One week earlier…

  Fiona glanced at the assembled team hiding in a small rocky pathway near the entrance to Doug’s lair—a carved-out cavern that stood on a rocky island in the center of the swampy Renslas fens where they were located, south of Fiefdala. Everyone geared up and was ready for the push into Douglas Fierkraag’s lair.

  “You guys know the plan. Break down the front door, slag the refineries, and if you can help it, see to it the kobolds have a chance to surrender. These guys have been pushovers,” she called out.

  Nick, their current saboteur expert with his black feathers and blue eyes, nodded enthusiastically. “You got it, Fiona. We’ll make sure that any future industry is wrecked. I can’t wait to leave this swamp behind.”

  “Same,” her leather armor-clad companion Cita called out, tying back her long dark hair. “Now, remind me, why am I grabbing all the stuff?”

  “Because it’s treasure, and we don’t want Doug to have any ill-gotten gains!” Fiona explained with a sigh. “Look, the guy stole land that didn’t belong to him, displaced three villages, and made a lot of people’s lives miserable. It’s fair game. You’re securing everything that isn’t bolted down in those magical storage bags.”

  “Living up to my name, I guess,” Cita shrugged. “This feels like a chore, though.”

  “It’s not, though! Looting from greedy dragons is societal justice! We’re doing the world a favor!” Fiona suggested with a wink. “I mean c’mon, there’s no way he acquired all his stuff through legit means.”

  “Ugh. That feels so dirty. It all gets indexed,” Cita pushed back.

  “Alright, alright, fine. Now let’s go do this!”

  Everyone took their positions and advanced on the rocky lair of Douglas. Fiona knew that if Douglas went down, all his subordinates would surrender readily, and limit the damage they might unleash. She almost felt bad about beating them up, because their fighting was awful, unorganized, even. Like they weren’t pouring their hearts into it.

  It painted a different picture from the fliers and the contract she’d signed a month earlier to take up this task, dealing with Douglas—taking him dead or alive, for the crime of land theft and creating a refugee problem in southern Fiefdala. She didn’t know what his deal was, other than he had previously been doing business with the Kingdom, and had been a bother to almost no one until kobolds started invading the surrounding towns.

  That was ending today.

  The advance was swift and without resistance, as they charged across the rocky terrain, the stench of the bog ever-present. Fiona spotted some kobolds without weapons, attending to harvesting peat moss like it was a normal business day.

  The armored kobolds that tried to bite and claw her at the lair entryway were a different matter, and she sent them sailing with her Bahn hammer.

  “You ever wonder how they don’t break bones when you smack them with it?” Nick asked, putting a wad of alchemical paste on the steel-lined door, and attaching a vial of a volatile compound embedded in the middle.

  She shrugged and regarded the fearsome weapon. “I dunno! It comes with two modes. ‘Harm’ and ‘Humiliate’. I keep it on the default setting, since the result is the same.” She glanced at her mud-streaked armor, the gold gleaming dimly in the late morning sun. “I am gonna need a hell of a spa treatment after we get out of this swamp, Nick.”

  “Put me down for that, too!” He offered with a cawing laughter and then fitted a wire around the vial before motioning for them to step behind cover. “Remember, once Douglas has surrendered, make sure he screams it out loudly enough so his guys get this hint, yeah?”

  “Operation ‘dragon tears’ is in effect!” she beamed and clapped her gauntlets together. “I think I can take him by myself.”

  “He’s a dragon, Fiona. You don’t just solo dragons,” he cautioned.

  “I have a good feeling on this! I’ve beaten every monster that’s tried to gnaw on my face, so far! There have been quite a few.” She grabbed an alchemical grenade, one for blinding the fearsome beast, and a few potions to up her fire resistance. It wouldn’t make her fireproof, but it should be enough to keep her from getting roasted.

  “You know what? I think you’ve got this.” Nick signaled to the other adventurers, a mixture of rookies and well-prepared veterans, and triggered the detonator.

  Fiona rushed in as the smoke cleared from the demolition, hammer in hand and making short work of the armored kobolds holding their ears, looking disoriented from the deafening blast. They got bounced like scaly pinballs in the close confines of the lair.

  Everyone split off to secure the various side passages, with the smooth carved stone showing a dedication to magical engineering. It was pretty, almost, with marble floors, decorations of various Cepalunean cultures, and furnishings that spoke more of practicality than luxury.

  If she had been reborn in this world as a dragon, this is how she’d decorate her lair. With coziness in mind.

  More panicking kobolds ran for the door, rather than fight her, and the adventurer’s behind her gave them orders to surrender and drop their weapons. She heard most of them drop their gear on the floor, sobbing and crying. They knew the party was over, and Fiefdala had had enough of this incursion.

  Another heavily locked door to the center of the lair, just past a large living space complete with a hearth and a dragon-sized couch, awaited her. She heard muffled shouts. “What’s going on out there? Someone let me out!”

