The red dragon, of all true dragons, is the most rapacious, the most haughty, the most vainglorious, and the most lascivious.
The Book of Dragons, published by the Coast Wizards’ Guild.
Beyond the princess’s chamber, where stained glass cast kaleidoscopes of color, the clatter of plate armor echoed—the unmistakable rhythm of guards on the move.
Obus rolled from the princess’s bed, his limbs striking the marble floor with feline grace.
Like a tiger, he stretched forward, arms extended, hips raised in a languid yawn that rippled through his massive frame.
A mercury mirror, gleaming on the wall, caught his eye.
He sauntered toward it, the mirror’s exorbitant cost a badge of royalty—nobles always demanded the largest to flaunt their status.
Yet this two-meter slab of silvered glass failed to capture the entirety of Obus’s towering form.
He stepped back, pressing against the wall, until the mirror at last revealed him in full.
“Darling.”
The princess, her golden hair spilling loose, slipped behind him, wrapping her arms around his iron-hard bicep.
Her cheeks flushed shyly as her delicate fingers kneaded his muscle, her voice soft with adoration.
“You’re all steel and strength, aren’t you? ❤”
Clad only in a whisper-thin silk nightgown, her slender calves peeked from beneath the hem.
One leg brushed against his, a tentative caress, before retreating as if she were a skittish kitten, playful yet bashful.
Obus scarcely noticed her.
These praises, this devotion—were they not his due?
Far more captivating was the reflection before him: the broad chest that could bear a galloping horse, arms like stone pillars, a bald head gleaming like a polished cannon dome.
No less than the ten-time champion of the greatest red dragons, even in human form, he was a monument of might.
A clamor of hurried footsteps, laced with the metallic jangle of steel, surged from beyond the door.
The princess snapped from her reverie, her voice urgent.
“Someone’s betrayed us! That old fool is coming—quick, darling, flee through the balcony! I’ll guide you!”
Obus tilted his head.
“Hm?”
The door rattled with the force of a key grinding in its lock.
It swung open to reveal a portly emperor, his eyes bulging, a trembling finger aimed at the pair.
The diminutive princess darted to Obus’s side, half-hidden behind his bulk.
“Guards!” the emperor roared.
“Seize this beast who’s defiled my daughter’s virtue and throw him in the dungeon!”
Clang, clang, clang—four armored guards advanced, their halberds’ spiked tips straining upward to threaten Obus’s towering frame.
“It’s not what you think!” the princess cried.
“I chose this! We only shared a bed, nothing more—Obus is pure, innocent as a child!”
The emperor’s face flickered between ashen and livid, his teeth grinding audibly.
“Damn it! What will people say? Even I haven’t—Guards, did you not hear my command?”
The guards sidestepped the princess, their halberds jabbing toward Obus.
Her scream—“No!”—pierced the air as the spearheads sank half an inch into his chiseled chest.
With a flex of his muscles, a surge of raw power sent the guards staggering backward, crashing to the floor in a heap of clattering steel.
“Why?”
Obus’s gaze drifted from the mirror, one hand resting on the princess’s bare shoulder.
“You little insects dare to poke me with these pointy sticks?”
The emperor recoiled.
“What are you?”
“Don’t answer a question with a question, insect.”
The emperor, shooting a glance at a servant behind him, stammered, “Because you’ve sullied my daughter’s honor, you—you muscle-bound brute of unknown origin!”
He flinched, fearing he’d provoked the giant before him.
“You’re her father, are you?”
Obus said.
“Then you should be groveling in gratitude. I’ve bestowed upon your daughter the most noble, most dominant bloodline in the world.”
The princess’s face burned crimson.
She clutched his hand, whispering, “Don’t say that.”
The emperor’s eyes narrowed, his voice oily.
“This room’s too small for such matters. Let’s discuss this outside—in the garden beyond the balcony.”
“Indeed, this stone nest is cramped.”
Obus scooped the princess up by the waist, ducked through the balcony doors, and leapt.
Her shriek rang out as they plummeted from the third floor.
Obus descended like a leaf on the wind, landing beside the garden’s fountain with preternatural ease.
The princess, caught in the weightless thrill, clung to his arm, her heart pounding against his searing chest.
