The Beast Tamer's Unwanted Nursery

Costumer Service For Monster

"Watchmen?" Veydran hissed, his voice pitched high enough to make his own ears ring. "Don't be ridiculous, Jhaevik! You know the watchmen don't touch zoning disputes on a Tuesday. They’re all over at the tavern by the canal. You're just trying to scare me so you can lowball me on the shipment of moon-thistle you think I’m hiding."

He didn't wait for a reply. With a shove that required more desperation than muscle, he threw his weight against the heavy oak door, sliding the bolt home just as the wood groaned under Jhaevik’s weight.

"Veydran! You ungrateful little toad! Open this door!" Jhaevik’s muffled voice was indignant, his rhythmic pounding now a frantic battering. "I can smell the ozone from here! That isn't incense, you coward. That’s raw mana discharge. You’ve got a loose relic in there, haven't you? Trying to bypass the safety taxes again?"

Veydran spun around, his chest heaving. The shop was a mess. Wisps of acrid smoke still curled toward the ceiling, and the smell of burnt fabric was overpowering. He looked down at the floor. The dragon—his newfound, terrifying, obsidian liability—was staring up at him with unblinking, ember-colored eyes.

"Get under the counter," Veydran whispered, frantically gesturing at the dark, cluttered space beneath his main workspace. "Go! Hide! If he sees you, I’m getting evicted, and you’re going to be turned into a pair of boots and a fancy handbag. Under!"

The dragon didn't move. It tilted its head, a low, inquisitive trill vibrating in its chest.

"I am not joking," Veydran hissed, his voice dropping to a panicked growl. He grabbed a stray piece of dragon-hide leather—a leftover scrap from a previous project—and tossed it over the creature’s back to mask its scales. "Move it!"

The dragon huffed, a tiny puff of smoke escaping its nostrils, but it finally scurried into the shadows beneath the heavy oak counter. Veydran lunged for his apron, smoothing it out and grabbing a nearby feather duster, desperately trying to look like he had been doing anything other than holding a creature of destruction in his arms. He took a deep, shuddering breath, smoothed his hair back, and swung the door open just as Jhaevik pulled back his fist for another strike.

Jhaevik stumbled forward, his nose twitching like a rabbit’s. He was a tall man, draped in layers of silk that smelled of too many spices, his eyes sharp and calculating.

"About time," Jhaevik snapped, stepping inside and nearly tripping over a scorched wooden crate fragment. "What in the seven hells happened in here? It looks like a siege engine went off in your lobby."

Veydran offered a tight, practiced smile, his fingers twitching behind his back. "Just a bit of a malfunction, Jhaevik. You know how these antique mana lamps are. The shielding cracked, and before I knew it, the whole room was filled with sparks. A real headache, honestly. I was just about to start the repairs."

Jhaevik didn't look convinced. He walked deeper into the shop, his boots crunching on the charred debris. He stopped, peering suspiciously at the pile of ruined, blackened scrolls on the wall. "A lamp? That’s a lot of heat for a faulty lamp, Veydran. And that smell… that’s not lamp oil. That’s sulfur. You haven't been dealing with the fire-kin from the lower districts, have you?"

"Fire-kin? Please," Veydran chuckled, though the sound was brittle and dry. He stepped between Jhaevik and the counter, moving with a fluid, nervous energy. "I’m a respectable merchant, Jhaevik. I don't deal with the lower-tier traders. I stick to the guild-approved inventory. Can I help you with something, or are you just here to critique my housekeeping?"

Jhaevik narrowed his eyes, his gaze darting toward the counter. "I’m here for my cut of the herbal order you promised last week. But since you’re clearly in the middle of a disaster, I suppose I should check to see if you’ve burnt my cargo, too."

"Your cargo is perfectly safe," Veydran lied, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. "It’s in the vault. Completely sealed. No fire, no sulfur, no issues whatsoever."

"And the smell?" Jhaevik pushed, stepping closer until he was nearly crowding Veydran. "Why does the air feel like it’s vibrating? I’ve seen mana leaks, Veydran. They don't usually growl."

Veydran froze. "They… they don't growl. That was me. Stomach issues. I had a bad batch of street meat for lunch."

Jhaevik raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You’re a terrible liar, you know that? Your left eye is twitching."

Suddenly, a sound cut through the silence—a sharp, high-pitched hiccup.

