March 28, 2026 — 1:31 am

Vainqueur Knightsbane, First of His Name, Great Calamity of the Age, Emperor of Murmurin, Ishfania, and the Albain Mountains, and Protector of all Hoards, had waited so long for this moment.

He hadn’t allowed anything else to distract him; for a whole month, he had waited in his great vault, sitting on his ever-growing hoard. He had counted every single one of these thirty days of patience, meditation, and focus; every hour between him and this golden moment of pure bliss.

As the minutes separating him from his greatest pleasure turned into seconds, the pressure became almost unbearable. The echo of his tense breathing filled the underground vault, as his eyes widened in greed.

Then, it finally happened.

A large pile of gold, as shiny as the sun itself, materialized in front of Vainqueur, perfection made metal.

“YES!” Vainqueur roared out in relief, as he hugged the coin pile tenderly like a father with his child. After a whole month of separation, he couldn’t put a word on the joy he felt. “It is fine, everything is okay, you are safe! I will never let you go again… Never.”

The dragon enjoyed the warm comfort of his wealth returned to him, of his favorite Perk working again. At long last, everything had returned to normal.

He had to brag.

“MINION!” His prized chief of staff materialized at his side, stumbling on his master’s gold with his pants down. He seemed to have been sitting before Vainqueur called him. “Look! My [Stipend] returned! Manling Victor, you…”

Argh, what was that smell coming from his minion?

“Manling Victor, you stink like your kind’s peasants!” Vainqueur complained, his lackey rising and putting back his pants on. His minion had also traded his black cowl for crimson robes and a hood, which meshed better with his wings and tail. “What did I tell you about taking a bath?”

“Your Majesty summoned me while on the toilet, what did you expect?! The smell of roses?”

“Yes, that is true that you manlings suffer from that problem,” Vainqueur said with condescension. “I hoped that your dragon transformation would solve this, but I guess you were better off with a magnificent tail. I suggest that you get rid of your manling half as soon as possible.”

“As if you’re better…” Manling Victor frowned when he realized that, yes, his master was better. “Wait, you’ve never… you’ve never actually… uh.”

“Yes, which is another proof of dragon superiority.”

“But where goes…” Poor Manling Victor couldn’t grasp the perfection of dragon biology, observing his master with his big, confused eyes. “Well, everything?

“Here,” Vainqueur put a hand on his belly. He suddenly realized he had grown fatter due to the lack of exercise. “Nothing is wasted. But, this is unimportant. What is important is that the moth elf has, at long last, well and truly been defeated!”

“Your Majesty killed him a month ago,” Manling Victor replied, unaware of the true significance of the event. “You had Pink write a book about it.”

“Yes, but now the last stain on my honor is gone! The [Stipend] Perk works again!” Vainqueur had worried the Perk had been broken, since no gold appeared after he rightfully regained his [Emperor] Class. The shock had been enough to delay his questing, until he was sure he had fully recovered. “My patience has paid off.”

“Wait, so all this time you shut yourself in your vault, asking not to be bothered except to get food or gold for the hoard, you did nothing but wait for the money to fall on your lap?” Manling Victor put a hand on his face, which he often did for reasons that eluded his master. “Your Majesty has become a true landowner.”

“I have not waited, Manling Victor, I have rested,” Vainqueur replied, adding his new pile of gold to his ever-growing hoard. Destroying Brandon Maure, ending his scheme to destroy his hoard, and organizing the most revolutionary Bragging Day known to dragonkind had exhausted him. “That was a wonderful vacation.”

“Doing nothing for thirty days?”

“Thirty days watching my hoard,” Vainqueur clarified. “Now that my Perk works, all we need is to find you a Crest, so that I may bestow [Noble] levels on you through my [Dynasty] Perk. You will need that sweet [Stipend] if you are to reimburse your debt to me, which is…”

The dragon recalculated the debt, removing the funds his minion had delivered to him the last month. “Twelve million, two hundred twenty-seven thousand, five hundred and twelve gold coins.”

“I’m just glad I managed to scrape three hundred thousand together in one month,” Manling Victor congratulated himself.

“At this rate, it will take you four years to reimburse me, which is too slow,” Vainqueur chastised his minion. “As an adventurer, I earned twelve million coins in much less time. While I do not expect you to surpass me, I want higher reimbursements.”

“Yes, but I’ve also been working full time to keep Your Majesty’s empire stable,” Manling Victor pointed out. “I swear more money will come soon. It will definitely take less than four years… I hope.”

“We shall see,” Vainqueur said. Friend Victor may have been his trusted chief of staff, but his master wouldn’t let him off the hook until he had reimbursed his life debt. “I hope you used my vacation time well, to grow my empire and breed.”

