The Beast Tamer's Unwanted Nursery

Double trouble

The air in the shop was still thick with the smell of ozone and burnt fabric, a scent that Veydran was beginning to fear would become his permanent signature. He was on his knees, clutching a broom, when the System chime echoed—a sound like glass marbles hitting a marble floor.

"Not again," Veydran groaned, his shoulders sagging. "Please, for the love of the light, tell me that was just a notification about the insurance premium."

The dragon, currently dozing on his lap, didn't agree. Its ears pricked up, the obsidian scales along its spine rising in a sharp, jagged ridge. It didn't purr this time. It hissed—a sound like steam escaping a high-pressure pipe.

"What is it, little menace? Are you hungry again?" Veydran asked, nudging the beast gently. "We have to wait for the delivery, remember? No jumping on the counters, no melting the floorboards."

The dragon ignored him, its head snapping toward the front of the shop.

CRACK.

The sound didn't come from a door opening. It was a sharp, localized rupture of space—a sound like a whip-crack magnified ten times over. A display case, specifically the one housing delicate silver-spun dreamcatchers, simply ceased to exist in its current form. It shattered into a thousand glittering shards.

In the center of the debris stood a creature no bigger than the dragon, but vastly different. It was a mass of white, storm-cloud fur, with eyes that flickered with arcs of violet electricity. Every time its paws touched the floorboards, tiny blue sparks danced across the wood.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Veydran shrieked, dropping the broom. "Is this a pet shop or a war zone? System! Why are you dropping predators into my inventory like this?"

The dragon reacted instantly. It launched itself off Veydran’s lap, wings flared wide, a low, rumbling growl emanating from its chest. The thunder-wolf responded with a high-pitched, yipping bark that sent a visible shockwave through the room.

"Stop! Both of you, stop it right now!" Veydran scrambled to his feet, arms outstretched as if he could physically intercept the impending collision of scales and fur. "That’s an antique mahogany counter! You are not allowed to shred it!"

The dragon lunged, a puff of flame escaping its jaws. The wolf dodged with a blur of speed, moving so fast it seemed to blink across the room. It landed on the shelf behind the counter, knocking over a jar of dried sea-salt.

"Get down!" Veydran yelled, lunging for the wolf. "You’re going to electrocute the entire plumbing system!"

The wolf snarled, a static charge building up around its mane until Veydran’s own hair stood on end. He felt the familiar, uncomfortable prickle of electricity against his skin.

"Look, I don't know who sent you, but you’re clearly lost!" Veydran shouted, his voice cracking with stress. "This is not a boarding house for magical apex predators! This is a shop! A place of commerce!"

The dragon dove, pinning the wolf against the wall. The wolf snapped, its teeth sparking with violet light.

"No fighting! No biting! No destroying the merchandise!" Veydran dived between them, his hands frantically tapping at the air, calling up the blue interface of the System. "Containment! Give me containment! I need something heavy, something iron-wrought, and I need it five seconds ago!"

[NOTIFICATION: EMERGENCY CONTAINMENT PROTOCOL ACTIVATED]

[Purchase Cost: 50 Gold]

[Confirm?]

"Fifty gold? That’s my entire savings! You’re robbing me blind!" Veydran screamed at the air, his fingers trembling as he tapped 'Confirm'.

"Just take the money! Take it all! Just stop them from tearing this place down!"

The shop floor shuddered. Suddenly, massive iron bars—cool to the touch and engraved with ancient, dampening runes—erupted from the floorboards, snapping together to form a hexagonal cage. The dragon and the thunder-wolf were caught mid-tussle, forced apart by the sudden appearance of the barrier.

"Stay there," Veydran wheezed, falling against the cage. He was gasping for air, his heart hammering against his ribs. "Don't you look at me like that. Both of you. You are both equally to blame."

The dragon huffed, smoke curling from its snout, and settled onto its haunches, glaring at the wolf. The wolf, conversely, let out a frustrated chirp, pacing the perimeter of the iron bars as if searching for a gap.