  What was strange about this door, was that the lock was on the outside. And the loud, male voice on the other side sounded deep and charismatic—just like a dragon should. “C’mon, let me out, damn it! I’ve been stuck in this retreat for long enough, Karlin, just keep ignoring me like you always do!”

  Fiona took a measure of the door. Her hammer could easily bash this obstacle aside. She grinned and knocked on the door.

  “What the—who knocks on a barricaded door?” someone called out on the other side.

  “Knock knock.” Fiona grinned as she lined up the hammer, and tested a practice swing.

  “No, you already knocked. Why are you now vocalizing your actions?” the voice asked, sounding confused.

  “Knock, knock,” she repeated.

  “Great. Make fun of me more, why don’t you! Stripping my dignity wasn’t enough?” she heard the muffled voice grumble. “What game is this?!”

  “No, you’re supposed to answer, ‘Who’s there!’ and then I answer!” Fiona called out. Sheesh. This culture in Cepalune is so strange sometimes. People talk about classes like careers, and no one does knock-knock jokes.

  “Okay. Who’s there?”

  “Dragon.” She lined up the hammer, as she heard someone scoff.

  “No, I’m the dragon. You sound like a Folk.”

  “No, the answer is supposed to be ‘dragon who?’ you dunce!” Fiona called out, her brow twitching.

  “Okay, weirdo. Dragon who?”

  Fiona bashed the doorway with the hammer with all her might, and both halves of the door busted inward, knocking back the red-scaled dragon who had been standing at the door, and the doors fell onto his body.

  “Why you dragon this out?!” she grinned as she measured up her foe, who had picked himself off the floor. He was three meters tall, with bright red scales, golden eyes, and crimson feathers adorning his wings, head, and face.

  The dragon stared at her. “You pulverized my door, and and then you dare to mock me with puns?!”

  “Douglas the Red?” she demanded, winding up her hammer.

  “Yessss…that’s me?”

  “You know what, doesn’t matter. You’re the jerk who sent a kobold army to invade people’s homes. The beatings commence until you surrender,” she added with a grin.

  He looked at her blankly. “You think I sent an army of—oh, are they all this dumb?”

  Her ears flattened against her head. “Really? You’re gonna be a smartass? You know what, talks’ done.”

  Doug took a fighting stance and held out sharpened claws. “I don’t know what’s going on, other than I’ve been stuck in here, but I can assure you—”

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  Clang.

  Her hammer struck true and sent the dragon flying backward on impact, denting his chest scales. He careened backward, smashing through a chair in what looked to be a large living quarters, along with a dragon-sized bed, and various paintings decorating the stone walls. An ornate rug furnished the middle of the room, and he tumbled to a halt, looking at her in fury.

  “Oh, is that how we’re gonna do this?!” he snarled. “He sent you to humiliate me further? Oh, I’m right pissed now! I hope you’ve notified your next-of-kin of your pending suicide by stupidity—”

  Clang.

  She loved that sound the hammer made as it connected against his jaw, sending his head snapping backward, along with the rest of his massive body, and he turned the chair into kindling. He regarded the broken furniture with ire.

  “That was priceless! It belonged to Ferdinand the First!”

  “Well, yeah, I guess you can’t put a price on wreckage,” she grinned. He snarled and a spark of fire emerged from his nostrils.

  “Oh, that tears it!” He let out a blast of flame she dodged with incredible grace, dodging past the burning rug and mantling over the bedframe, while Doug grabbed a wand off a rack of tools that sat in a corner. He fired off the blast of water, barely missing her, and she leaped upward and got another smash into his chest, sending him flying backward.

  “Surrender, big scary dragon! Or the beatings will continue!” she screamed out.

  Doug was not surrendering and tried to lash out with his claws, and a tail swipe she tumbled over with grace. A massive smash on his foot left him howling in pain, hopping up and down, and opened him to another attack, denting his scales, sending him smashing into the wall, and cracking stone.

  “Say it, you overgrown lizard! Say you surrender!” she wound up and dodged past another puff of flame.

  “I’d rather die!”

  He clearly didn’t want to, after several more rounds of turning the dragon into a pinball in his own home, and his snout was bleeding and a few teeth were cracked. He was prone on the ground, gazing at her with a panicked expression, and scrambling frantically. “What is your major malfunction?! What did I do to deserve this?!”

  “Like you don’t know?! I guess stealing people’s land is so routine for you, that you didn’t even think what you did was wrong!” she snarled. “Surrender and give me all your stuff! Or I can turn you into my next armor set!”

  Doug finally broke down and sobbed and tapped out as she stood on top of his scaly back, and steamy tears rolled down his face. “Okay, fine, fine! I yield! I just never want to see you again, you crazy elf chick!”

