Aylin didn’t take well to flying. The screaming died down quick enough, fortunately, though only because Aylin seemed to be someone with good control over her nerves. Sable sympathized, but she wanted to be on with things, and hiking the entire way to Lake Plateglass wasn’t on the table. Flying was too convenient.

Plus, it wasn’t like Sable would drop her. She might not have an amazing handle on her new body, but keeping her claw tight and staying in the air wasn’t a tall order. Though the weight imbalance took some adjusting.

Aylin guided her across the sprawling green forest. The flight didn’t take long, but wasn’t quick, either. Sable traveled fast, but there was a lot of ground to cover.

Soon enough, they’d arrived above a lake with a surface as flawless as a mirror. ‘Lake Plateglass’, Aylin had called it, and Sable saw why. There was an almost ethereal serenity to the lake. And, as promised, at the center protruded a small island.

The lake itself was a large, sprawling body of water. It seemed smaller from high up, but as Sable descended and gently set Aylin to the ground, who clutched to the grass gratefully, she realized it was much bigger than her impression suggested. Certainly large enough to host a hoard of impressive size. And, more importantly, wouldn’t have many invaders, being locked away by inconvenient terrain. Though not perfectly safe, either. Other fliers, to name one vector who wouldn’t have much problem crossing the lake.

[Defenses,] Sable said. [You said it’s normal for a dragon to have a defending army?]

Aylin took a second longer to recover, then shakily climbed to her feet. Despite her disorientation at having been carried such a great distance—and from such a great height—she only seemed vaguely nauseous, not distressed. For that matter, she was taking Sable’s abduction in general surprisingly in stride.

“Um. Yeah. Maybe not an army. More like guardians. At least, that’s what the stories say.”

[The stories?]

“Because that’s all we have, right?”

[It is?] There was something revealing in the statement, though Sable couldn’t place exactly what.

Aylin seemed suddenly awkward. “Because dragons have been extinct. For centuries.”

They were?

“The human kingdoms hunted them,” she continued, becoming even more awkward, presumably because of Sable’s surprise. “Because … uh … dragons weren’t …”

Sable waited.

“The friendliest sort,” she finished. “They brought carnage and death. Ravaged landscapes and enslaved populations. All they cared about was growing their hoard and through that, their power. So they were hunted. Malefyr the Eldest was supposed to be the last of them, and he was killed centuries ago.” She shrugged. “That’s how the stories go. We thought they were gone. Forever. Clearly, not all, because how else how would you be here?”

Sable sat there, stunned. Extinct?

And, their reputation. She had already guessed dragons weren’t the most hospitable sort based on how her skills worked—that mountains of gold and being feared was how she grew in strength—but still, hunted to extinction?

Then how had she been born? Who were her parents? Did she have any?

Though that was the least odd part of her circumstances, wasn’t it? The whole, ‘transmigrated through worlds’ part was much more bizarre. Stacked up against that, her sudden fantastical birth into an extinct species was a footnote.

[I see,] Sable said.

She took a second to collect her thoughts.

[Regardless. Defenses. It’s normal for a dragon to collect a defending force.]

“Sure.”

[Then I’ll need to find servants. More appropriate ones.]

Oddly, Aylin bristled at that. “I’m more than capable in a fight, thank you very much.”

It was the first flash of impudence from the woman that Sable had seen. Touchy about her skills in combat, was she? More than offended at the disrespectful tone, Sable was amused.

Aylin, on the other hand, wasn’t. She paled as she realized what she’d said, and especially the tone she’d said it in.

“Not that I would question your perspective, Great One,” she said, stumbling over her words. “Just— I’m not— I’ve trained since I was a kid to fight. I might be small, but I’m good in a fight.” Despite her attempted contrition, she said the last part firmly, just as stubbornly as she had before.

She tried to keep the amusement out of her voice. [Regardless, I don’t intend to keep you in my thrall for long.]

Aylin grimaced. “You don’t?”

Huh?

Grimaced?

That hadn’t been the reaction Sable expected. She’d thought she’d crossed about a hundred ethical boundaries by [Dominating] Aylin, even temporarily, and with a plan to release her after Sable had the information she needed. But Aylin almost sounded disappointed that Sable didn’t intend to keep her.

[I simply needed information,] Sable said, trying to keep the confusion out of her voice. She had an act to put on—one which was only half false—because reputation mattered with the class she’d been given. Her species in general, perhaps.

But really. Why did Aylin sound upset she would be released?

Fortunately, the goblin woman answered the unstated question.

