In a quiet and discreet location, the kind that is non-disclosed and where telling you more would see you accidentally fall out of a very high window, one of my eggs sat there, ready to hatch. I was all alone with the egg. Well, naturally, Skull was with me, so we were alone. In truth, Nanu was there just in case I needed anything, so I was all alone with Skull as my bodyguard and Nanu to assist. Also, Chooka was there, so it was just me, Skull, Nanu, and my favorite lover, Chooka.

"Sorry we're late, Boss!", came the unexpected and unanticipated announcement from Bambina and Gambino in tandem as they invited themselves into this secret room.

Okay then. So, this very private affair had a few more people in attendance than I had wanted, but I was not so callous as to dismiss those who have been kind, loyal, and dear to me, so I tolerated the assembly. A short time later, Torborg walked in, but he had a keg of some rather fine and expensive liquor on his shoulder, so I gave him a pass. Then a sheepish It-Has-Pockets walked and proceeded to shamelessly worm her way to the back of the crowd.

I didn't know if I should laugh or be angry, but moments later, a whole gaggle of kobolds, dressed with hardhats, reflective vests, and other safety equipment, barged into the room, some of whom wielded heavy construction equipment. With a loud and continuous beeping sound, two of them backed in a rickshaw full of construction materials, and the whole ensemble passed through the room to the other door on the other side and exited without apology or further fanfare or any degree of explanation. I leveled a stern glance at Gambino, but his face betrayed no semblance of complicity with what had transpired, so it must have been Alterez who arranged it. I say that because the little scamp rolled off the bottom of the rickshaw and inserted himself into the crowd.

A few minutes later, the heavy footsteps of Nabonidus alerted everyone in the room that our one and only ogre would be joining us. In his hand, he held the collar of Bellwright's jacket, and I know it belongs to the gnome in question because said gnome was currently wearing it and grumpily shouting colorful remarks at his bearer. No sooner had Nabonidus come to a stop at the back of the crowd than the egg started hatching. Leave it to an [Oracle] to arrive precisely when he means to.

Before it cracked, a few Jericho clones entered the room, the whole lot of them securing the doors on the inside and the outside. That just left the triumvirate of Blythnin, Serideth, and Relarina unaccounted for. I started to find it odd that everyone else would show up but them, and then I remembered that they are probably here somewhere.

I have come to learn that their new Blessing gives them the means to be supernaturally sneaky in the sense that people just don't recognize that they are even there, me included. Considering that dragons have extraordinary mental defenses, it must be some unique and powerful mechanic of an Ability that allows for them to walk about unnoticed. Now that I remembered that detail, I actively looked for them, and that did the trick, as I very quickly noticed them lurking in the corner. Their body flickered as it changed from one person to another fronting for them collectively. It eventually stabilized to Serideth, but that could change at any moment for any reason.

As the egg continued to hatch, I reflected over operational security. I told no one what was happening or where the egg was hidden. I just literally swept Chooka off her feet when the time was right, and Nanu somehow knew to seek me out and followed. I supposed Nabonidus could have arranged circumstances to corral everyone else here, but I suspect some sort of karmic bond between myself and my companions holds the answer.

The egg, being more leathery than hard like those of birds, ripped open at the top as a feminine figure burst from it to stand upright. Quite literally, Iresdora was born with a clipboard in hand, and it gave off the tell-tale otherworldliness that confirmed that it manifested from one of her Abilities. Iresdora, like her siblings, was born fully formed, and that would most likely give her a personality with eccentric flairs and a few questionable idiosyncrasies. Such is the price of creating my offspring as adults.

Iresdora, like all of my children thus far, is also a Dragon Consort. As a refresher, that means she tends to spend a great deal of time in mortal form without being uncomfortable by it, and her Blessing will give her a broader range of powers at the cost of sheer power. Iresdora was never meant for combat, but a Princess should still be more than a match for most opponents just by the basic prowess of magic and martial aptitude that comes with being an apex being. All that being said, she should develop a rather broad background of skills and expertise that will allow her to properly audit any industry or agency with a fair degree of insider knowledge and wisdom.

Now, while Kaisadoro rarely ventures out of being a human male, and Tamadora prefers to be human or remnimi, Iresdora came into the world with the body of a female troll. I probably should have expected that, for while trolls can be passively elitist, they usually have the competency to back up such an attitude. The subtle and primal savagery of a troll's appearance will display that she is not to be trifled with, and her elegant and surreal beauty will passively seduce people into being more open with her. Overall, I approve of it, as the nod of my head and the beaming smile of my face announce.

Dragons tend to have no shame concerning nudity, as dragons in their draconic form are naturally nude. All present appreciate beauty in one form or another, and Iresdora, being exceptionally beautiful, offered a feast for the eyes. While I heard no grumbles of complaint, my many senses detected a negative change in attitude from most gathered when I offered Iresdora some basic clothes from pocket dimension.

"I'm taking this as evidence of my birth," came her first words as she scooped up the remnants of her egg and deposited it in the pocket dimension as provided by a ring I gave her.

