That evening, a steaming pot of stewed mutton was ready.
The villagers’ eyes gleamed with hunger as they gathered around, though one poor soul had left strict instructions before departing: the lamb was meant for the adorable little girl named Aurina.
Her appetite, they’d been warned, was positively voracious.
But how could a single child, no matter how ravenous, polish off an entire sheep?
Surely, once she’d had her fill, it wouldn’t do to let the rest go to waste.
With this perfectly reasonable logic in mind, the adults shooed the salivating children to the sidelines, barking, “This is for the grown-ups who work hard!”
Rough, calloused hands clutched wooden bowls, poised for the moment the lid would be lifted.
As for Aurina?
Whether by oversight or intent, no one handed her a bowl, though no one shoved her aside to wait at the back either.
Someone lifted the pot’s lid, peered inside, and declared, “It’s almost done.”
At that, eyes widened, fixed on the steaming cauldron.
An elder, revered and leaning on his cane, hobbled forward to scold, “One at a time! Don’t spill the pot—there’s enough for everyone!”
He stood before the bubbling pot, its rich aroma wafting behind him.
Aurina, hearing the word “eat,” was lost in a reverie of roasted lamb, its crispy, golden skin dusted with cumin, the juicy meat bursting with flavor as she bit into it.
Her stomach growled, and a trickle of drool escaped her lips.
Without a word to anyone, she strode forward, unimpeded by the crowd.
To everyone’s astonishment, Aurina reached into the fire, hoisted the massive pot with ease, and balanced it atop her tiny dragon horns.
Humming a lilting dragon-tongue tune, she sauntered off with it.
“Once there was a mighty dragon, strong but poor, who prayed to Tiamat for gold…”
The villagers stood dumbfounded.
First, they marveled at the audacity of this child, snatching a pot in front of so many adults.
Then, they gaped at her strength.
It wasn’t until someone shouted, “The lamb! The lamb!” that they snapped out of their stupor and chased after her.
They found Aurina perched on a tree branch, the pot secured by her dragon tail and feet wrapped around the trunk.
She’d tossed the lid aside and was clutching a steaming, glistening leg of mutton, ready to tear into it with her teeth.
The crowd below erupted.
“Hey, kid!” one shouted, waving a hand.
“We cooked that! How can you just take it and eat first? What about the rest of us?”
“The rest?”
Aurina licked the lamb leg with a grin.
“Don’t worry, this king will finish it all. I’ve licked it—it’s mine now.”
She took a hearty bite, chewed, and swallowed, wrinkling her nose.
“Ugh, this is awful. Nothing like raw meat. Compared to my pack beast’s cooking, this is pathetic.”
The villagers’ faces flushed with fury.
Some shouted, trying to coax her down with the pot.
An old man, leading a scrawny child, wailed, “He’s just a boy, look how thin he is!”
But Aurina remained unmoved.
She tore into the meat, sip by sip draining the broth, savoring the flavor only because of the chattering “insects” below.
Someone raised a pole to prod her down, but others quickly restrained him.
“I’m full,” Aurina announced, tossing the pot to the ground.
The villagers peered into the gleaming, empty bottom and slowly dispersed.
Aurina let out a satisfied belch.
She wouldn’t need to eat for days.
When would Richard, that pack beast of hers, return?
***
Richard trudged along a mountain path, his armor dented with fresh holes, his packhorse long gone.
The road ahead grew familiar, and he let out a sigh of relief.
He’d found the way back to Cabbage Village after a grueling detour.
But his relief was short-lived.
The goblin problem was worse than expected—not dozens, not two hundred, but nearly five hundred of them.
Numbers alone were a headache, but he could manage if he avoided their traps and swarms.
Yet, to his dismay, some goblins were dragon-kin, red-scaled and strong, hurling spears with deadly force and wielding fire magic.
No wonder the local lord was overwhelmed.
Compared to true dragons or giants, they were weaker, but their relentless attacks could wear down even the stoutest defenses.
A stray spear might find the visor of his helmet, piercing an eye.
Or they’d notice the chainmail at his rear, the unprotected inner thighs.
In a one-on-one fight, he could angle himself to protect those vulnerabilities.
But against a goblin horde, strikes came from every direction.
As he walked, the houses of Cabbage Village emerged from the hidden forest.
It was quiet—too quiet.
Richard’s heart sank.
He’d been delayed a day by the goblin ambush, forced to take the long way back.
And he’d left a young, untamed evil dragon in the village.
