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Updated to Ch.4
Ch. 1
The Case of Royal Slime 1
In the city of Zeele, there were two dragon shops, commonly referred to as the Northern Dragon Shop and the Southern Dragon Shop, according to their respective locations.
Though, in reality, the Northern Dragon Shop was named "Habel," while the Southern Dragon Shop was named "Eshan."
In the past, these two dragon shops had competed with each other for years, but recently, Old-geezer Cythene Eshan mysteriously disappeared. He vanished without a trace, and it wasn't just a metaphorical disappearance; Old Geezer literally disappeared.
One night, he went to sleep on a bed, and when morning came, there was no one on the bed. People from all around the city were baffled, and rumors spread like wildfire. There were various speculations, from ordinary issues like having a dispute with a wizard somewhere and getting sent on a one-way trip to the Land of Twilight with long, complicated details about it.
In reality, Old-geezer Cythene Eshan's lineage had a twist: his father was a regular human, but his mother was a Ruzelka, or water spirit. Because of this, there was a prohibition that he should never go near the lake. People claimed to have seen him trotting close to the secluded water puddle just once. After that, a cold, green hand emerged and dragged him into the puddle, making him disappear forever.
However, when asked whether he disappeared while sleeping or not, the storytellers quickly changed the topic.
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Regardless, when Cythene Eshan disappeared, all the troubles fell upon Jevan Yorah, who was the one helping manage the shop. At first, the middle-aged man wasn't sure what to do and didn't even know if Cythene had any relatives to inherit the shop. But after a few days of confusion, the Sage brought a young man to the shop.
The Sage explained that Cythene Eshan had left a legacy long ago, seemingly with a curse engraved on it. And on that day, he disappeared. The cursed scroll was now laid on the graduate's table over his yet-to-be-finished book, refusing to move or budge from where it was.
The Sage had no choice but to follow the instructions of the tyranny-cursed scroll, which involved finding the heir of Cythene and bringing them to the shop using threats and various persuasions.
"But..." the young man beside Sage spoke up.
Sage turned to him and scowled fiercely, warning him that if the young man didn't behave properly, there would be no way to remove that damn cursed scroll from his table, the Language Institute's impending destruction would become nigh, and dire consequences would befall a young man for taking responsibility.
While Sage was describing the impending dissolution of the Language Institute and why it couldn't be avoided, Jevan interrupted.
"Are you a descendant of Master Cythene Eshan?" The young man turned toward him, relieved to have some assistance.
"My name is Zolto Eshan, sire," he said. "I think my father was related to Uncle Cythene."
Zolto was an unassuming young man with sandy brown hair that resembled sand or rice grains. Jevan thought that if people saw a lad like this in town, they would likely forget his face in three minutes.
"I've checked with government officials, and there’s no mistake," Sage reassured.
"But, sire," Zolto protested.
Sage fixed him with a stern look, silencing him again.
"Jevan, I'm leaving this burden to you," he said, turning his back and passing the problem to the middle-aged man. "I'll return to my work."
Jevan and Zolto watched Sage as he left swiftly on horseback, and after a moment, they turned to face each other.
"I'm Jevan Yorah," the older man decided to introduce himself. "I'm your uncle's employee."
Jevan was a serious man, efficient, and skilled in his work. He never disclosed his true age to anyone, but people guessed he must be in his forties. He had dark brown hair and one missing tooth.
He appeared in Zeele about ten years ago, as a vagrant seeking employment, and had been working for Cythene Eshan since then.
In his early days, when he was younger, there were various rumors circling around the town about the mysterious past of Jevan Yorah, but after a decade with nothing unusual occurring, Jevan had become just an ordinary old man, someone who didn't arouse any suspicion, and sometimes he had the task of listening to aunties about the rumors of newcomers.
"Young Master, come inside," Jevan gestured with his hand. Seeing Zolto's puzzled expression, he repeated, "Now, young master."
"Erm, please call me Zolto, sire," the young man said. "And I'm... not a young master."