  “Pleasure doing business with you!” she beamed, just as the rest of the adventurers rushed in, surveying the damage. “It’s handled, guys! He gave up!”

  Nick let out a bird whistle. “Fiona, the one-woman dragon layer.”

  “I think you mean ‘slayer’, and he’s not dead,” she added, giving him a pat on his head. Doug let out a wailing sob and made a soft wave with his hand. “Now Doug, we got some paperwork to do. Also, some demolition, so you don’t do this again.”

  “Fine, whatever, just go away! I’ll sign the papers!”

  And that, was the fastest anyone had ever beaten a dragon, in her mind.

  “No way! That guy folded that easily?!” Bonnie exclaimed, and leaned in.

  It was evening now, and Gregory, Bonnie, and Fiona were seated at a private table at McFly’s diner, which had the best food on this side of the city. The place was bustling, even for a weeknight. Commoners and nobles alike dined here, and the warm, red-painted walls and bright white floors of the diner gave a sense of something modern. Chestnut-colored wooden tables and comfy booth seats were plentiful, and arcane wisp lights illuminated the eatery in a low golden ambiance.

  Fiona had come across the place early after her arrival in Fiefdala as a cheap place to eat with hearty food. The owner was a stern-faced, barrel-chested, blue scaled and muscular lizardman named Jarl, who always cracked a smile when she walked in the door. He smiled for no one else except his wife Laura, who worked in the back.

  The first thing he’d done was offer them appetizers for free, but Fiona smiled and said they had to play it fair. She couldn’t help but notice her portion of loaded tubers was a bit bigger than the others, though.

  Bonnie was dressed in a low-cut dress that matched her orange fur, her hair was tied back with a scrunchie, looking as cute as ever. Greg was there in a casual long-sleeved tunic and slacks, sipping on a spritz drink that the air elemental at the counter made. She’d had one of those drinks before, and it reminded her of root beer, but with a bit more bitter after-flavor. Greg gave her a look of disdain when she stole his drink for a sip.

  “Fiona, it’s like you never stop eating. Or stealing my food,” he stated flatly. She smiled at him and leaned in.

  “It tastes better if it’s stolen, Greg. You’ll learn eventually. So yeah, that’s how it happened! Those kobolds were just, oh my goodness, adorable. Like little lizard plushies! I mean yeah, they were trying to kill me or set me on fire, but I was like, nah, these guys just need a good beating! So I went bam, wham, shazam!”

  Fiona pounded the table for emphasis, grinning from ear to pointy ear, and a fry dislodged from Greg’s hand when the table shook. He looked unhappily at the sauce staining his hand.

  “And Douglas just gave up like that?” Greg asked in disbelief.

  “Seriously, a dragon was begging for forgiveness?” Bonnie said with a shake of her head, and leaned in even further.

  “Yep. Then he had the nerve to ask me for help to go on some grand quest to clear his name! The guy must have thought I was dumb or something like I didn’t just smash him into the landscape while barely breaking a sweat!” she boasted.

  “Dearie, I think you have a mean streak,” Bonnie said while giggling.

  “Nonsense! I held back a bit! I got that morphic weapon as a gift from saving the Duke of Bahn two months ago, on a little side gig I did. How could I resist? I got my Bahn hammer!” she said while leaning back and looking proud.

  Bonnie was taking a sip from her glass and sputtered while trying to laugh at the same time, and barely even noticed her fur was dripping wet. “How do you even carry that thing? It’s comically huge, Fiona, you must be like pure wired muscle!”

  “Dearie, you’ve seen me, I’m not that buff,” Fiona said proudly. Bonnie twirled her fur lightly while wearing a contented smile, and Greg raised an eyebrow of curiosity. “Elves have hyper-dense muscles or something! Anyway, that was it. He signed the papers of surrender, his kobolds had to march further south, and now there’s a peacekeeping division of Greybeard’s regular soldiers there. Problem solved!”

  “Fiona, the terror of dragons. You might be better served with laying with them, rather than trying to slay them,” Greg quipped. She glared at him, and one ear twitched.

  “I don’t mind dating outside my own species, but my last boyfriend was eaten by a dragon!”

  “Billy’s not dead,” Greg countered. “The dragon didn’t eat him. Who told you that one?”

  “That was Felix who told me that,” Fiona said, confused. “You’re telling me Billy is not dragon food?”

  “Yep,” Greg sighed.

  “What a dummy,” Fiona said with a wavy hand. “He didn’t even give me a proper break-up message? Man, he’s dead to me.”

  “I think he’s dating that dragon,” Bonnie interjected.

  “Nope, he’s dead to me, I don’t care if he’s dating a banshee,” Fiona stated with anger, her ears tucked back against her skull.

  The conversation was interrupted briefly as dinner was brought out, by Jarl, with a toothy lizard grin. “Darling, it’s been a spell, I saw you come in, how’ve you been?” he asked warmly.