The villagers, famished for meat, might have followed his orders for the first meal.
But the second?
The third?
Would they clash with Aurina?
If she revealed her dragon nature, would the desperate, hungry villagers sell her off?
Aurina, who still called him “little bug” even after a good whack to her head, hadn’t learned to coexist with humans.
What if he returned to find her feasting on their entrails?
Even if her nature was wicked, was he the true culprit for leaving a young evil dragon with starving villagers and a sheep?
Quickening his pace, he scanned the village.
No flames, no burning houses—a good sign.
A farmwoman was bent over in the cabbage fields.
He approached.
“Good afternoon, may I—”
“You’re finally back!” She straightened, her face weary.
“The noble and great Dragon King Who Slays Seven at Once has been waiting for her servant to return.”
“What?”
“Don’t just stand there,” she said.
“Get back and roast a lamb for the Dragon King. She’s been raving about your whole-roast lamb, demanding you serve her at once.”
“You mean Aurina?”
Richard gestured to her height.
“The red-haired girl, white dress, barefoot?”
“Yes.”
“How am I her servant?”
“She says you’re her pack beast, meant to roast her food.”
“And how’s she the Dragon King?”
The farmwoman gave him an odd look.
“She claims she’s the greatest dragon in the world.”
Of course she didn’t take her own words seriously.
“Why do you all believe her?”
“The kids love playing with her. We were worried about goblins snatching them, so we kept them indoors. But with her, we feel safe.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“She faced seven goblins—one with dragon scales that breathed fire. She slapped them down, killed all seven in one blow. The fire-breather froze in terror and dropped dead.”
“She protected the village?”
“She’s the noble and great Dragon King Who Slays Seven at Once,” the woman corrected.
“The village council gave her that title last night.”
It fit their simplistic view of the world.
Richard shook his head, still dazed, as he headed to roast a lamb for the so-called Dragon King.
He began to reflect.
Had he judged Aurina too harshly because of her lineage, her father?
Assuming she was a murderer-in-waiting, an evil dragon in the making, was unfair.
Even a naturally wicked dragon could be guided toward goodness with proper care.
She was proof of that—he’d just been too blind to see it.
At the village entrance, he spotted Aurina.
Amid the ragged, patched-up children, her silk white dress and footless stockings stood out.
The kids wielded sticks tied with stones, trailing behind her, chanting her grandiose title.
She carried one child on her shoulder, while others tickled him, making him giggle.
A black cat perched on her head, another cradled in her arms, as she strutted like a general inspecting her troops.
Richard’s expression softened.
Aurina was just a girl, dragon or not, full of childlike joy and games.
She caught sight of him and bounded over, shouting, “Little bug, you’re late! Couldn’t handle a few goblins, huh?”
She cackled.
“Now, hurry up and serve your master, the Red Dragon King Who Slays Seven at Once, with your finest offering!”
Richard chuckled, reaching to pat her head.
“What flavor of roast lamb do you want?”
The black cat on her head lunged, scratching his hand.
“Respect your master!”
Aurina declared with a haughty grin.
“That’s my emergency ration cat number one warning you!”
“Alright, great master,” Richard said, laughing.
“How may I serve you?”
Aurina pointed to the ground.
“Bow down, let this king ride you.”
Richard knelt, and she clambered onto his shoulders, her legs gripping his helmet as she gazed imperiously at the crowd.
The children cheered, shouting her title.
Richard indulged her play, but she tapped his helmet sharply.
“This king understands your foolish deed.”
“What foolish deed?”
“Hunting goblins for villagers whose entire wealth doesn’t amount to 152 gold coins.”
Aurina’s voice grew excited.
“You must be offering them as slaves to me!”
“What?”
“Then lock up a princess, and fools will come to rescue her, making us rich!”
She smacked his helmet, her eyes gleaming with mischief.
“Those green runts have dragon blood, so I can crush them like a grandfather swatting a grandson.”
“Not bad, little bug. A few days in my presence, and my overflowing wisdom has rubbed off on your dim brain.”
“You’ve got a twentieth of my brilliance now!”
She paused, frowning.
“Wait, why are we heading to your hovel?”
“Stay outside,” Richard told the children at the door.
“No matter what, don’t open it.”
The door shut, and soon his stern voice echoed from within.
“Aurina! What are you planning?”
The children exchanged glances, memories of parents wielding switches at home flashing through their minds.
They dropped the boy they were carrying and scattered like frightened birds.