She met his molten-gold eyes, their heat setting her pulse racing until she tore her gaze away, overwhelmed.
“You’re so small,” Obus said.
She took it as praise, her voice soft.
“Take me with you, Obus. My father—he’s cruel, ruthless. He’ll kill you.”
“No.”
Obus’s eyes lingered on her.
“I want to look at you a little longer.”
Hooves thundered.
The emperor, astride a warhorse, appeared on the white stone path.
“You’re not escaping anywhere!”
A swarm of gold-cloaked guards poured in from all sides.
A translucent azure barrier shimmered into existence, doming the garden like an upturned bowl.
Even the princess’s balcony bristled with archers, their longbows drawn.
“No!” the princess wailed.
“Father, you let them into my room?”
“You’re bewitched by a demon!” the emperor snapped.
“Release my daughter!”
Obus gently set the princess by the fountain, stepping in front of her.
“So many little insects buzzing around me.”
“Kill him!”
“No, Father, nothing happened last night!”
At the court mage’s incantation, the archers’ arrows flared with magical light, loosed like a swarm of locusts.
Beneath their cover, a gleaming magical sword streaked toward Obus.
A gout of flame erupted from his mouth, reducing the arrows to ash.
The emperor smirked.
The true strike was the magic sword—a weapon that could cleave a mammoth in twain.
As the flames faded, charred and broken arrows littered the ground.
Obus, unscathed, gripped the magic sword in one hand.
The blade, invincible and humiliated, thrashed futilely in his grasp.
“Gaga! One thousand three hundred and two gold coins!”
Obus let out a bizarre laugh, then opened his maw and swallowed the sword whole.
“A fine gift, insect. I’ll spare your miserable lives for now.”
The guards hesitated, their charge faltering.
The emperor’s eyes bulged, his voice rising to a bellow—until a new voice cut through.
“Wait, Your Majesty.”
An elf, his long ears unmistakable, stepped forward.
Behind him, a radiant unicorn, garlanded with flowers, pawed the ground.
These intelligent, sacred creatures were treated as equals by men.
The emperor had gone to great lengths to secure the elf ambassador and his unicorn, hoping their blessing would elevate his daughter’s beauty to legendary status, renowned beyond the capital, beyond borders.
Out of respect for the elf, whose bond with his great-grandfather had been forged in blood, the emperor softened his tone.
“What is it, Ambassador?”
“He may be the Dread Dragon of legend—the one who once abducted our princess, our queen, and our consort!”
The emperor blinked.
“Queen and consort together? Do your elven royals practice same-sex unions for heirs?”
The ambassador bristled.
“Fool, it didn’t strike just once! It’s as ancient as our kind. Tread carefully—anger it, and your daughter won’t be the only one to suffer.”
The emperor drew a deep breath, muttering to himself that an emperor must endure humiliation.
A sizzling sound interrupted.
Obus spat molten gold into the fountain, where it hardened.
He scooped up the gleaming mass and strode forward.
The guards parted instinctively.
Obus tossed the gold at the emperor’s feet, cackling.
“Take it, you worthless insect. Raise my bloodline well, gaga!”
The emperor’s hand trembled on his sword hilt, his restraint fraying.
“Accept it,” the ambassador hissed.
“At least your daughter may bear a dragon’s kin.”
But I wanted her as my queen, the emperor thought, swallowing his rage.
His voice dripped with sarcasm.
“Such generosity, bleeding gold like that.”
“No trouble,” Obus said.
“I found it in your treasury yesterday.”
“What?”
The emperor’s voice cracked.
“You emptied my vault? You dug that tunnel?”
Obus shrugged.
“Dug it with my bare hands. Got tired, found a room to sleep in.”
“You thief!”
“Thief?” Obus tilted his head. “That vault was mine. You were merely holding it for me.”
“Enough!”
The emperor, ignoring the ambassador’s pleas, roared, “Kill him!”
The guards surged forward, engulfing Obus in a tide of steel.
A bone-shaking dragon’s roar erupted, a crimson shockwave blasting outward.
Men fell prostrate, the azure barrier shattered, and even the emperor’s warhorse knelt.
Obus tossed the gold at the emperor’s pale feet.
“Strange insects. Don’t the weak merely hold gold for the strong?”