"This is a dragon shop," Jevan decided to explain without extending the conversation further. In reality, though, he wasn't entirely sure what he should talk about. "It's a somewhat unique business, but I understand you may have seen something similar before."
Zolto nodded obediently in agreement. The dragon shop wasn't like a regular grocery shop found in most towns, nor was it a place frequented by the general public. However, it wasn't as exotic as the deep and mysterious wizard shops, nor did it appear as grand as various professional guilds.
"In simple terms..." the middle-aged man paused. "We handle good deliveries—or sometimes people—from one point to another. But it's not like hiring a carriage between towns, where you have to embark at one point, disembark at another, and repeat those actions. Dragon transportation has the advantage of fast speed—incredibly fast, to the point of being unbelievable. Therefore, people who come to us are those who require speed."
Jevan leads Zolto into the shop and guides him inside.
The shop was a three-story wooden building located a reasonable distance from the town itself. The ground floor of the building was open as a shop, with a partition separating the customer area from the working area inside. At the back of the working area, there was a door leading to a small backyard that separated the wooden building from a large stone structure.
"That's the dragon stable," the middle-aged man said. "We're not a large shop like one in the city, so we only have three dragons. But that's enough to serve the customers who hire us."
As they entered the dragon stable, the pungent smell of sulfur assaulted Zolto's nose, causing him to pause. Inside the stable, it was rather dark, and the sounds of heavy breathing from the large creatures filled the air.
Jevan lit a torch by the door, and then Zolto could see the three figures inside.
"That's Ruff." The middle-aged man pointed toward a green dragon that raised its head to look.
Ruff was a small dragon, larger than a horse but not by much. It had green scales with a hint of gold, large, round yellow eyes, and a curious demeanor. However, when called, it tilted its head inquisitively, and Zolto felt it resembled a confused tree lizard.
"Among our dragons, Ruff is the fastest, but he can't carry much weight, so it's often used for delivering urgent letters," Jevan explained. "But Ruff is mischievous and stubborn. In fact, even I can't ride him... Only Master Cythene himself could handle him... As for the dragon I employ regularly,
He walked toward another dragon. This one was once bigger than Ruff and had silver scales with gentle, light blue eyes. Its wings on the back were soft, silvery wings, not black like the typical dragon. It was a water dragon, a rare breed known for its high price.
"This one is Morah. Beautiful Morah," Jevan called out to her affectionately. "Morah is a very good-natured dragon, not stubborn at all. However, we need to love her plenty. The beautiful girl here has quite the appetite for an amber."
"Amber..." The young man muttered.
"Maybe it’s a bit frugal," Jevan said, patting his favorite dragon's back. "But only occasionally, sir, because you're a good girl, right? Morah."
"And... inside there..." Zolto’s look points towards the innermost part of the building, where there is a sleeping red giant.
"Oh, that's Old Hekkeh," Jevan chuckled. "He's old, but he still kicks hard when the times come. If we have to carry a lot of stuff or heavy ones, we rely on him."
Then, Ruff stood up on two legs and grabbed something in his mouth, then walked over and handed it to Zolto from the side. At first, the young man didn't realize it because he was too busy looking at Old Hekkeh, but when he was nudged, he was startled and took several steps back.
"W... What's this?" Zolto looked at something golden that Ruff dropped at his feet.
"That's Ruff's toy," Jevan said. "It's just a gold-plated steel bar, sir. We don't have real gold here."
"A gold-plated steel bar." Zolto looked at Ruff, tilting his head uncertainly.
"Dragons like gold..." Jevan took his hand away from Morah, starting to feel strange. "Young Master, you don't know about this, do you?"
"I... I don't know about dragons, sire." Zolto retreated a step as Ruff approached him again. "I mean, sometimes I've seen them flying by, but I never thought they had anything to do with me."
The middle-aged man's expression changed immediately. He walked closer and took the gold-plated steel bar from Ruff, then threw it inside the building. Ruff instantly ran after it happily.
"May I ask, Young Master?" Jevan spoke to Zolto, whose gaze was fixed on Raff. "What kind of work did you do before?"
