Plans didn’t go quite as expected. Dragon could only sigh as he stepped out of his cave. Fortunately, his other wards were much more refined…at least until his guttural beasts returned to camp.

Even more fortunately yet, those guttural beasts were head and shoulders more refined than Domagon. After an…unfortunate incident…he’d been forced to castrate his ‘son’. Regrettable, but it those things happen. Even more regrettable was the damage Domagon did to the rework meat suit. It took quite a while to stitch all that damage up.

Recently, he’d traded services with an extremely reasonable bogavart, a decision that left him with no regrets. Yes, Endell was a truly honorable creature, much like himself. Despite disagreeing on the fundamentals, both saw value in the other’s work. Dragon had his stitched beasts while Endell crafted living plants, and Dragon’s primitive beast camp was all the better for the trade.

Now, instead of mud tents and dugouts, living two-storied huts grew from the ground, their walls breathing with life. His silent beasts shuffled in and out of their new abodes, tapping their palms in contented conversation.

His silent beasts were much less inclined to leave the roost compared to his guttural beasts, but Dragon knew that if he raised them right, one day they’d be sure to break out on their own. In fact, the silent beasts were very matronly, tending to the camp while their guttural counterparts hunted in the wilds.

Yes, Dragon was very pleased with his new camp of plants, so useful for collecting wealth.

Even the pale yellow-green walls were pleasant to look at. Their colors, a stark contrast to the dead flat desert that was his territory. Dragon owned plenty of land, that was for sure. He’d gotten such a good deal on this territory mostly because no one else recognized its value, but Dragon prized his discerning eyes. They were his gift, his greatest strength.

Most couldn’t even recognize the value in such a gift, but Dragon knew power didn’t come from strength. It came from knowledge. And the value of knowledge was often overlooked.

To all the other bogavarts, those local territory barons, who’d overlooked this desert, all they saw were endless, dusty red plains. Its soil so hard it might as well be rock, completely unsuitable for crops. Dragon chuckled. If only they could witness his camp of plants thrive.

All one needed to do was smash through that crusty shell of soil and an endless sea of soft mud would appear. He didn’t own a desert. He owned a secret mud pit, a trove hiding underneath a hard shell they'd all overlooked.

The rains never fell here, but they didn’t need to. Dragon had a limitless supply of water buried below. Break through the inconspicuous shell, and the real treasure revealed itself.

In addition, if one could fly, they might notice the plains weren’t as endless as they appeared. Instead, his seemingly flat desert was built from plateaus so grand, the entire desert was essentially a series of stair-stepping plateaus. Having dug his personal dwelling into the cliff-side of one of them, Dragon could even appreciate the value of the plateus.

Yes, his quiet camp of plants sat atop a trove of treasure. Matronly beasts scurrying around, going about their chores…Ahh! What a wonderful territory. At least until the noisy ones return.

If only all dealings could be this easy. Dragon, having cleared his head, turned around and sauntered back into his cliffside dwelling. He’d given up searching for Oenus, the brat having run off somewhere in Dragon’s network of caves as soon as he arrived. No matter, Oenus couldn’t go far, and Dragon was too busy with the payment for Endell to search for him anyway.

However, loathed as Dragon was to admit it, Oenus’s neglect wasn’t what bothered him. What really bothered him was the little bastard had run off with the meat suit, insisting on doing things himself. Of course, it didn’t matter who fitted it as long as the job got done.

However…

Dragon really wanted to rescue the princess himself.

At least Dragon had the foresight to castrate Domagon before the princess arrived. That creature certainly couldn’t be trusted with its own toys, it was much too strong. Dragon did his best to explain responsible use to Domagon, using his recently acquired knowledge of marriage and proper procedure as a guide and explaining how he was only doing this for Domagon’s own good. He was fairly certain that dimwitted creature understood.

Probably.

****************************************

Oenus’s new body wasn’t anything special, standard bunsack issue. That was okay. Much like his old god bod, that beaut he had to leave for Mister Jenkens to eat, he’d long since decided his body didn’t belong to him anymore.