The princess, barefoot and clutching her skirts, approached.
“I’ll go with you, darling. Darling? Obus?”
Obus stood transfixed, staring at the unicorn until the princess jumped, waving a hand before his eyes.
He blinked.
“Such a beautiful creature,” he murmured.
He strode toward the trembling unicorn, scooping it up despite its frantic kicks.
Turning to the princess, he said, “Farewell, little thing.”
“You’re leaving?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“But you said we’d have children!”
“Not anymore. I’ve found something better.”
“With it?”
“Her,” the elf ambassador corrected, rising from his knees.
“Farnfar is sentient, a gift from the forest gods to our people!”
“Why?” the princess demanded.
“Gaga?”
Obus looked puzzled.
“Her coat gleams, her eyes shine, her neck arches proudly, her form flows with grace. Those powerful hind legs—when she kicks me, the force is intoxicating. She moves with elegance, exuding a charm unmatched…”
The princess swayed, stunned.
“…while you, with your twiggy arms and legs, your pitiful chest, and bony hips, could never bear my dragon’s kin. Your hair’s decent, maybe a tenth as fine as her mane, but in beauty? She slaughters you, gaga! She’s worthy to mother my heirs.”
The princess, famed as the empire’s flower, adored by countless suitors, had never imagined losing to a unicorn.
Something in her shattered.
She yanked the emperor’s sword from his belt, screaming, and lunged at Obus.
The blade sank into his abdominal muscles.
With a flex, he sent her sprawling.
“Strange little insect,” Obus said.
He leapt skyward, transforming into a dragon, and soared away.
Behind him, the golden-haired princess collapsed on the stone path, her hair spilling around her, sobbing inconsolably.
Days later, the emperor of the Yanhall Empire declared that an ancient evil dragon had abducted the princess, renowned as the empire’s flower.
He offered land, a true title, and half his treasury as a bounty for slaying the Dread Dragon.
The proclamation sparked fervor across the world.
Bards sang of it continent-wide, spurring warriors to form dragon-slaying bands, driven to rescue the princess.
In the dragon’s lair, Obus, sated from a “human-shaped buffet,” spat out a hairball.
It rolled to the ground, and chattering goblins and green-skinned orcs scrambled to dispose of it.
A few goblins donned the helmets of fallen adventurers, clanging weapons against them, laughing gleefully.
These were the ancient red dragon’s minions—and, at times, his meal.
Obus extended a claw, bellowing, “Green snacks!”
The goblins scattered, shedding armor.
Orcs rolled up their sleeves, chasing the slower goblins, pummeling them into a pile.
They bound the goblins’ limbs, forming a wriggling heap, then fled.
Obus snatched the goblin pile, tossed it into his maw, roasted it with a breath of fire, and crunched contentedly.
He grabbed a few orcs for dessert, belched, and dragged his bloated belly to his nest.
The lair was a vast slab of lava rock, its cracks oozing warm magma.
Obus loved its heat, perfect for a cozy nap.
He sprawled, catlike, hips raised, stretching his back before yawning and curling up, tucking his foreclaws beneath him.
Sleep took him.
In his dreams, he saw his long-lost sister, one horn broken, her scales pale with albinism, too weak to survive.
She should have been culled, surrounded by siblings ready to hunt her.
He’d fought them off, protecting her.
Foolish.
In the end, she’d kicked him and left. As she should.
The long dream ended with a shout.
“Foul dragon! I, Richard, come to smite you in the name of justice!”
The roar jolted him awake.
Obus’s golden eyes cracked open.
His green minions fled in panic, parting for an intruder clad in white armor, wielding a gleaming greatsword, striding over orc corpses.
The first “canned insect” to reach his lair.
Obus’s draconic gaze, molten and sharp, zoomed in on the man’s face.
Handsome.
Likely delicious when charred.
He rose, feeling a blockage in his gut, and spat another hairball at the intruder’s feet.
“Gaga! Iron-shelled roast bug—a fine breakfast!”
Ignoring his tingling foreclaws, Obus roared, his mountain-sized bulk lunging at the paladin Richard.
Richard bellowed, “Holy Slash!”
He’s just in a pressure cooker, if you get the reference…
lol