Time and countless individuals would come to hear of her "taking this as evidence", for her [Hoard] is one of quantity that needs to align with her investigations. While I don't agree with civil asset forfeiture, I can let it slide if she is taking it from those who have betrayed the trust of my flight and the public as a whole.

"With that minor detail out of the way, I offer my greetings to you, Father, and your associates," she greeted with a slight bow of perfunctory formality before straightening once more. Grabbing me by the arm and tugging me along, she continued, "Now, I simply must know the laws of the land if I am to ensure that your officials are following them. I imagine graft is straight out, as are other forms of dishonest behavior associated with kleptocracy. Furthermore, I suggest we-"

Most would know Iresdora to be a woman of few words, one who is stern and imposing. They would see her as a woman who is all business and who takes no shit from anyone, who both cares little for formality and yet selectively observes protocols to the letter. I would come to know her as an absolute yapper who has a great number of specific interests that she could talk about for hours on end.

I know parents are not supposed to have favorites, but if I did, it would be Iresdora. That may or may not be related to how she eagerly accompanies me to hunt down a new kind of snail for my collection, or really, anything that could be collected. For you see, she also enjoys collecting things, typically from the estates of wealthy individuals that got caught with their grubby little hands in the proverbial cookie jar. From time to time, I would create an environment where a powerful figure of questionable scruples could believe that he or she could get away with taking some off the top, partially to test their loyalty, but more to give her another good case and an opportunity for father-daughter time as we loot- er- "take evidence" from one estate or another.

For that is what good fathers do; they spend time with their children and make memories together, one sting operation at a time.

"Are ye sure, lassie? That's quite the big sword for ye. And the name? I cannae say I have seen the likes of that ordered before."

"Quite certain, Master Stoneshield. I am making an informed decision, I have fully assessed my available options, and I am making this decision of my own free will."

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

The [Master Blacksmith] in question, the ambition of any young dwarf bouncing on a parent's knee when told tales of future professions, just shrugged and made noises of acceptance and mild complaints about taste under his breath as he complied. Some people may have taken offense to such an attitude, but I don't know that I could respect a blacksmith that was properly polite. I have worked with him and countless others many times, and he does good work, so it would do for my newest daughter's first sword.

I had taken Iresdora to World's Hope for some sightseeing. It also helped to impress upon her the importance of her work, as a smidge of corruption could inhibit the quantity and quality of supplies this fortress receives, and that could cascade to our entire world being doomed. She seems to take my words quite literally as gospel, and she appears to fervently believe that one missed checkbox on a form could bring about the end times.

It was at World's Hope that she met Hopper and Ribbette, both of whom guarded The Boys. She found herself instantly adoring all of them, and, quite notably, she absolutely loved Hopper's ōdachi, so much so that she wanted one of her own. That brought us to the forge and one slightly grumpy dwarf. An hour of examining designs later, and she cobbled together an original design that she drew up with remarkable skill. Turns out, an auditor needs the ability to sketch things, especially when said things are known to exist and yet somehow are not located where they are supposed to be.

Master Stoneshield worked fast, creating a model of the sword in mere minutes out of tin and other softer metals, when normally, that would take hours for a real sword. I am no smith, so I cannot easily make something new. However, give me a template to work with, and I can recreate it exactly, replacing materials with those of my choosing. This is nothing new to him, and so I didn't have to deal with the typical consternation of first-time commissions.

The dwarf administered the finishing touches, using stencils of letters to carefully hammer in the name of the sword all along the blade in every known written language. "Toothpickle" it is called, which caused no end of muffled laughter as Iresdora put a sleeve over her mouth when she told me what she wanted to call it. She certainly has her own sense of humor.

And beyond humor, she has a sense of fashion that may catch on some day, but it certainly caused adults to raise eyebrows and excited edgy teenagers. Essentially, her outfit started as a keikogi, in that it involved pants and a jacket that needed to be secured in some way. For that, she chose a lot of belts, most of which have a number of pouches. Straps from her belt hold up even larger pouches on the outside of her legs, and a few small blades are sheathed here and there, with a prominent row of throwing daggers across her chest. Her hat is akin to the straw hats that would match the outfit, except it is rounded, not conical, and more oval than circular. It also has tassels hanging down from the edge which go low enough to veil her face. The sleeves of her jacket are normally short (they grow and shrink as she wills them), all so one can see her fingerless gloves that go up past her elbow, which collectively leaves about an inch of exposed skin on her upper arms. She also wears a thick choker with spikes on it, as well as practical black riding boots into which she tucks the legs of her pants.

The whole affair is colored primarily black with white as a secondary color. As time would tell, my progeny would all agree that golden yellow is MY color, and none would wear it except as a patch to show affiliation. They seem to agree that black is the color of my flight, the one that all share, and so all of them incorporate it into their outfits in some way. My Princes and their descendants use black as a primary and other colors for secondary and tertiary, whereas my Kings have it the other way around for them and their descendants.