"I..." the young man scratched his head. "I worked on the farm, sire."
The atmosphere suddenly became peculiar, enveloping the dragon stable.
"Well, sire, I’m not the owner of anything like a farm," Zolto tried to explain. "The owner is my oldest uncle."
"You don’t know about dragons at all?" the other party asked bluntly, cutting him off.
"No, I don't know about dragons, but... if it's about Jami," the young man's eyes lit up. "I know a lot about Jami, sire."
Jami is a plow-pulling creature used for plowing fields.
"But..." The middle-aged man tried to find the right words: "You must know, Young Master, that people who work at the dragon shop have to ride dragons."
Seeing the instant look of horror in the young man when he heard the last sentence, Jevan was no longer sure how his old boss had chosen his successor.
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That evening, Zolto Eshan found himself alone in the shop. The missing-tooth man named Jevan told him it was his time to go back home. Afterward, he led Zolto up to Uncle Cythene’s bedroom and told him to stay there from now on. Food was available in the kitchen on the other side. Tomorrow, they could discuss business.
Zolto placed all his belongings on the floor and then settled onto the bed. Uncle Cythene’s bed was a four-poster with a canopy, quite different from the blankets he used as a bed back home.
Zolto had never dreamed of sleeping in a four-poster bed before. Sometimes he wondered what it would be like, but now the young man felt no excitement. He looked up at the dragon-carved ceiling of the canopy and felt as if he had been haunted by them in some strange way.
He hadn't intended to come here, and frankly, Zolto had no intention of leaving his Jami, even for a short while. After all, there would be no one to care for them as he did. While he might not possess Jami as his property, he has been responsible for them since he was five. No one understood and cared for Jami as much as Zolto.
It was only now that he couldn't imagine whether those at home would look after it properly.
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Zolto's family was a large one, led by his eldest uncle. The families of his uncles and aunts, as well as his father's, all lived in the same area and worked on the same land.
According to the land laws, the land belonged to the eldest uncle, along with all the other properties. The inheritance of the land went to the eldest son of the uncle, which meant that there were responsibilities to take care of the relatives.
However, even among them, some children did not "follow the line" of the family. In Zolto's family, some had ventured out to work elsewhere. Some had even gone to the city to study further, work in government offices, or start their businesses.
However, Zolto was not one of those people. He was a simple and not very bright child. After he learned to read and write, he stopped his education altogether.
It was during that time that Zolto began taking care of the family's Jami in earnest. In less than a year, he promoted himself to the caretaker of all Jami, looking after the family’s entire herd, taking care of them, and fattening them up. People in the neighborhood said that there was no better caretaker for Jami than Eshan's house.
The eldest uncle was pleased with Zolto's abilities, and others in the same neighborhood also appreciated the young man.
Therefore, it was assumed that Zolto would lead a simple and uncomplicated life, just like his appearance. He would take care of Jami until he grew old and perhaps even died amid the Jami herd. At least, that would be the case if the Sage did not suddenly show up.
When the Sage came to inform the eldest uncle about the inheritance, Zolto was very confused. He had never heard of anyone named Cythene and did not understand why the dragon shop, of all places, ended up with him.
His relatives struggled to figure out which branch of the family Cythene was from, but even after figuring that out, Zolto still had no interest in inheriting it, and nobody wanted him to go, except for his older sister.
Zolto's parents passed away a long time ago, and now he lives with his older sister in a separate house.
She is a hardworking woman and is engaged to a man from a nearby family, and soon they will marry her into their family. Zolto thought, at that time, that his sister was really happy after learning that he would inherit the whole dragon shop, thanks to Cythene.
"You're a man," his older sister said sternly. "You need to stand on your own two feet and not rely on our uncle forever. Do you understand? Even if you're not very bright, you can work, study, or at least start your own business with the capital you'll get from this opportunity. Don't just keep raising Jami. A man needs to establish his foundation. Otherwise, you won't get married or have children."
"But I don't want to get married, and I don't want to have children!" the young man protested.