  “It’s been a bit of a day, and we needed good food to warm our souls!” she answered with a warm smile. “Oh my gosh, that noodle bowl looks better than ever, Jarl.”

  “Eh. Just a little practice with the missus and the staff,” he replied. Her mouth watered at that noodle bowl with all the toppings just off to the side–her favorite! She wondered how many other people from Earth were here, and didn’t think to reinvent a few classics.

  Jarl rubbed at his feather crest and glanced around the table. “Gregory, tell me you’re not letting this pointy-eared heart melter get into too much trouble, yeah? I’m a part dragon! I don’t want a thumping; I just want good business!” he said with a hearty laugh.

  “I’m trying, Jarl. But Miss Swiftheart here seems to find trouble like a magnet finds north,” he added shrewdly. She kicked his shin gently under the table and pouted her lips. “Ow. Be nice.”

  “Me, be nice? It’s in my name! Except for evil, sneaky exes!” she stated and folded her arms across her chest.

  Jarl laughed harder and clapped a clawed hand on Greg’s shoulder. “You know what, forget what I said, she’s alright. I have to remind myself that Miss Swiftheart here is as strong as she is a cutie, and a presence all herself!”

  “Aw, you’re such a big softy, Jarl!” she declared with a kissy face. The scales on his face went from blue to purple, and he glanced at the kitchen entrance. “Anyway, I’ll catch up with you to tell you all about my exploits, but I got a time-sensitive problem.

  “Oh, you know I’ll be here. The missus also says hi from the kitchen, too! She missed your fiery-haired mane wandering in every morning,” he replied before pointing a thumb to the swinging doors. “Drop by and give her a smile, yeah?”

  “Oh, of course, I will!” Jarl bowed slightly before heading back to the other tables, writing orders and holding his pen with his tail, then walked back into the kitchen.

  “So, what is the plan?” Bonnie pressed. “Greg filled me on some of it…what did you do to piss Barry off that he would dump this on you?”

  “I have no idea. I just opened up my soul to the taxman with an audit. I need to sell this unfathomable loot at a high enough profit to get rid of this debt, if I can’t find a way to zero it,” she groaned. Then inspiration struck her as she recalled something Bonnie said earlier. “Bonnie, you were planning on setting up shop in that old textile mill, right?”

  “I was. Greg and I were looking at locales, and that was one of them. But I think it’s way too big for a shop of mine. Why?”

  “I need retail space. I need it cheap, I need it fast, and I need it in a prime location to get all the high-end clientele and I think I might have some strategies to keep building revenue. I think we could build a team.”

  “You want to share the space?” Bonnie asked, ears perked up at a canted angle. “You don’t even need to ask, it’s too much space for me! But…with a giant warehouse of dragon loot to sell…it might just work!”

  “Aw thank you, Bonnie! I also need a name that doesn’t suck. Do you know Magoo’s emporium? That place at the south end of town? They keep selling weird dismembered paw things that count off fingers when people make wishes. It’s kinda creepy, now that I think about it. There is never anyone in there.”

  “Hang on. You want to go…into business with me?” Bonnie asked nervously. Fiona placed a hand over hers firmly and smiled.

  “Bonnie, seriously, you’re my friend, and you won’t lose that status if I go broke. Or, you know, ghostly,” Fiona said proudly, and the kitsune practically wilted at the table. “You too, Greg. But smile more, you need to work on those facial muscles! You need to look like a dragon, when it comes to danger time!”

  “My face hurts when I stretch it,” he muttered. She proceeded to pinch his lips into a forced smile.

  “Nonsense! Pain goes away with practice! Now, let’s finish up, and go start my master plan! Tucker’s gonna start clawing my couch if I’m out too late.”

  With the meal finished, they departed for the evening, and Fiona looked upward at the night sky, after waving goodbye to Bonnie and Greg. She took in that smell of a lingering summer sweetness. She hoped that she could get a message through to old Greybeard, she had done him a huge favor. She just kept getting the messenger that was attending to him.

  In the meantime, she had a game plan to put together. She had weapons, armor and equipment for the old job. This new one required different tools and means to battle. She entered her apartment with little fanfare, closed the lock, and was greeted by her loving phase cat. Tucker playfully pounced on her as she tucked under the covers, wondering if she was making a mistake, going into business again.

  I should be in terror that someone put a timer on my life. I could have smashed Barry’s face, and no one could have stopped me. I’ve got strength here that I never had on Earth. Why didn’t I?

  She stared at the ceiling, purring softly as he stretched his body along her side, kneading the comforter on top. She let out a soft sigh. She had her answer.

  Because that’s not who I am. I only fight against monsters. I need to never forget what I learned on Earth.

  And I’m not losing my friends. Never again.

  Never.