which I have managed to acquire all six volumes, such critters are quite interesting and pretty, especially when you have a whole set for a setting board. Moreover, it is a fun way to spend my leisure time, although my son, Kaisadoro, does not enjoy anything that gets his hands dirty. Bit of a germaphobe, that one, if I am being honest. Well, more time to spend with anyone else that wants to tag along. Now, Skull doesn't really have a choice, but she is surprisingly enthusiastic about collecting snails with me, which may be related to how some of our earliest together-times spent reading did include volume 3 about said snails and their ilk.

A slight but not noticeable rumbling cut our spelunking short.

"Seems he is at it again, Master," stated Skull flatly as she let out a sigh. "Let it not be said that he is not predictable and determined."

"Don't forget snobbish, arrogant, generally incompetent, and an overall bore," I added as I started moving towards the exit tunnel I had dug into this particular mountainside as a shortcut to the cave system within. "But I suppose we would be here all day if we tried to exhaust the list of words to describe his sort."

"Such [Nobles] do seem to be cut from the same cloth. I am mostly impressed his head hasn't exploded with how red his face gets when he yells at us. Maybe someday soon, one of his guard captains will have enough of his blustering and slide a knife between his ribs for us."

"Wouldn't that be lovely," I responded with a knowing smile.

Killing this upstart [Noble] would be a simple affair for me, but stupid politics make that a crass move. While the crimes of said [Noble] are not egregious enough to warrant execution of his person, stealing away all his followers and the citizens of his city will assassinate the paper-thin veneer of nobility that his public façade struggles to support.

His anger may be due to a certain contravallation around his city, one placed there by yours truly. At first glance, it may appear that a wall surrounds his city just outside of range of most attacks both mundane and magical, but it is actually a high-road with support piers so close together that there is no room to pass between them. The fact that said road goes in an uninterrupted circle sans one opening where it joins the main road to the city is a mere coincidence of construction. I have free rein to make roads where I please, which is a right protected by the gods themselves. However, no one envisioned such devious and underhanded uses of such roads. While not violating my contract, it is in poor taste, or in excellent taste, depending on which side of this disagreement you find yourself aligning.

Now, when it comes to taking sides, I am firmly against most of the goings-on as it relates to the Theocracy of Ulsfarh. For you newer readers, those are the assholes that attacked the city of Berkerin when I was a resident and protector of said city. A dragon like me takes insult at such an affront to common decency, and so now I am giving them my own "peaceful" version of what for.

Now, I haven't been idle since I was given the go-ahead to gallivant off and do as I please by Bonprica, the eldest of the Emperors. When my Blessing increased in power, it wasn't just for show. It became a fairly straightforward affair to fulfill my task of building roads of excellent quality to all the major cities and the main highway that goes north-south on the continent of Rubioco. For that is what I do, make roads and such, and the younger version of me seen here in the story didn't know that it would lead to me becoming the demigod, The Dragon of Roads.

Such divinity did not happen overnight, and at this point, I had only begun the process of being examined for such a promotion. The fact that I was none the wiser about it happening was not an accident either. Half my trusted allies were in on it for one reason or another, and they kept their secrets well because I had the decency to not pry too deeply into their affairs. Bunch of traitors, the lot of them! But, I love them, so I let it slide. Being a demigod has its upsides.

Anyway, [Noble] Something-Or-Other had ordered his subjects to try to break through my high-road, which was a daunting undertaking. Digging under it would be as impossible as going over it, for I make my high-roads deep. Going through it is equally problematic, as it is thick, durable, and enchanted to repair itself rather quickly. Still, the [Noble] clutches onto the notion that today will be the day when all that changes.

I don't bear a grudge against the common folk doing as they are told. They don't want to be executed for treason or have their property seized by their [Noble]. They got the short end of the stick, but I am here to offer them a carrot. I have been distributing pamphlets to the populace that promise them citizenship in a very sparsely populated and rather new city I have built just a few miles away from this one. And this city isn't even very big, with maybe only ten-thousand or so people calling it home. It is just one among many that stand in my way to the capital, which is my true destination.

