The Red Dragon Just Wants To Do As It Pleases

As the time to embark on a new venture—or, perhaps more accurately, stir up trouble—in the New Continent drew near, David was preparing to assign tasks to the dragons staying behind. However, upon hearing a report from the Green Dragon Nifadora, he approached a cage bristling with various patched iron chains, feeling rather exasperated.

Inside, a Brass Dragon was tightly bound, sporting a bruised nose and a swollen face. Its legs and wings still trembled uncontrollably, yet its eyes glowed with an unyielding defiance, ready to battle tyranny to the end. David, somewhat speechless, asked, "Just how many times has he tried to escape now?"

Indeed, after nearly two years of imprisonment, David had, in a rare act of 'generosity,' taken this Number Three dragon out with him for a show of strength. On their return to the camp, the creature had actually managed to slip away when none of the other dragons were paying attention, and he had nearly succeeded. He was immediately chased down by the furious dragons, beaten so badly he was left searching for his teeth, and then tied up and brought back to the camp.

"The seventeenth time," Nifadora replied, her expression just as troubled. It averaged almost once a month, even though the previous sixteen attempts had been a joke.

No sooner had Nifadora finished speaking than two young dragons, whose nests were adjacent to this Number Three Brass Dragon's, seized the opportunity to start tattling.

"Not only does he always try to escape, but he also defecates in our Dragon Food bowls, stinking up the entire dragon pens!" the Red Dragon Lizrite began, launching the first salvo of complaints against the troublesome Number Three.

Mofei, having finally found an opportunity to complain, quickly added, "He also keeps stealing my Dragon Food! If I don't give it up, he scratches me, bites me, and even tries to poke my cloaca with the tip of his tail."

Lizrite continued her accusations, "He doesn't take baths. He even tried to bite our caretaker, Kraidian. If I hadn't blocked it with my body, Kraidian might have been in danger. He also snores loudly and mumbles through his nose in his sleep. He even tries to mimic accents with his farting noises to incite us into rebelling against your tyranny and overthrowing the entire Dragon Nest camp! He says that what Mr. Attilicia teaches us is all pseudo-magic, claiming that the doctrines you've imposed upon us are remnants of the old era's feudal draconic dregs. He says that you, Boss, are a heinous kidnapper who specifically targets us young dragons for stalking, tracking, and kidnapping, restricting our draconic freedom, persecuting us with potions, and even threatening to confiscate our reproductive organs! He claims your evil deeds are outrageous enough to make any dragon sick, and that every dragon should want you executed! He also says we should overthrow the nefarious rule of our Dragon Nest, topple the Flame Steel Dragon David Uthos, and achieve draconic freedom and liberation!"

...

"Stop!"

Even though the Brass Dragon was thoroughly restrained, with all its potential sound-emitting orifices blocked, David still felt as if he were hearing auditory hallucinations of the Brass Dragon as the young Red and White Dragons bickered incessantly. It was driving him nearly mad, and his head began to throb.

HISS! Damn it, I shouldn't have brought such a creature back with me in the first place—it's nothing but a trouble magnet. He had to admit he'd underestimated a Brass Dragon's 'talent' for spewing trouble. It could eat and defecate, contributed no other value, yet always managed to conceive the most novel ways to 'speak' provocations that would make other dragons grit their teeth in aggravation.

Upon his recent return, he had already heard of several of its 'performances': rubbing its buttocks against the cage to create a 'sawing' sound; rhythmically slapping its tail against the ground; clawing out tunes or grinding its teeth to emit a Galdan magical wave code that made dragons' scalps tingle.

Well, it seems he's now added fart-speech to his repertoire, David thought. I'm really at my wit's end here!

But, one had to admit, as much of a loudmouth as this Brass Dragon was, there was a 'factual basis' for each of its allegations. For instance, David had indeed kidnapped it and silenced it with a Sobering Potion, even once threatening castration if it uttered another word. That was when the Brass Dragon had taken him seriously. In David's presence, at least, the Brass Dragon would lie in its cage as if 'dead,' just as it was now, not daring to even breathe too deeply. It was terrified that David, the Red Dragon, would, in a fit of rage, truly confiscate its nearly mature 'instrument of crime.'

David pondered for a moment, then glanced at Lizrite and Mofei. Their eye bags were even more pronounced than those of prime-aged dragons, a result of two years of restless sleep. He made a decision that went against his Red Dragon instincts: "Forget it. Later, drag this Number Three dragon outside the camp and just release it."

Time to cut my losses, he figured. Insisting on keeping such an untamable creature would only cause the other young dragons to lose weight. As for slaughtering it? That didn't seem necessary. Given its age, it was just a dragon whelp. If word got out, his ill repute would probably spread throughout the entire Metal Dragon community.

No sooner had David finished speaking than the camp fell silent for a moment. Then, Nifadora heaved a long sigh of relief, as if a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders. Behind him, the young dragons Lizrite and Mofei erupted in cheers.

"Amazing! We can finally get rid of this filthy, rude creature!"

"I, Mofei, have finally outlasted him! Kraidian! Did you see? We can finally rid ourselves of this 'Abyssal Whisperer'!"