Every morsel of it belonged to his new savior, and he’d be damned if that Dragon was going to take Eta. His savior belonged to him.

He would have even given her every morsel of his god bod if he wasn’t forced to leave some for Mister Jenkens. That body had power, loads of it, and all that power would give Eta an even bigger jumpstart on her path to godhood.

Fortunately, because of that power, it'd take Mister Jenkens extra long to gobble it all up.  Time Oenus would use to guide Eta down the correct path.

Gobble, gobble.

Standard bunsack issue was weak, that or Dragon made Eta really fat. Except, her new body was too skinny to be fat…or was it?

‘Scrub-bucket the Chubby-trucker’

‘That’s all you’re good for. And barely at that.’

‘She’s heavy.’

‘You’re weak.’

Down, down, down, the twisty caves he went, dragging Eta’s new body by the arm. He didn’t want to treat his savior like that. He would have loved to see the look on Dragon’s face after scooping Eta into his arms and carrying her off like a princess.

But all he could manage was dragging her vacant meat suit by the arm like a sad doll.

She wasn’t here yet, so maybe she wouldn’t notice all the scuffs and bruises?

‘You think you’re capable of bruising that!?’

‘I can dream.’

‘I am your dream. And I say no way, Paco.’

He agreed with himself. Eta’s new body was too tough.

Only an idiot like Dragon could be so right about princesses, yet so far off. Well, it was too late for more rework, now. The die had been cast.

Good thing Eta asked to ‘cancel the big’. That first monster meat suit Dragon made was something else. What was its name again? Oh! Domadinggone, that was right.

Yeah, Domadinggone, that thing was a monster. It didn’t even look close to what a person should look like, its body pitch black as the abyss, bristly hair sticking out of bulging muscles. Why include the hairs? There was no point to them. They didn’t look anything like the arm hair Oenus described over the phone.

Worse yet was Dragon’s wasted attempt at a face. Contrasted against Domadinggone’s abyss black body was an eggshell colored face that looked exactly like a skin mask. Despite the scary body, the face was kinda cute, its button nose and round ears that stuck out too far. He’d even given it bright red lips that always smiled. Such a cute face…wasted.

For as wrong as Dragon got Domadinggone, Oenus counted his bless yous for Dragon getting Eta mostly right. Also mostly wrong.

Dragon, having realized his bristly blunder, didn’t give Eta’s body any hair other than what was on her head. It should have made her skin look really smooth.

Should have.

See, the lack of bristles only highlighted how leathery her actually skin was. Even the color was off, that same soft eggshell color as Domadinggone’s mask face.

At a glance, she appeared human, might even pass as a standard bunsack, but looking too long gave a really unsettling feeling. Like something was wrong, but the brain couldn’t quite figure out what. Her near resemblance to a bunsack might even be even more disturbing than simply making her a full-blown monster. As she was, she was simply a monster masked by a human suit.

The tail certainly didn’t help.

At least she had a pretty face. Apparently, Dragon thought princesses needed insidiously black hair. It matched her bright, murderous eyes. Got to count those bless yous where a guy can.

At any rate, it was time for Oenus to get to work.

He wasn’t looking forward to bringing Eta here, not because he didn’t want her to join the starting realm, but because of what he need to give up to guide her here. There was power in the flesh; all power came from the flesh, but his new bunsack body didn’t have much of it.  

He'd need to sacrifice a lot of flesh to earn the kind of power he'd need for this job.

Still, it was better than letting Dragon take care of it. He’d be dammed if he was going to give Eta to Dragon. She was his, his savior, not Dragon’s.  Dragon was too attached to her as it was.  Oenus lamented his mistake of telling Dragon about princesses.  If he didn't put his foot down now and set some boundaries, Dragon was likely to snatch her away, and then all Oenus's plans would be ruined.

Dragon's cliffside dwelling was a sprawling network of caves lit by some kind of glowy vine, and Oenus found a nicely lit cavern at the end of the long stretch of cave.  He dragged Eta’s new meat suit inside and leaned her against the wall. She was almost here, and he was determined to be the one to bring her.

Now, wonder what happened to my handsaw?