Where Dragons Rule
A Dragon's Tale
By Sonny Dae
© 2020, Sonny Dae, All Rights Reserved

Quinn smiled as lined the dough in the tray, carefully using his tail to flatten it against the sides and bottom. He then carefully grabbed the large pot filled with the meat, vegetables, and broth between his large forepaws and waddled to the counter. Pouring the filling into the pot was difficult, but years of practice had taught him how to make use of his quadruped form. Using the claws of his wings to hold the pot handles, he used his paws to carefully tilt empty the contents into the pie crust. Lastly, he placed the final piece of dough over the top, humming to himself as he finished the pie.

            After placing the pie in the oven and dropping the used dishes in the wash bin, he turned his attention to the other pot on the stove where the stew was simmering. The utensils were specially designed with a wide base so he could grip them easily with his paws. He picked up the spoon and began stirring the pot. A contented sigh escaped as the scent of the herbs and spices filled his nose.

“Quinn, you better get out here," Alyse said, poking her round, flushed face through the doorway. Her brown hair hung around her head as if she had just gotten out of bed and her breaths came in hard starts. “There're two idiots out here making a mess. I tried to break it up, but they're not listening."

            There came a loud crash and the clattering of dishes from the main dining area.

            Quinn sighed and turned away from the steaming pot on the stove. “Watch that, and make sure it doesn't burn," he told the middle-aged woman before stomping out of the kitchen.

            Just as expected, two silver horntails were arguing. Already, one of the tables had been flipped over and the other customers had formed a semi-ring around them, keeping their distance. The large drakes circled each other and waving their spiked tails in the air. They were completely oblivious to the food and drink caught under their paws.

            With an angry snort, Quinn approached the two drakes before they could do more damage. They didn't notice until he was practically on top of them. First, he slammed his shoulder into the first drake, sending the silver dragon reeling. Then Quinn spun, striking the other drake on the chin with his tail. As a green-crested genial, his tail didn't have the same deadliness as his silver cousins. In this case, he supposed it was a blessing as the blow only knocked the drake on his ass instead of putting a new hole in his head.

            “What is the one rule I have in this place?!" Quinn thundered still striking the downed drake with his tail. “You. Don't. Waste. Food!"

            “Quinn! Stop!" Alyse cried. She began pushing him away from the drake.

            He stopped and turned to her. She and the surrounding customers stared at him in horror.

            He looked down and saw the second horntail barely conscious on the floor, one eye was swollen and face bleeding profusely.

            Quinn sighed and took the dragon's tail in his jaws and dragged him towards the door. After kicking the door open and tossing the drake out, Quinn returned inside the restaurant. The other horntail remained rooted to the spot, shaking like a newly hatched dragonling.

            “Pay for your food and the mess then get out," Quinn said threateningly. He jabbed his tail at the smashed food on the floor. “Before I make you eat it."

            The horntail quickly snatched off the pouch tied around his neck and dropped it on the floor, the sound of the coins inside barely audible over his hurrying out of the door.

            “A'ight, everyone, show's over," Alyse said. “You can get back to your meals, now."

            The remaining humans and dragons looked at each other nervously before slowly going back to their tables. A few paid for their meals and left. Everyone avoided looking in Quinn's direction.

            Quinn sighed, gave the pouch of coins to Alyse, then got cleaning up the mess the drakes had made. He righted the tables that had been knocked over, but one of them had been broken. He dragged it into the back room where he would have the carpenter, Neil, repair it. Next, he used a rag to clean up the mess of food and drink.

As he worked, Alyse continued to tend to the customers' orders. Several customers even offered to help clean up, but he politely thanked them and said he would handle it alone.

When the mess was finally cleaned up, he returned to the kitchen.

            The pot had been moved from the stove so the stew wasn't ruined. He checked on the pie in the oven. After confirming it wasn't ready or burning, he took the large spoon and stirred it.

            “You shouldn't've done that, hon," Alyse said from behind him.

            Quinn sighed but didn't turn around. “You don't waste food in my restaurant. Everyone knows that. What were they fighting about anyway?"

            “Tark was annoyed that someone was getting their food before him. I tried to tell him you were back here working on it, but he wouldn't listen."

            “Tark…" Quinn pondered on the name for a moment as he began pouring stew into smaller bowls and lining them on a tray. “Isn't that the drake who gave you a hard time last week?"

            “That's the one."

            “Then I'm really glad I put him in his place."

            “You shouldn't, hon. He's Ragenta's chosen."

            “So?"

            “So, you can't just attack the Matriarch's chosen. Think of it as hitting someone else's spouse."