"You’re a nightmare," Veydran whispered, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor, pressed against the cold metal of the cage. "I just wanted to sell incense. I wanted a quiet life with a pug. How did I end up as a ringmaster for a circus of disasters?"

The dragon reached through the bars, nudging Veydran’s elbow with its head. The wolf, after a moment of hesitation, trotted over and plopped down on the other side of Veydran’s back, its fur crackling with stray static.

"Oh, don't you dare," Veydran said, though his hand subconsciously reached up to brush the wolf’s soft, charged fur. "You’re both trying to guilt me into more food, aren't you? It won't work. The delivery hasn't arrived yet."

The dragon trilled—a soft, pathetic sound that tore at Veydran’s resolve. The wolf let out a small, high-pitched whimper that sounded suspiciously like a baby crying.

"I am not a parent," Veydran muttered, leaning his head back against the bars. "I am a merchant. A professional. I do not have a nursery. I have a shop."

"Veydran?"

The voice was deep, resonant, and far too familiar. Veydran’s blood ran cold. He recognized that cadence. It was the sound of iron-shod boots on cobblestone, the weight of a greave-clad stride.

He froze, his hand still resting on the wolf’s back.

"Veydran, are you in there? The shop door is unlocked, and I hear… is that a wolf? I could have sworn I heard a storm inside your shop."

Veydran’s eyes widened. He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the fact that his knees were shaking. "Osvan! Sir Osvan! Just—just a minute! I’m currently… doing some inventory! It’s a very noisy process!"

Outside the glass, the shadow of a tall, broad-shouldered man darkened the threshold. Osvan Malk, the local knight, peered through the glass. Even from outside, his presence felt heavy, a stark contrast to the chaotic energy inside.

"Inventory?" Osvan’s voice was muffled, skeptical. "Veydran, the last time you said you were doing inventory, the street smelled like a sulfur pit for three days. Open the door. My scouts reported a strange light flare in this district. I’m here to check on the safety of the civilians."

"Everything is perfectly safe!" Veydran shouted, his voice climbing an octave. He frantically gestured for the creatures to stay silent. "I’m just… handling a bit of electrical feedback from some old relics. Nothing a knight needs to be concerned about! Really!"

Osvan’s hand touched the latch. The handle groaned, moving inches. "I’m coming in, Veydran. If you’ve got something dangerous in there, I’d rather you tell me before I have to draw my steel."

Veydran looked at the cage, then at the ruins of his shop. He was trapped. If Osvan saw a dragon and a thunder-wolf, there was no way he was walking out of this as a free man.

"Osvan, wait!" Veydran lunged for the door, slamming his hand against the glass. "It’s really not a good time! I’m… I’m in the middle of a very private religious observance! You wouldn't want to interrupt that, would you?"

Osvan went still, his hand hovering over the handle. He peered through the glass, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the room. "A religious observance? With a broom, an empty crate, and what looks like a mountain of broken display cases?"

Veydran felt his pulse thrumming in his throat. "It’s a very messy ritual. The sect… well, we don't talk about the sect, Osvan. It’s very secretive. Very messy."

Osvan didn't pull away. He just sighed, a long, weary sound. "Veydran, you are a terrible liar. But if you’re actually praying to something, I suppose I shouldn't interfere. I’ll come back in an hour. If the shop is still standing, I expect a better explanation than ‘secretive ritual.’"

Veydran let out a breath he felt he’d been holding since morning. "Yes! Thank you, Osvan! An hour is perfect! See you then!"

He watched the knight’s shadow recede. Only then did he collapse against the door, his heart finally beginning to slow.

"An hour," Veydran whispered to the empty room. "I have exactly one hour before the knight comes back to arrest me, the delivery arrives, and I have to figure out how to explain why my shop is suddenly a zoo."

The dragon chirped, nudging the iron bars. The thunder-wolf yipped, its tail thumping against the floor.

"Yeah, yeah," Veydran sighed, sliding down the door frame to sit on the floor. "I know. You’re hungry. I’m hungry. We’re all going to be miserable together."