“Yeah, I… I did both. More than I would have liked. It’s exhausting.”

The dragon hummed the air, instantly recognizing a new scent on his lackey. “You smell of dwarves,” Vainqueur frowned in disapproval. “You have not bred with dwarves, have you? They are not minion material.”

“No, we’ve welcomed new ambassadors from the underground realm of Agartha,” Manling Victor replied. “I was actually preparing for a meeting with them before you summoned me.”

“Dwarves are not minion material,” Vainqueur repeated. They were meaty and tasty, but since they always made him drunk when he ate more than three, they made for poor emergency rations.

“I still think Your Majesty should see them,” Manling Victor insisted. “Also, I finally identified the scammers who took credit for your death.”

Vainqueur’s head immediately perked up in interest. “Where?” he asked, gleeful at the idea of settling the score.

“Charlene studied the guild’s archives, and identified them as a disbanded Silver-Ranked adventurer company from the merchant republic of Barin, the ‘Blue Rose Legion.’ They were a classic four-person party specialized in big game, monster-hunting work.”

“Disbanded? They are dead?” Disappointing. Vainqueur would have Jules raise these criminals from the dead as skeletons, so he could kill them properly.

“I’m not sure, the papers said that they separated in Barin twenty years ago, dissolving the group. I think that after claiming the reward for Your Majesty’s head, they earned enough money to retire.” The mere idea infuriated Vainqueur, who had already taken their slander personally. “Thankfully, Charlene found a quest in Barin which could help us investigate. I could even get a Crest out of it.”

Excellent. “Then we leave tomorrow for that quest, Manling Victor.”

“What?” Manling Victor panicked. “Like that?”

“I shall not be denied in my rightful revenge,” Vainqueur replied. “I shall take a tribute of cattle for staining my reputation, and seize the gold they received for my demise. Then we shall return to fulfilling quests and growing my hoard further. Must I remind you that V&V now has competition from my kindred?”

“Oh, I almost forgot, we received a promotion last week.” Manling Victor searched in his pockets, bringing out two bronze plates. “Here.”

“Bronze,” the dragon squinted, unimpressed.

“Bronze.” His minion sounded as annoyed as his master.

“How can it be that I am not gold yet?!” Vainqueur complained angrily. “I saved your robber king’s princess, slew the evil Furibon, and put the demon grasshopper in his place!”

“The adventurer guild is having a tough time reorganizing their rankings, with all the new dragon adventurers registering. Icefang even created the first dragon only Silver Dragon Adventurer Company.”

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“Silver?” Vainqueur recoiled in disgust. How could Icefang live with himself? “V&V cannot fall behind these poor excuses for dragons, Manling Victor. I swear it, we shall wear gold-plates before the end of the year.”

“Can we talk about the V&V Empire’s situation first, though? I’ve got a lot on my plate—”

“Minion, you are my Grand Dragon Vizier and Doer of the Thing. Dealing with minion administration is your job.” And as long as he was in crippling debt to his dragon master, Vainqueur would not allow him to rest on his laurels.

“I get it, and I’m starting to like it,” Manling Victor trailed off, Vainqueur frowning. Had he not enjoyed it before? “But we’re getting a lot of newcomers, especially representatives from other states or ‘overplanar investors’, and they want to meet the Emperor. Some even say you are dead and your minions are keeping up a charade.”

“What?” Vainqueur’s booming voice made the vault tremble. “Who would be stupid enough to think I can die?”

Had the secret of dragon mortality spread to the paupers? Who else knew?

“Lots of people, apparently.” Manling Victor scratched the back of his head. “It would be good if you could show up, to dispel the rumors.”

The dragon sighed. He could not truly blame them; of course, everyone wanted to see His Majesty in the flesh at least once in their empty life. “Fine, fine,” the dragon replied. “What do they want? To touch my scales, hoping it will cure their sick?”

Come to think of it, Vainqueur could charge the manlings for this service.

Food for thought.

“Well, Your Majesty, the country is now fully yours.”

“Minion, it always was.”

“Yes, but now that the Empire has crushed the elven resistance… which I always wanted to say… we now control all of Ishfania, including the old capital of Mauria. It’s closer to a demon-infested dungeon than anything, which your niece and Kia are busy cleaning up, but Ishfania is more or less pacified.”

The news that his niece had adopted the family business of getting paid for eating smaller creatures warmed Vainqueur’s heart, but he didn’t understand his chief of staff’s point. “And?” Vainqueur replied, losing interest.

“Ishfania may be a desert, it has a lot of potential and many people want a piece of it; there’s also the matter of the Iron Eagle’s remains to deal with. I can make decisions in Your Majesty’s name, but it would be better if you were to grace the doubters with your imperial presence.”

Oh well.