            Quinn whirled around. “You're joking."

            “I wouldn't make that up, hon. I know dragon life is still a little hard for you to follow, but a good rule to remember is that anything belonging to the Matriarch, you don't touch."

            He swore under his breath and walked over to the wash bin. “This is the last thing I need. The last shop owner who pissed her off had his store burned down." He grabbed the special scrub brush designed for his paws and laid the large pot on the counter so he could clean it. “What if she does that to me? I finally got the place my papa dreamed of."

            “Hey, I'm sure she won't be too hard on you. Everyone knows Tark is an ass."

            “That doesn't make me feel better about losing this place."

            “You're not losing the restaurant. If you want, I can look after the place for a few hours while you go talk to her."

            “I appreciate that, but we're short-staffed as it is. She'll come by sooner or later, so I'll deal with her then. What other orders do we need to take care of?"

            “I need two bowls of the stew and the pie when it's ready. And we got an order for three more cups of ale which reminds me."

            “All right, I'll take care of it. Can you keep an eye on the dining area for me?"

            Alyse nodded and left the kitchen. Quinn finished washing the dishes before going to fill out the order. The pie wasn't ready, so he poured some stew into bowls, placed them on a tray, and then carried it out to the guests.

            The fight from earlier had been seemingly forgotten as the dining area was filled with jovial laughter and grinning faces. Quinn wished he could join the guests for a drink when they asked, but there was too much work to do.

            He headed back into the kitchen to pour the cups of ale that was requested. The last cask of mead only had enough for one cup so he was forced to head into the storage area downstairs for more.

            The moment he reached the bottom of the stairs, he heard a noise from the back. He swore under his breath and hoped it was just a rat. But he also wasn't in the mood to have to kill it, dispose of the body, and then have to wash the blood off.

            He heard the noise again and stiffened. It sounded much larger than a rodent and seemed to be coming from the back near the ale casks. He crouched low and moved slowly so his claws didn't click on the floor.

            The intruder had stopped moving, but as he got closer, he caught a whiff of something that reminded him of garbage that had been left in the sun for too long. He almost gagged.

            Once Quinn was just out of striking range, he leaped over the casks. The human on the other side raised his head, icy-blue eyes widening in horror and a soundless scream peeling from his pale, dry lips.

            Quinn pinned the intruder to the floor with a single paw. The human's body felt so frail, Quinn felt as if his weight alone would shatter it. Upon closer inspection, the human was just approaching adulthood. The boy's face was smudged with dirt and he looked so pale he was nearly transparent. Greasy, brown hair clung to the sides of his panic-stricken face.

            “Please, please d-don't hurt me!" the boy cried.

            “If I wanted to hurt you, I'd have done it. Who are you and what are you doing here?"

            “Can ya let up first? Can't breathe."

            Quinn acquiesced. The boy slowly sat up and rubbed his chest. “Thought ya were goin to kill me."

            “I already told you: you would already be dead if that was what I wanted. Now answer my question."

            “Just lookin fer a place ta sleep. Slipped through the window." The boy's stomach growled loudly and his cheeks immediately turned red.

            Quinn chuckled. “Sounds like you wanted more than just a place to sleep. But that's an easy enough fix. Come on, I got some stew upstairs."

            “Just like that?"

            Quinn stopped and glanced over his shoulder at the boy. “You might be a trespasser, but no one goes hungry in my restaurant. Unless you'd rather I kick you out now?"

            The boy quickly shook his head, greasy hair flying in a storm around his face, and followed Quinn upstairs.

            Once back in the kitchen, Quinn poured the last of the stew into a bowl for the boy. The human nearly buried his face in it as he shoveled spoonfuls into his mouth. He ate so quickly, Quinn couldn't tell if the boy closed his mouth before swallowing. As the human ate, Quinn looked him over. The boy's clothes were so filthy, the original color couldn't be determined and was badly torn. Every exposed part of his body was smudged with dirt and his fingernails were black. Then his stench overpowered the smell of the stew. Quinn fought to keep from wrinkling his muzzle in disgust.

            Quinn waited until the boy had finished eating to ask, “I'm Quinn. What's your name?"

            “Harold."

            “Okay, Harold, I'm assuming you have no place to go since you broke into my basement for a nap." Harold opened his mouth but was quickly cut off. “You're appearance gives it away. I know dragons who sleep outside and are still less dirty than you."

            “Just fergot ta wash this mornin."

            “I can smell that you forgot yesterday, too. And the week before that."

            Harold's face turned red again.

            “I'm not trying to make you feel bad. I have a bathtub upstairs. It's a little big for you, but you can get washed up. And change outta those." He pointed to the boy's ratty shirt.