And these pamphlets are not propaganda, as something is only propaganda if it is biased, misleading, and generally exaggerates what it promises. I promise free housing, food, basic clothing, and furnishings for their homes that include fancy bells and whistles. Food preservers, cooking ranges that don't cost fuel, showers, indoor plumbing, central heating and cooling, and all the other magical conveniences that one skilled at [Enchanting] like myself can mass-produce and install are offered as simple as turning my hand. Did I mention how most people won't pay taxes either? Well, it is true, as I simplify matters by making only the final purveyor of goods and services shoulder that burden. Wages will be low, but there isn't much one needs to buy, and while prices will be obscene, it all evens out rather nicely for all parties involved.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Well, the merchants take issue with it, but they are a greedy and bloodthirsty lot that believe they are entitled to every last copper that passes through the city gates. I feel confident that competition will weed out those that can't succeed under my business model. And by business model, I mean they need to join my own trade consortium. And this city, like most, happens to have skilled artisans that could benefit from being poached by me, so, I am really doing them a favor.

The tricky part is that the [Noble] has shut his gates and is not letting people leave to take me up on the offer. The populace consists of more serfs than freemen, and so, they must abide by such rulings. However, some of my agents have gotten their grubby little hands on pertinent legal documents of the Theocracy of Ulsfarh. A clever and, as he may argue, saintly little goblin found a bit of a loophole that I will be exploiting starting today.

You see, the city is not under siege, nor am I technically at war with the city or the Theocracy of Ulsfarh. Certain citizens of note, ones with political clout, can come and go as they please. Additionally, slavery is legal in the Theocracy of Ulsfarh. Slaves are property, not people, and these fancypants citizens are allowed to take whatever property they want with them. Now, my own city is just a few miles away, and slavery is not legal there. As soon as these people enter my city, they will find suffrage to be rather immediate, and their former owners will receive a literal slap on the wrist for trying to own another person. I take a hard stance on crime with rather draconian punishments, and slavery is up there with the big no-no's. However, needs must and all that, so I let them off light and offer the promise of cushy jobs if they facilitate such a life of crime.

The real trick will be getting the first batch of people to willingly and legally become slaves, come over to my city, become free, and then walk back to the high-road to offer encouragement to the rest that this is not some sort of elaborate scam. Well, it is a scam, just against the [Noble], not the common masses, and I need their trust that I am helping them. However, such a poorly-managed city is filled to the brim with the weak and desperate, so I like my odds.

Now, my pamphlets do outline a few clauses that may cause concern. I will not be accepting people of a disposition and history of preying upon others for their own amusement or livelihood. I don't mind the reluctant thief that steals a loaf of bread to feed himself, but I do very much mind the thug that runs a protection racket. Basically, if someone lives their life by being a parasite and a tremendous dick to everyone else, they will not only not be accepted, but find their way to a speedy execution. I have a few [Priests] and the like that serve various gods on retainer to suss out the nature of people, as the deeds and habits one has do leave a mark on one's soul.

Back to the action, Skull and I exit the tunnel to the crisp spring air. Winter's grasp still lingers, and with only a handful of months under my belt at doing stuff not directly tied to stopping the end of the world (which is still an ongoing affair), I'd like to think I am making good progress. Some of you may be confused by how it can be spring again after only a few months, but consider that we are in the northern hemisphere now. World's End is slightly in the southern hemisphere, ergo, spring happens again for someone that travels enough.

I take a moment to scratch at my head as we walk to a nearby clearing.

"Still itching?" Skull asks, even though she more than knows the answer by now.

"On and off still, but like mad when it does. I can feel the little nubs of horns almost ready to poke out of my flesh. And a tail. And wings. I am seriously going to have a tough time masquerading as a mortal here soon."

"You are just perpetuating the scratch-itch cycle," Skull commented as we stopped in a clearing. "Maybe find better alchemists that can make something to stop magically-induced itching. The lotions for mundane itches won't cut it."

We both knew how delicate such a purchase would be. It would be a great avenue for an assassination attempt or to just layer another malady upon me. Basically, when it comes to delicate matters, an Emperor needs to handle it in-house or take huge risks without outside assistance. I do have a few skilled [Alchemists] in my employ, but they focus more on the generic healing, stamina, and mana potions that I mass-produce via [Rare Plant Cultivation]. So, I just tough it out while some of my agents are vetting the competency and discretion of employing them for such a task.