“This is my path to earning a class.” The words were spoken enthusiastically, as if trying to convince Sable. “A random member of a goblin war band? Maybe it’s possible … we have a few … but a member of a dragon’s thrall? The first dragon in centuries?” A stubborn determination crossed her face. “Keep me. I’ll prove my worth. I promise.”

Sable studied the woman. She hadn’t expected to find an actual follower from the first person she plied for information, but the enthusiasm Aylin spoke with was convincing. She might have a diminutive frame, and goblins probably weren’t the most powerful species to enlist, but Sable could hear the fire behind her words. Aylin was determined to prove herself. That made up for a lot, she would think.

As for what Sable had learned. ‘Get a class’? Not everyone received one, then. And it was tied to prestige? Being a no-name warrior meant Aylin was less likely to get one?

Then again, it could all be superstition. She needed to be careful what she took for fact. Though, superstitions arose from trends. Maybe members of Sable’s thrall were more likely to earn classes, which apparently meant unlocking varied forms of coveted power.

[We’ll see,] Sable said. [I’m undecided, as of yet.]

It was a truthful placation. She only had five slots to fill. If Aylin proved herself worthy, then Sable would keep her. Otherwise, she’d stick to the original plan and release her.

[But I do need … dumber muscle. Servants willing to watch over the hoard day-in and day-out. That, I assume, you aren’t interested in.]

Aylin blushed. On her green cheeks, it was subdued, but still noticeable. “Er … no, Great One. I would want to prove myself. To be out, erm, seeing your will done.”

[So, suggestions.]

“To servants? Uh. What do you mean?”

[Who would serve well.]

Aylin seemed briefly perplexed, then shook her head. “Right. You’ve just been born. You don’t know much.” She paused, and Sable could read what she was thinking: whether what she had said could be construed as disrespectful. Aylin hastily reassured her: “Not in a bad way. Just, fresh slate and everything, has to be disorienting.” She coughed. “Servants. Uh. How does it work? Anything lower level than you?”

That was a good point. How did it work? The skill just said ‘dominate a lesser creature’s will’, but Sable didn’t know if she should trust that. Her [Hoard] and [Notoriety] stats made it clear the messages sent to her couldn’t be relied on, not completely.

[I’m not sure,] Sable said. Then, helpfully, she added: [But you were trivial to break.]

She hadn’t meant it to be insulting, but she realized quickly, obviously it was. The words left her mouth—erm, brain?—before she thought better of them.

At least it fit with her persona? Her ‘character’.

Aylin bristled, but the offense passed quickly. Maybe because it was accurate. Aylin had withered under Sable’s mental assault. Whether that said something about her willpower, or some trait of the game-like system they lived under, Sable couldn’t know. If she had to guess, the latter. Aylin didn’t seem like a woman without willpower. And while Sable wouldn’t call herself a lazy, aimless girl, she wouldn’t call herself some paragon of relentless drive, either. Aylin’s mind had crumpled under Sable’s because of the system, not a battle of mismatched wills.

“Well,” Aylin said. “Raw muscle. I’d figure they’d have to be something weaker than you, and also in the same general level range. So one to five.” She scratched her cheek. “Ain’t much that’s level five or lower that’s gonna be a super useful guard. Maybe … a golem? A smaller one.”

[Golem?]

“Big things made of rock. Apparently they haunt the Ruins, a few hours hike from the clan.” She paused. “So, er, not much of a flight, then. A quarter hour or so, with how fast we were going.” She seemed vaguely nauseous at remembering their trip.

[A golem, then. It will do.] Sable considered her next line of inquiry. [Before a guard matters, though, I need a hoard. Something to protect in the first place.]

“Something to pillage.” A grimace crossed Aylin’s face, something that indicated she had remembered who, or what, she was speaking to. It morphed quickly to panic. “Uh. Can I ask that it’s not the clan?” She winced at the request.

[Not pillage,] Sable said dismissively. [Not in my current state, without a hoard.] Aylin had already implied she knew how dragon’s hoards and power were tied. So, penniless, she knew Sable wasn’t at full strength.

Aylin was only half reassured by her dismissal. To be fair, from what Sable had said, she hadn’t ruled out ‘down-the-line’ pillaging of her hometown.

And obviously Sable wouldn’t do that, or any village for that matter, but again, [Notoriety]. She needed to encourage a certain reputation. And disposition. Couldn’t go reassuring her outright, could she?

[So, an alternative,] Sable prompted. [Something smaller. Where can I find—or earn—the beginnings of a hoard?]