“Then you are truly fortunate.”
Irene smacked her lips, resealed the wooden barrel, and placed it back on the ground.
“If you had traded this alcohol earlier, it’s highly questionable whether the Iron Tooth Tribe would even exist today.”
“H-How could that be?”
Fido looked completely bewildered, clearly unaware of the alcohol's true value.
Perhaps this was a case of the ignorant being fearless,
Irene couldn't help but think to herself.
After Irene briefly explained the value of the alcohol, the old kobold was left speechless with shock for a long time.
If this alcohol was truly as precious as the black dragon before him claimed, then his tribe had likely been dancing on the edge of a blade all these years.
He had wanted to sell this alcohol to those human traveling merchants more than once to trade for things more useful to the tribe.
But every time he thought about how it was left behind by their ancestors, he abandoned the idea.
Fido knew the greedy faces of those human merchants better than anyone.
The dried fruit his people painstakingly saved up for half a year could only be traded for a single small bag of salt from those treacherous merchants.
If they were to see this alcohol, those greedy merchants would probably resort to outright robbery.
The Iron Tooth Tribe didn't even have a single class-holder, making resistance utterly impossible.
Even worse, those greedy scoundrels might threaten them to hand over the rest of the alcohol.
And after squeezing out every last bit of value from them...
Realizing this, Fido felt a chill run down his spine, and his vision went momentarily dark.
If his foolish actions had ended up destroying the Iron Tooth Tribe because of this,
how could he ever face his ancestors in the afterlife after he died?
Striving to steady his trembling body, Fido straightened his old back as much as possible and looked up at the black dragon before him with complete sincerity.
“Y-Your Grace... there is still some alcohol left in the cellar. I will bring it all to you right away.”
He murmured, turning around with trembling steps to walk toward the tunnel entrance.
This alcohol was so precious that trading it with the merchants with their tribe's meager strength was practically suicide.
It would be far better to offer it all to these two black dragons to curry favor with them.
Under the protection of the two Graces, at least the safety of the tribe would be guaranteed.
“No need.”
Irene tapped the wooden barrel of alcohol with her claw, producing a dull, thudding sound.
“Take these and trade them with the merchants.”
“Trade them?”
Leaning on his cane, the old kobold turned back and looked up at the behemoth before him in confusion.
Selling such precious things to those merchants would surely trigger their greed, inevitably leading to conflict.
Could it be...
A possibility crossed his mind.
“Your Grace, do you plan to make a move against those merchants?”
Should one expect any less from an evil dragon? When Fido voiced this thought, Daviel's eyes instantly lit up, looking eager to try.
“No.”
Irene dismissed Fido's dangerous idea without the slightest hesitation.
As a hatchling, she had no desire to expose herself too early.
Keeping a low profile and growing in secret was the way to go.
Anyone who dared to cause trouble and run wild while they were still weak was either a child of destiny or an absolute idiot.
Before Fido could ask again, Irene pushed the wooden barrel forward.
“Such a large quantity of highly pure alcohol would certainly invite covetous eyes. But what if the purity isn't that high, and the quantity isn't that large?”
“What do you mean, Your Grace?”
Fido's facial fur creased together.
Although kobolds were humanoids, they weren't particularly intelligent.
Even as the oldest and wisest member of the tribe, he couldn't guess what the black dragon in front of him was trying to convey.
“Dilute this alcohol with water. Mix ten barrels of water into one barrel of alcohol to lower its quality, and then sell it in small, frequent batches.”
“By taking things slow and steady like this, those merchants shouldn't be blinded by greed.”
Irene said.
“But...”
Fido was still somewhat hesitant.
“What if those merchants ask where this alcohol came from? How should we explain it?”
“Where else could it come from?”
Irene lowered her head, her golden eyes staring down at the slightly hunched old kobold.
Under Fido's puzzled gaze, she said in a deep voice:
“I brewed it.”
“Huh?”
Daviel and Fido uttered confused sounds almost simultaneously.
Ignoring their reactions, Irene continued:
“Remember, from now on, I am a human mixologist who happened to arrive in the God-Forsaken Land.”
“All of this alcohol is brewed by me, and you are merely selling it on my behalf.”
The old kobold fell silent for a moment before finally bowing his head.
“As you wish, Your Grace.”
Although he didn't understand why this black dragon insisted on selling the alcohol,
since Her Grace had spoken, she must have her reasons. As her vassal, his only duty was to execute her orders.
“Sis, why sell it?”
Seeing the kobolds orderly loading the wooden barrels back onto the cart, Daviel looked at Irene with eager eyes:
“I haven't even tasted it yet.”
“For gold coins,” Irene said.
Having transitioned into a mage, she knew all too well how expensive being a spellcaster was.
To cast higher-tier spells and advance to higher mage ranks, one needed a vast foundation of magical knowledge.
That precious magical knowledge wasn't free; it all had to be purchased with gold coins.
This alone was a hefty investment.
Not to mention inscribing magic scrolls
and concocting potions.
All of that required massive amounts of gold coins to purchase the necessary magical materials.
To walk faster and further on this path, throwing money at the problem was the best solution.
If she could sell this alcohol, the gold coins she earned would be enough to take her magic to the next level.
This was far more efficient than relying on a dragon's natural growth over time to gain strength.
“I see.”
Daviel nodded with half-understanding, though who knew what he was thinking, before casting his gaze back onto the barrels of alcohol.