The White Dragon, Mofei, even joyfully reported the news to a beautiful and demure Drow in the distance—who was also perking up her long ears to listen to the commotion—and then Mofei himself suddenly burst into tears.

David was almost dumbfounded by the spectacle. Was it really that bad? A mere young Brass Dragon earned the moniker 'Abyssal Whisperer' just because I wasn't in the nest?

For a moment, David felt a devilish impulse to remove the muzzle from this Number Three dragon's mouth, just to hear what it had to say about finally being 'fired' after two and a half years of its own relentless efforts. But then, recalling how the creature could chatter incessantly even in its dreams, he decided against it. Let's just call it a truce and let each other off the hook.

As for the shortfall in Dragon Food over the past two years, Nifadora had kept an account. It wasn't really a loss; after all, the Dragon Nest's self-produced Dragon Food was essentially a no-cost venture, merely consuming some draconic effort. And over the past two years, the Brass Dragon's collected excrement, shed scales, teeth, claws, and Dragon Blood samples—whether given to his Silver Dragon father for research or sold—had still fetched a decent sum.

In David's mind, as long as he was raising dragons, there was no possibility of losing money.

Precisely for this reason, after eliminating the hidden threat of the Barbarians, the entire camp's focus was shifting. The grand, century-long plan of kidnapping dragons instead of purchasing them, and training them for his own use, had to continue.

Regrettably, I still have no useful 'people' under my command! The only one potentially adept at tracking dragons, Hiatt, was indispensable for trade between the two continents. The High Elf Yevgeny, who could have replaced Hiatt, he had prematurely sent to Dewensen as an undercover agent. As for the newcomer Alianna, she certainly had potential, but having only managed the Wei City stronghold until now, she would need to serve as Hiatt's experienced deputy for several years before being ready for succession.

With this in mind, David immediately instructed the Green Dragon Nifadora, who always stood ready half a step behind him, "Call that... that Mage and Rosinde over." He momentarily couldn't recall the Mage's name; he wasn't even sure if the fellow actually had one.

But as soon as David mentioned 'that one' plus 'Mage,' Nifadora understood instantly. In the entire camp, only one Drow held such a dubious 'honor' in the Dragon Lord's estimation.

A short while later, after the Barbarian Rosinde had promptly arrived, the Drow Mage also hurried over, still hitching up his leather shorts. "Master~ you were looking for me?" It looked as if he had just been squatting in the latrine; it was uncertain whether he had cleaned himself thoroughly.

David couldn't help but lean his head back slightly and asked, "You've been with Hiatt for several years now, haven't you?"

"Thirteen years! And it's been nearly six years since I came to the Old Continent," the Drow declared proudly.

"So, you must have pretty much learned Hiatt's skills in tracking dragons, especially female ones, right?" David continued.

"Ah? Almost... almost, haha." The Drow Mage immediately felt a knot of dread in his stomach. A very bad feeling welled up, yet he dared not refuse. He feared that if he admitted he hadn't paid much attention to that area, he'd be outright discarded, or even tossed into the sea to drown!

"Alright, Rosinde."

"My Lord." After a few days of recuperation since returning to camp, and no longer needing to engage in civil strife with the other Barbarians, this previously sullen Barbarian had finally regained his original spirit and demeanor.

"From today onwards, your primary task for the coming years, along with Monaodo and your tribesmen under your command, will be to lure wild young dragons back to the camp. Rest assured, Lizrite and Mofei will join you."

Upon hearing their new assignment, the two young dragons felt a thrill. The slight puffiness around their eyes narrowed. Great! Once they caught new young dragons, they'd no longer be at the bottom of the camp's pecking order! They'd have underlings to boss around too!

"Yes, My Lord!" Rosinde and the Drow replied in unison.

As David turned and walked away, Nifadora, the Green Dragon following him, immediately grew animated. "Dragon Lord! What do you take me for! I don't need to be captured... Just like you beckoned me with the tip of your tail back then, I would have brought all my worldly goods to serve under your draconic wings..."

...When did I ever beckon you with my tail tip?! David thought. Back then, when I returned to the nest, I found that huge Green Dragon had just walked into a cage by herself! It nearly scared my scales off on the spot!

Once David and Nifadora had left, the Barbarian turned to the Drow. "Right, let's get acquainted. I don't think I know your name..." Rosinde began, extending his hand to formally meet his future 'dragon-catching technical advisor.'

Just then, he saw a stream of strong-smelling liquid gush down from both sides of the Drow's small leather shorts.

Facing the daunting target of 'twelve young dragons a year,' the Drow, his expression one of utter despair, slumped to the ground and burst into tears.

"...WAAAH! It's over! It's all over! I don't know how! I really don't know how to catch dragons! Boss, where are you? Without you, I can't do anything! It's finished! By this time next year, the Master will definitely have me thrown into the sea! WAAAH!"

Facing the Drow, who had clearly had a mental breakdown and was now sitting in a puddle of his own making, the Barbarian awkwardly withdrew his hand.

If he got even a tiny bit of that on him, he wouldn't know how to explain it to his wife, Monaodo, back home!