            Harold's blush deepened as he looked down at his clothes. He then snorted and raised his head, wearing a skeptical frown. “An' whaddya get outta this?"

            “Out of what?"

            “Helpin. Nuttin comes free. An' I broke inta yer place."

            “Not really the best time to be brining that up." Quinn got and checked on the pie again. It smelled delicious and it's crust had turned a lovely golden brown. He grabbed the tray in his jaws and sat it on the counter. He then turned back to Harold. “I don't want anything. I'm just trying to be nice and help you."

            Harold frowned. “Last man who said that tried ta fuck me."

            “Well, I'm not him," Quinn replied, holding his anger in check. “And dragons don't trade favors for sex."

            “An' the last derg who wanted ta 'help' tried ta eat me."

            “And you can see that I can feed myself."

            “Still ain't buyin it."

            “Well, maybe you should've thought of that before eating my food," Quinn said irritably. “And I'm getting tired of telling you that I would've killed you by now if I wanted you dead."

            Harold glared at him and shoved the bowl away, but he also couldn't take his eyes off of it.

            “Tell you what, Harold, in return for helping you, I want you to promise you'll never break in here again."

            He saw the wheels turning in the boy's head. Harold played with his hands and his eyes kept flitting back to the empty bowl with bits of broth clinging to its side.

            Alyse walked into the kitchen, a rifle in her hands. “Hey, Quinn, is everything—" she froze at the sight of Harold who scrambled into the corner. “Well, hello, hun. What's your name?"

            “That's Harold," Quinn said, smiling at the boy's reaction. “Why do you have a gun?"

            “Well, you've been gone for a while and it was quiet, so I got worried."

            He chuckled again. “I'm fine. Just talking to Harold here." He tossed the bowl into the washbin and turned back to her. “Are you okay closing up on your own? I want to take him in the back and get him cleaned up." Alyse nodded in response.

            “Don't need a bath," Harold grumbled. “Don't need yer help either."

            “You're getting one if you're going to be in my kitchen. I won't have you getting people sick. Now follow me."

            The boy grumbled under his breath as he followed Quinn through another door on the other side of the kitchen to the hall. But there was no denying the relief in his eyes when Quinn mentioned getting clean.

            The bathroom had been refitted for a dragon so it was more of a walk-in shower than a tub. The shower had been customized for dragon use with large brass levers to better work with a dragon's paws and a special shower head to better wash their scales.

            “Soap and washcloths are right there on the shelf," Quinn said, pointing at the shelf in the corner. “Leave your clothes by the door and get cleaned up. I'll have something clean waiting for you when you're done." He didn't wait for a reply before closing the door and going down the hall to the unused bedroom.

            The unused room had been set aside for Alyse in the event she needed a place to rest. It had also become the storage room for old clothes. It consisted mostly of coats customers left behind and never returned for, but Alyse also dropped off a lot of clothing after her last husband divorced her. As a dragon, Quinn had no use for them, but they made good rags in a pinch.

All of the clothes in the closet appeared too large for the boy, but he eventually found a pair of pants that were small enough to stop at the boy's chest, a belt that would need some extra notches in it, and a shirt that should only reach to his knees. He returned to the bathroom.

            “Whoa! What're ya doing?!" Harold cried. “I'm still in here!"

            “Relax, I'm just bringing you your clothes." Quinn placed the shirt and trousers on the nearby chair but kept the belt. He then left, kicking the filthy clothes on the floor into the hall as he went but left the door ajar. Laying the belt flat and using a single claw, he carefully cut new notches into the belt.

            “So what happened to your parents?" Quinn asked.

            There was a brief silence before Harold replied. “Never had any."

            “Someone must've looked after you when you were a baby or you wouldn't be here."

            “If ya mean put up wit my ass until they could put me out, then yeah, there was someone lookin after me."

            “What about Ragenta? Sure, she's a bit…aggressive, but she would've given you a place to stay."

            “Who?"

            “The Matriarch. You know, the dragon who rules over this area."

            “Oh. Don't know 'er."

            Quinn tilted his head. “How do you not know about her? Everyone knows who she is."

            “Didn't have a lotta people to tell me shit."

            Another long silence.

            “You've never lived around other people, have you?" Quinn asked.

            “Whaddya care anyway?" the boy spat.

Quinn inspected the belt. It wasn't the neatest upgrade, but it should fit better now. “Force of habit. My papa always helped those in need."

“I ain't ask fer yer pity."