“Sis... can we keep at least one barrel? I still haven't tasted it...”
Irene glanced at her silly younger brother and shook her head rather helplessly, before calling out to Fido and the others who had just finished loading the cart:
“Leave two barrels behind.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Receiving the command, Fido moved quickly.
After instructing the others to unload two barrels of alcohol, he pushed the wooden cart and disappeared into the dark tunnel.
Daviel grabbed his long-awaited barrel of alcohol, popped the cork, sniffed it, and tried taking a small sip.
Then, with an excited expression, he began pouring it straight into his mouth.
The liquid overflowed from the corners of his mouth, but he couldn't care less.
Until half the barrel had gone down, Daviel suddenly grimaced, his face contorting into a mask of pure agony.
“Well, how is it? Delicious?”
Irene took a sip of her own alcohol, swirled the wooden barrel in her claw, and spoke with undisguised disdain in her voice.
Just a four-year-old little dragon hatchling, yet he was trying to learn how to drink.
“Cough, cough...”
Daviel coughed, barely managing to wipe the agonizing expression from his face. Wiping away the alcohol spilled all over himself, he stubbornly insisted:
“It's... it's absolutely delicious!”
Sensing that he lacked confidence, he quickly added:
“There's just not much of it, so I can't bear to finish it all at once. I'll save the rest for next time.”
“Heh...”
Irene watched with utter disdain as Daviel frantically plugged the wooden barrel back with the cork, turned his back to her,
and began vigorously fanning his mouth with his claw.
After a long while, the little black dragon seemed to recover.
He turned back around as if nothing had happened, changing the subject with a very serious expression:
“Sis, what if those merchants want to meet you, the 'mixologist'?”
Hearing this, Irene swallowed the alcohol in her mouth, set the wooden barrel aside with Mage Hand, and spoke:
“Then let them meet me.”
“But you're a...”
Daviel cut himself off mid-sentence, his eyes suddenly widening.
“A human?!”
Within his line of sight, Irene was nowhere to be found.
In her place stood a little girl clad in an extremely ill-fitting mage robe.
...
“Tsk, this little mage's robe is a bit too big. I'll have to alter it later.”
Irene rolled up her sleeves and looked up with her small head at the terrifying behemoth before her.
“What do you think?”
“This is a spell of my own creation. I call it Polymorph.”
Daviel stared blankly for a couple of seconds before lowering his body, his two large eyes staring intently at the little girl before him.
“What are you staring at? Haven't you ever seen a beauty before?”
Irene rolled up her sleeves and looked Daviel straight in the eyes, catching her own reflection in his massive pupils.
Right now, she looked tiny.
Her waist-length black hair fell somewhat messily behind her back.
On her slightly chubby, baby-faced cheeks sat two golden eyes that shone like stars.
The oversized black mage robe was draped loosely over her body.
Her smooth little feet peeked out from beneath the robe, stepping onto the cold ground.
It gave off the distinct feeling of a child secretly wearing an adult's clothes.
“Sis, you're so tiny.”
Daviel extended his claw, sizing up the little girl before him. The hot white breath puffing from his nostrils blew right into the little dragon girl's face.
“Feels like I could swallow you in a single bite.”
Irene fanned away the white mist. Hearing his words, she pushed off the ground with force, leaping two meters into the air under Daviel's astonished gaze.
She gave him a hard thwack on the head with her tiny fist, producing a dull thud.
“Swallow your head!”
Daviel's face instantly scrunched up. He sat up, using his claw to cover the scales on his head.
“Hiss... and here I thought I could bully you for once. How is your strength still so ridiculous even when you're this small?”
“Heh...” Irene landed gracefully on the ground. With a look of utter disdain, she kicked Daviel's toe, tilted her head up, put her hands on her hips, and said:
“I didn't actually turn into a human, you know. What kind of daydream are you having?”
Thump!
The back of her mage robe suddenly lifted, and a large tail covered in black scales slipped out from underneath.
Irene glanced back and swished her dragon tail rather helplessly.
“Tsk. It seems using more than fifty percent of my strength carries the risk of exposing myself. I still need to make further improvements.”
Ignoring Daviel, Irene waved her small hand. A few space gems flew over from thin air, landing steadily in her grasp.
She retrieved a magic book from one of them, sat cross-legged on the ground, and began flipping through the pages.
Her restless tail swished back and forth behind her from time to time.
Ever since leaving the Great Gana Forest, she had been diligently studying these spells.
By now, she had thoroughly mastered the Bronze and Black Iron Rank spells recorded in these books.
Ultimately, casting magic for a mage was simply the process of constructing a spell model with mana and then releasing it.
The higher the tier of the magic, the more complex the spell model required.
It also demanded greater mental strength and higher quality of mana.
Yet, in the end, all magic shared the same underlying principles.
As long as one altered some of the connection pathways without causing the structure to collapse, it would become an entirely new spell.
This Polymorph spell was derived by reverse-engineering and modifying the Polymorph Sheep spell.
However, looking at it now, there was still plenty of room for improvement.
Seeing the little dragon girl immersed in her magic research, Daviel found it rather boring and lay down to space out.
Only the rustling sound of pages turning echoed through the silent dragon's lair.
The little girl sat cross-legged on the ground, her tail swaying left and right in a steady rhythm.
Rate on N.U.