In the clearing, I quickly transition from my mortal form as a human to that of my true form as a dragon. These days, it comes with a quick flash of false light, in that you cannot see it in the darkness. Perhaps it is just more of a golden color that appears around me such that it looks like lighting, like one might see in a painting. Either way, Skull slides into my shadow as she enters the Shadow Path, a realm of mystery and danger that reflects the events of the material world.

With my wings raised and my body lowered, I pounce forward and upward to take to the air. Such maneuvers are as simple as breathing now, for the days of awkward and graceless flight are well behind me. My scales, each one a bright and metallic yellow with black borders, make my presence in the sky rather inescapable for a casual observer. I am a rather large dragon, and I am straining my Skills to shrink myself smaller whenever I get near civilization so as to not terrify the locals or crush a building underfoot. With my full size, I wouldn't comfortably fit in the largest of stadiums.

I lazily drift on the currents as I meander my way back to my high-road with no apparent rush or concern. Internally, I am a little, well, not "nervous", as I don't really experience such an emotion all that much any more, but rather some flavor of "intrigued" by how the events of the day may play out. If all goes well, a first batch of "slaves" should be leaving the city today. I would guess it would be after the uneventful tantrum of today's bombardment of my high-road.

As I near my high-road, I line up for a neat and dignified landing on a flat and raised platform made just for this express purpose, that I may gaze upon a city soon to be forgotten by time and history as its residents emigrate en masse. The trick is to nearly stall out and rise up from underneath just before crashing into the platform so as to arrest one's momentum, which would not be possible on normal terrain unless near a cliff. Predictably, I set down neatly and without issue.

A horde of attendants, mostly kobolds, rush forward to deliver documents to update me about the affairs of my empire or to dictate by rote what news they have to report. [Court of the Emperor] allows my mind to split into many streams of full consciousness to pay attention to each individual and to consume the rush of media in a matter of minutes. Onlookers and guards from the city across the way probably observe me to be rather relaxed and casual, but I am very much managing many processes and contingencies to ensure events unfold smoothly.

Before long, the gates of the city open, and with that, a throng of "slaves" and their freemen "owners" lumber forward to make the journey of a few miles towards the city. Curiously, a fair number of kobolds are in their midst, each one making the event far more dramatic. I see some have iron collars around the necks, or are chained one to the next in line, or are in light pillories that enable them to walk, if uncomfortably. Some wail or cry out, while others lay about with a lash and harsh words to keep them moving. I don't recall making any orders to make it so dramatic, and if anything, it would undermine the intent of what I am doing, but the people nearby do not seem to mind.

Granted, with that many kobolds down there, their collective "psychic energy" or whatever will have undoubtedly mesmerized the non-kobolds into accepting it as normal and thematically enhancing the atmosphere of the occasion. I have noticed a disturbing trend lately or more kobolds cropping up all over the place and doing weird jobs or performances, so maybe I should consult with Gambino and Bambina, the leaders of the kobolds of my flight. They have been a bit over-the-top lately, and I have a feeling that it will not resolve itself.

I make a note to address that at some point as I watch all the mortals below me make their way to my new city just down the road. My agents are already in position to sort them out so that no one sleeps on the streets tonight. Well, if they do, it will not be for a lack of safety or housing, as some habits may die hard for those with a strange affixation for the urban outdoors.

I can already pick out a handful of people that I would wager will be found as rather "undesirable" in my new community. My [Aura of Certainty], my control and understanding of which is much more refined and focused, allows me to assess the true character of a person, and I find a good number of them wanting in that department. While I don't feel embarrassment per se, there exists some amusement within me at my crude wielding of such an Ability when I first gained it, in how I essentially flashed everyone around me at full strength for what it offered. Being able to be more selective in whom I target and what amounts of information are shared each way has been a tremendous boon to my privacy and mystique.

A not-so-rare smile finds itself on my draconic face as I flash deadly sharp teeth in what I hope is an endearing grin. My plan was seeing fruition, and there was something soothing and fulfilling to my ego to win through means other than brute force and blatant exertion of power. My draconic heritage really started to take root as "petty spite" empowered my every move, and it felt wondrous.

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