Quinn said nothing, knowing he had upset the boy. He left the belt with the rest of the clothes, eliciting another angry outburst from Harold about his privacy, and then headed down the hall to help Alyse.

            The customers had already left, and the older woman was hard at work, wiping down the tables but several still had dishes on them.

            Quinn started gathering the remaining dishes and piling them on a single table. “You're hard at work, I see. How'd we do?"

            “Pretty well. I haven't counted yet, but your meat pie was a big hit."

            Quinn smiled. “Glad they liked it." His smile faded. “Too bad it might be the last one I make in a long time."

            “What do you mean, hon?"

            “I mean Ragenta is coming to burn the place down. I'm gonna have to rebuild from scratch."

            “You don't know that," Alyse said firmly.

            “I hope you're right. This place was my papa's dream. I can't let something happen to it."

            “I know, hon. Now, Ragenta's got a temper, but she's not unreasonable."

            Quinn said nothing as he carefully balanced the pile of dishes on his back and carried them into the kitchen. He wished he had never done it. But whenever someone wasted food around him, he saw red.

            He tried to push the thoughts away as he washed the dishes, but the stain of fear lingered and wouldn't wash out. His paws trembled and it was hard to hold the plates and bowls in place as he scrubbed them. Twice, he knocked one to the floor, but thankfully, the dishes were made sturdier than most so they didn't shatter.

He was starting to wash out the mugs when he heard footsteps coming from down the hall. Harold soon appeared in the doorway. The clothes fit him better than Quinn expected, but it was still obvious they weren't for someone his size. The sleeves were folded several times and still reached beyond his wrists, and he had to hold the pants up to keep them on.

Quinn fought the urge to laugh. “Those clothes look nice on you."

Harold snorted. “Feels like I'm swimmin in 'em."

“Sorry about that. It was the best I could find." He turned back to the dishes. “You haven't been eating too well, so it's hard to find anything in your size."

“So, this yer family's place?"

The change in subject wasn't lost on Quinn. “No. It wasn't built until after my papa died."

“Sorry."

“It's fine. My papa taught me a lot: reading, math, cooking. He always wanted a restaurant where humans and dragons could eat, but he never had the chance to see it happen."

Harold's brow rose. “Dergs do that kind of stuff?"

“Huh? No, my papa was a human."

“What?!"

Quinn roared with laughter. “I was 'adopted' by a human. I don't remember what happened to my parents, but my papa took me in when I was young."

“Why would he do that?"

“I don't know. Pity, kindness, guilt. I never asked him. Anyway, my papa only had two rules: Never let anyone go hungry and don't waste food."

Harold nodded and played with his hands. “So, what happens now?"

“Well, if you started trusting me, I wouldn't mind if—"

“Quinn!" A voice shouted. It was Ragenta, the Matriarch of the area. “We need to talk!"

Quinn's heart leaped into his throat. “Stay here. I'll be right back."

He hurried back into the large dining area. Alyse stood in the middle of the room, playing with the hem of her apron. Sitting at one of the tables was a large Nightstalker. Her black scales reminded him of the night sky, including the double pair of curved horns. The only difference was her yellow eyes which stood out even more thanks to her ebony form. Behind her was who he assumed to be one of her Sentinels. He didn't recognize this one, but it was a Nightstalker, same as she.

Quinn stood next to Alyse and bowed low. “My Matriarch, what can I do for you?"

            “Sorry, Quinn, but I'm not here to eat," Ragenta replied. “You attacked my chosen today."

            Quinn dropped his head lower. “I'm sorry, but he—"

            “I know. He acts like a hatchling that hasn't been raised right." She sighed and rose from her seat, approaching him. Quinn fixed his gaze on the floor and gave Alyse a gentle nudge with his tail, moving her behind him. “But you know I can't just let that go."

            “I know that, but—"

            “No, no. You're done talking. Now you listen."

            Quinn snapped his muzzle closed.

            “I know dragon laws are hard for you to understand, so I'll spell it out for you. Just because you were offered to become my chosen, doesn't give you any special privileges."

            Quinn swallowed, his tail quivering. “Ragenta—"

“Did I say you could speak?"

            “Who do ya think ya are?!" Harold shouted. Quinn snatched his head up in horror. The human stood in the doorway and pointed an angry finger at Ragenta. “Ya gonna punish him knowing yer friend is—"

            Quinn bolted towards the boy and slammed into him, knocking him back into the kitchen. The sound of pots and trays falling carried easily into the dining area.

            “Please forgive my newest employee," Quinn said quickly. He bowed again, touching his snout to the floor. “He's new here and doesn't know how things work around here yet."

            “That boy works for you?"