Then, his sister both consoled and threatened him. After acting this way for a long time, she finally resorted to shedding a few tears. Zolto had never known whether she was genuinely upset or pretending, but in any case, this always worked with him.
"Fine, I'll go to the city," he reluctantly agreed. "I'll go see the shop first. If it's manageable, I'll accept it. But if it's too much, I'll come back. Is that okay?"
"Why would you come back?" his sister asked, raising eyebrows.
"You know I'm not clever. If I ruin Uncle's shop, what will I do? I'll only do what I can handle. If not, I might sell it, or someone else can take care of the dragons."
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Zolto, in the present time, sighed. He never really understood how the dragon shop worked, let alone how to run it. He also can't comprehend the ways of trading and such. Until today, he had never gotten closer than thirty paces to a dragon. One reason was that there was no necessity, and another was...
"Dragon has no fur, and does it matter?" The young man almost heard his sister's voice again.
Yes, it matters. Zolto couldn't tolerate any animal without fur, and he believed there was nothing good about them. Furless creatures were just a nuisance—a list of creatures that could be named endlessly, from insects to reptiles to worms and frogs.
"Jami maniac," the young man heard his sister's voice of mourning again.
The missing-tooth man... Jevan had said he had to ride a dragon. Just the thought made Zolto miserable.
The young man pulled a blanket over himself. Tomorrow, he would tell Jevan that he couldn't do it and would offer Jevan to take care of the shop instead.
Farming...farming...that word sounded like a heavenly voice in Zolto's mind. He believed he had found the right answer for his future, so he drifted off to sleep.
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Zolto was flinching once more when it was almost dawn. He heard some unusual sounds coming from below, and it woke him up. Normally, the young man was a quick riser, but now he hadn't seen the sky fully brighten yet, and Jevan still hadn't come to the shop. So he put on a cloak and went to see what happened.
As soon as he opened the shop door, the young man stood still in bewilderment. He was confident that when he came with the Sage yesterday, the road in front of the shop was smooth, without any holes. However, under the soft morning sunlight that hadn't fully emerged yet, Zolto could see a............ disaster.
Right in front of the shop, there was a deep, wide trench, as if someone had deliberately dug a waterway, creating ruts on the ground. It looked like a dried-up riverbed.
Zolto blinked as he examined the strange trench. He wasn't sure where it began, but it was evident that it ended at the tree on the opposite side of the shop. At the very end of that trench was a peculiar hole, which was probably quite deep. It seemed to have eaten part of the tree's roots and appeared to stop right there.
Surrounding that hole were several people dressed like soldiers, and initially, when Zolto stepped out of the shop, no one paid him any attention. However, it didn't take long for one of them to turn around and notice him.
"You!" the soldier shouted and then cleared his throat. His voice sounded strange, almost like someone who found the needle in the sea. But after uttering "you," he seemed to run out of words and hesitate. Eventually, he took a few long strides across the road to where the young man was standing. The others followed suit.
"You... I'm the town's guard. Uh, this is the dragon shop?" The soldier announced it uncertainly.
Zolto didn't know how to respond to such a strange statement. He just blinked in confusion.
"You do deliver everything, right?" the soldier continued.
"I... don't know, sire," Zolto replied with more uncertainty.
"You have to deliver everything. This is the custom of the dragon shop," the soldier continued speaking hesitantly. "I'd like to hire you—no, by the Lord Mayor's will. I'd like to hire you to move... back to the palace."
The young man stood still for a moment.
"Move…? Move what, sire?" He stammered, approaching the soldier cautiously.
"Move..." the soldier mumbled to himself. However, when he saw that Zolto still didn't understand, he turned to his comrades, who had followed. "What was the name of that Royal Slime again?”
"I guess... It's a 'Glueyrine', right, sir?" Another soldier mumbled.
“Whatever.” The soldier seemed fed up after he got an answer. "We need to move it back to the palace. If you can, there’s a reward; if you can’t, consider your head gone."
With that, the soldier hit one of the shop's pillars with a fist as a form of intimidation.
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