Veydran’s blood ran cold.

From under the counter, the dragon let out an involuntary sneeze. It was a small, reflexive sound, but the result was instantaneous. A brilliant, blinding flash of blue-white light erupted from beneath the wood, illuminating the entire shop like a lightning strike. The air rippled with a surge of raw, kinetic energy that rattled the crystal vials on the shelves.

Jhaevik yelped, jumping back and shielding his eyes. "What was that? What was that!"

Veydran didn't skip a beat. He lunged toward a display case, throwing it open and grabbing a faulty, shattered glass orb he’d been meaning to discard for months. He held it up, his face painted with a look of extreme, put-upon annoyance.

"There!" Veydran shouted, pointing to the orb. "The containment seal! It’s completely fried. That’s the third one this week. Cheap components, Jhaevik! The guild is flooding the market with these unstable mana-storage units, and look at the damage they cause! I’m telling you, it’s a hazard to the entire street."

Jhaevik panted, his hand over his chest as he stared at the glowing, flickering orb in Veydran’s hands. "That… that light was blinding. You could have blinded me, you absolute idiot!"

"I told you! It’s the lamp!" Veydran moved with frantic haste, shoving the orb into a heavy iron box and slamming the lid shut. He wiped his hands on his apron, acting as if he were cleaning off residual heat. "I’m going to have to file a complaint with the regional trade inspector. This is the second time this week one of these has flared up. If I had been closer, I’d be missing my eyebrows."

Jhaevik looked around the shop, his suspicion warring with his desire to get away from the dangerous, unpredictable gear. "You need to hire better suppliers, Veydran. Honestly, you’re going to blow up the block."

"Believe me, I’m looking into it," Veydran said, ushering Jhaevik toward the front door. "Now, I’d love to stay and chat about the joys of professional inventory management, but I have to scrub this shop clean before the smell alerts the inspectors. You don't want to be here when they arrive, do you? They don't take bribes, and they certainly don't care about faulty lamps."

Jhaevik glanced at the door, then back at the dark, silent space under the counter. The threat of an inspection was clearly enough to tip the scales. "Fine. Fine! I’ll get my herbs from someone else today. But don't think I’ve forgotten about the order, Veydran. I’ll be back tomorrow, and you’d better have my goods ready."

"Tomorrow," Veydran echoed, his hand already on the latch. "Bright and early. I’ll have everything waiting."

As soon as Jhaevik stepped out into the street, Veydran slammed the door and locked it, sliding the bolt home and leaning his forehead against the cool wood. He didn't move for a long moment, listening to the merchant’s retreating footsteps.

"That was too close," he whispered to the silence.

He slid down to the floor, his legs feeling like jelly. He looked toward the counter. The dragon peeked its head out, its golden eyes blinking with a strange, almost human intelligence. It let out a soft, low hum, the sound no longer sounding like a threat, but like an apology.

Veydran reached out, his hand shaking, and stroked the creature’s snout. "You have to be quieter, you understand? No sneezing. No flashing lights. No fire. We are currently trying to maintain a low profile, and you are… the opposite of a low profile."

The dragon chirped and nudged his palm, its scales warm against his skin.

Veydran let out a long, jagged breath. He looked down at his own wrist, where the System notification flickered into existence, casting a soft, blue glow over his lap. A new window appeared, hovering in the air with a faint, persistent chime.

[NOTIFICATION: MISSION UPDATE]

[Status: Initial Containment Successful]

[Next Phase Initiated: Procurement of Essential Sustenance]

[Secondary Arrival Pending: The delivery of 'Abyssal Dragon Feed' is scheduled to arrive at your storefront within the hour. Ensure the premises are secure for the incoming arrival of the beast's dietary requirements.]

Veydran stared at the text, his eyes widening. "Within the hour? Are you kidding me?"

He looked at the dragon, which had now fully emerged from under the counter and was curling up on his lap. It looked at the glowing blue text with a predatory hunger that made Veydran’s stomach turn.

"I don't even know what Abyssal Dragon Feed is," Veydran whispered to the empty, charred shop. "But if I have to talk my way out of another visit from Jhaevik to get it through the door, I think I’m going to go insane."

The dragon just purred, tucking its head under its wing, already dreaming of its next meal. Veydran looked around his ruined shop, sighed, and started the long, agonizing process of picking up the pieces.