“Yes, he does."

“Really? I don't remember seeing him last time I was here."

            “Like I said, he's new. I just hired him two days--"

            “Tell me the truth." The voice spoke directly in his mind, soothing and gentle but also with authority as a parent addresses a child. “And look at me when you talk to me."

            “He doesn't work here. I just met him today." The words poured out of him without hesitation or warning. He was horrified as his body continued its defiance. “He has no one to look after him and I want to help him."

            “Was that so hard?" Ragenta asked, smiling sweetly. She crossed the room to where Quinn stood. He could no longer hide his fear and trembled in place. “So you take responsibility for the boy?"

            Quinn slowly nodded. Her amiable smile returned before struck him hard across the muzzle with her paw. He staggered into a pair of tables, scattering them and the surrounding chairs.

            Ragenta spun and headed for the door. “That is for smacking around my chosen. I don't want to hurt you, but it had to be done. I'll ignore the boy, but when I come back here, he better know some manners." She shot one last look over her shoulder. “Or I'll punish both of you."

            Alyse hurried to Quinn's side. “Are you all right, hon?"

            “I'm fine. She didn't even use her claws." He slowly stood and ran his tongue across his teeth. They were still there, but he tasted blood.

            “Well, you still got cut pretty good. Hold still." She gently dabbed at the side of his face with her apron, but he still hissed in pain.

            “I can't believe I just spilled everything to her like that."

            “That's a Matriarch's Call, hon. You're lucky all she did was make you tell the truth. I heard some of the nastier ones make dragons attack people."

            He hissed again when she touched another part of his face. “If that's the case, why doesn't she tell her chosen to behave?"

            “If I remember right, the Call doesn't last that long. Come on, hon, we're gonna need to clean it."

“I think she's still bitter about being turned down," Quinn said. He groaned as he stood to follow Alyse towards the kitchen. “It was a year ago."

“Well, dragons like to hold grudges."

            “I'll keep that in mind."

When they entered the kitchen, Harold was just picking himself up off the floor. Several pots had fallen around him, but it didn't appear that any serious damage had been done to the boy. He didn't look happy to see Quinn, however.

            “I'm sorry for running into you like that," Quinn said.

            Harold snorted in response.

“You should be sorry," Alyse admonished, slapping Quinn on the shoulder. It was more surprising than painful. “Did you have to run into him that hard?"

            “It was either that or Ragenta slap him like she slapped me. You saw how thin he is. She'd take his head off."

            “Bitch can try," Harold grumbled.

            Alyse whirled on the boy with an icy glare. “You watch your mouth. If she or one of her sentinels heard you talking like that, they'll do worse than leave you with more than a few bruises."

            “What she said," Quinn added. “She's fair, but Matriach's don't like being insulted. If you don't hold your tongue she will feed it to you."

            Harold's eyes widened as he nervously reached for his neck.

            “Anyway, you come along, too," Alyse said. “I need to make sure Quinn didn't break anything."

            Quinn and Harold followed Alyse into the back hall to the spare bedroom. She grabbed a small box from the dresser emptied its contents; some bandages and medicinal ointment, on the bed. Without a word, Quinn sat down in front of her so she could tend to his injury.

            “There was something I wanted to say to you before we were interrupted," Quinn said to Harold. “If you're not too bitter about me running into you, I'm hoping you wouldn't mind having a job here."

            “A job?"

            “Yeah. This place gets pretty packed around this time of year. I spend most of my time in the kitchen so poor Alyse has to manage everything else on her own." He flinched again as she put the bandage on.

            “Oh, stop, you," Alyse said. “You've taken far worse and never made a peep."

            “It still hurts." He turned back to Harold. “Anyway, we could use the help. I'll pay you and you can sleep here. I have the room."

            Harold stared in silence. Alyse finished bandaging Quinn and it came Harold's turn for inspection. Other than a few bruises, the boy was fine.

            Quinn pointed out that they still needed to finish cleaning up for the night before they could turn in, so they returned to the kitchen. He was surprised to find the boy following them.

            “Figured ya could use the help."

            “Well, I definitely won't say now," Quinn said. “Why don't you go help Alyse in the dining area?"

            Harold nodded and headed for the door. Once he reached the portal, he stopped and turned around. “Back there, ya lied to that derg fer me. Why'd ya do that?"

            “Because I knew she would do worse to you than she would to me. Just so it's clear: I don't expect you to work for me just because I helped you out. You're free to say no."

Harold stared at his clothes for a moment then looked up. “When do I start?"

Quinn smiled. “Right now. Finish helping Alyse clean up and you'll be done for the night."

---

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