For example, my King might wear primarily red with black as a secondary color. Said King's Prince may wear blue as a primary color, red as a secondary (homage to the parent), and black as a tertiary (homage to the flight). I never gave any orders as such, but you can roughly figure out the lineage of one of my children by their color-coding when they wear official outfits.

However, such matters of fashion and heraldry have not yet come to pass. What was coming to pass was me taking this model of a sword and making a copy of it, albeit, with much better metals than tin and a whole host of enchantments. The blade has a design of a dragon on each side, not the kind of dragon that I am, but the kind that was all the rage a few millennia ago. You know, the one with the stubby limbs, a really long body, no wings, and a bit of a mustache of sorts on the snout. It is a great form to take for magical aptitude, but it lacks in martial prowess, hence its decline in popularity, although you still see a few in some flights.

I first formed the blade with tendrils of different metals, each one acting much like circuitry or a nervous system to allow the effects of the enchantment to flow properly through the blade. Each one was at most as big around as a human hair, and the many thousands of them were fortunately a generalized pattern I had worked out a year or so ago. None of them can be allowed to touch each other, but my precision and control is more than enough to ensure there are no mistakes, as I have made hundreds of weapons by now.

After that part of the blade is finished, it looks like a skeleton of sorts of a sword, if swords had bones. Well, some people make swords out of a bone, but that isn't really the direction we are going here. Anyway, I fill in the inner core with a proprietary alloy of natural and magical metals, one that is soft but durable. The outer layer is the opposite, being much harder but less durable, as is the nature of metals. A few enchantments only serve to bolster the properties of the blade, giving the durability of the core to the entire blade without sacrificing the hardness of the edge. More enchantments keep the blade eternally sharp and give it supernatural heft and sharpness to help it cut through magical defenses. There are countless other practical enhancements, but of course, Iresdora wants runes and the dragons on it to light up with white light and the blade to be surrounded in black flame, so I make it do that as well. There are no fewer than twenty such patterns of how it can light up, and she can control the speed and intensity of it at will, all to help her be a little extra when the time to wield it comes to pass.

In and of itself, it is a damn fine blade, but it is quaint compared to what I would someday be able to do as a demigod. It does serve as a catalyst for her magic, which is not quite as good as having horns, but at that time, she was far too young for horns in her mortal form. It would easily be worth a king's ransom, and not a poor king either. Master Stoneshield leaned my way with his head raised to get a good look as I worked, as he and all the other smiths eagerly crave even a scrap of insight into how to hone their craft. I can tell that he wants such a blade for himself to study, but he still has the good sense to know that asking for that would be foolhardy. Goods of this quality are not for use or sale outside the flight, as this is a blade that could absolutely harm a dragon.

And harm dragons it would in time, if not by its bite, then surely by the seething envy of how they didn't have a weapon nearly as cool as it (or so Iresdora would imagine).

"Ducks," Iresdora said while pointing at a stack of documents, "a row" she continued as she pointed at a neatly organized line of documents on the table we stood before. "All forms are accounted for. The logistics have been worked out, but I assure you, that is not my specialty and you will need more dedicated staff for that. I can however assure you that they have been vetted and they are adhering to their rules and the laws you have commanded."

Chooka hovered right behind me with her head over my shoulder, her eyes eagerly sucking in all the details of the paperwork that Iresdora had made for this occasion. Iresdora had impeccable handwriting, with precision so apt that a machine could not outdo it. It lacked any girlish flair, for it was written for optimal legibility and organized in a way that attracted the eyes to the most pertinent information. It was all arranged in a way that I could easily digest the part of it that I wanted (color-coded in yellow tabs on the left of a document), while the rest of each document had sections for other concerned parties.

Iresdora dove in to a detailed explanation, and her oratory skills, combined with a surprising amount of animation of her person, captivated my attention just right, such that I focused on the information being presented without boredom or distraction, all with the pacing being perfect such that I could absorb it. I could feel through the bond that I share with each companion that Chooka was keenly interested in the style that information was presented, the physical nature of the paperwork, and the structure of how the different parties could quickly find what they needed to do their jobs. Or, put another way, she was excited and incredibly aroused. It would take little imagination to know that Iresdora would get a "one-on-one conversation" with Chooka within five minutes of the briefing ending.

"Excellent work!" I exclaimed as I pulled Iresdora into a warm embrace. She didn't even put up a pretense of resisting, for she lapped up my praise and affection as much as any of my children do. After a moment, I gently pulled her away. "Now, I believe Chooka has matters to discuss with you. I look forward to more reports from you, but for now, I have a military campaign to kick off."

With a gentle push from me, Chooka found Iresdora by her side, and the tall remnimi put an arm around the respectably tall (but still comparatively shorter) daughter of mine and pulled her along as they exited the room. Outside, a dozen or so apprentices my daughter had gathered stood ready, and, if my assumptions are correct, they would need to continue to find a way to busy themselves without my daughter for another hour or so. Chooka can be very thorough in showing her appreciation after unique and intriguing paperwork is involved.

In the meantime, many of my whelps attend me, each one being commandeered by my many minds to write orders and decrees to my many underlings. The last days of the Theocracy of Ulsfarh were being written.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.