A new day dawned.

  Both Bartlett and Henrietta woke up early that morning, feeling refreshed and ready for the day.

  Henrietta appreciated the sound of waves that lulled her to sleep. While she had no problem living inside a cold, damp cave, this change of scenery and quality of living was very much appreciated. It felt like the true end of her journey, and a start of another one.

  Unfortunately for the princess-turned-dragon, Bartlett came to the rented barn. Her mood immediately soured upon being reminded of what they must do.

  "I am sorry, Henrietta," said Bartlett, sympathizing with her.

  "It's fine. Rules are rules, after all," she said, before standing on her legs and started walking out of the barn.

  "Would you like some breakfast first?" asked Bartlett.

  "I would like to, but I'm not hungry yet," said Henrietta. "Once I do, I'd like to eat something filling, like a roasted whole sheep. You do have that, don't you?"

  "Of course, we do."

  Henrietta noticed Bartlett's insincere tone.

  "You don't sound too sure."

  "I...." Bartlett drooped his head. "I don't know if they have that, to be honest. I can ask the dragon riders, though. They must've fed their dragons with something good. Right?"

  Henrietta stared at Bartlett, letting out a deep growl that intimidated Bartlett. She then huffed and walked past the human without saying another word. Bartlett, not wanting to get into trouble, walked beside her awkwardly.

  As the two walked into the streets of Aldimar, Henrietta started to draw attention due to her unusual scale color. The increased attention on her made her rather worried that one of them happened to be a Wyrithian spy. She wanted to ask Bartlett about this, but decided not to. The last thing she needed was getting into trouble and having to explain why.

  Bartlett was then surprised by the presence of one particular beast race: the gnolls. He was soon greeted by one. The hyena person was tall and looked rather imposing with his wide jaws and black, featureless eyes. When he smiled, he showed a row of sharp teeth that further intimidated Bartlett. He knew how strong their jaws were, and how sharp their teeth were when compared to the feline people of the desert.

  "Hi! Welcome to Aldimar," said the cheery gnoll. His accent was very thick. "I haven't met a dragon rider like you before. Come for a visit?"

  "No, uh...I lived here," said Bartlett. "I'm, uh...I'm looking for Rodvar."

  "Rodvar? Well, you're in luck! I work for him, so I'll take you there! You're in need of a new gear, aren't you?"

  "I am." Bartlett soon noticed more gnolls by the docks, doing some labor work. "I have not seen this many gnolls this far from Rogaria. When did this happen?"

  The gnoll looked at him quizzically. "I thought you lived here."

  "Not for months."

  "Ah, that explains that," said the gnoll, rubbing the back of his hyenoid head. "We're not Rogarians, though. We're Tarasians. But what happened to Rogaria happened to us, too. Civil war plagued our nation, and we had no choice but to leave the nation behind. If it wasn't for kind folks like Rodvar, it'd be a hard life for us. Say, human. Do you think I look weird?"

  "Not for me. I've met gnolls before." Bartlett looked away, not wanting to tell them that he met them as enemies. The only reason he did not immediately draw his sword was because the gnoll was speaking Manarithian.

  Knowing that the conversation could turn awkward soon enough, Bartlett asked, "You said you worked for Rodvar, right?"

  "Mm-hmm," replied the gnoll with a nod.

  "On what capacity?"

  "As his assistant," he said, matter-of-factly.

  This fact amused Bartlett more than the fact that there were gnolls in Aldimar.

  "I thought he doesn't like assistants, saying that only dwarves can appreciate his handiwork."

  "He didn't mention that." The gnoll shrugged.

  "Don't say I do, though." Bartlett smiled. "It's good to know he's open for help."

  "Rodvar's been pretty kind to me when the ship I was on docked here. Everyone did, even though I'm clearly not human-like," said the gnoll. "For that, I feel luckier than my brothers."

  As the two were talking, Henrietta could only silently listen behind them. She was itching for a conversation, but she couldn't. She wanted to talk so badly, to let them know what she had in mind. Politics was not something that interest her, but she had some knowledge for it, so she could understand the plight of the hyena people.

  Her patience was further tested when they reached Rodvar's workshop. The workshop was situated near the docks, with a big, empty space behind the building. There was a reason for that space, and that was seen when a dragon landed, fitted with riding gear and reins, making the dragon looked like a horse. The rider climbed down and was seen patting her dragon. It let out satisfied chirps and growls. While it was endearing and cute, if Henrietta was going to look like that, especially if she was forced to have a bit slip between her teeth to be pulled around, she would rather kill herself!

  As she became concerned by this, yet unable to voice her misgivings, Bartlett and the gnoll entered the workshop and found someone was already there, taking care of the shop.

  "Hey, Rodvar," said the gnoll. "Someone's here asking for you."

  Rodvar looked up the newspaper he was reading and, upon seeing Bartlett, let out a smile, obscured under his thick beard. He climbed down the stool he was seating and walked out of the counter before approaching Bartlett. Bartlett looked down, meeting eyes with the dwarf. He smiled towards the dwarf, who let out a hearty laugh and hugged Bartlett. Even if he was half the height of the human, Rodvar compensated it with a stocky build and a big hug, helped by his big, calloused hands.

  "Laddie!" he said excitedly. "I didn't know you're back already!"

  "Took a long rest after a long trip," said Bartlett. "This kind gnoll accompanied me to your workshop."

  "And now, I'm going to take my leave," said the gnoll. "I'll be back with the shipment, Rodvar."

  "Hold on, Bol. Abila's been asking for you in the forge. I think you should meet her first."

  "Sure will, Rodvar." The gnoll turned his head to Bartlett and said, "See you around, human."

  Bartlett smiled and nodded, as the gnoll walked behind the counter and disappeared behind the veil leading to Rodvar's workshop.

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  "I don't know you take assistants," remarked Bartlett. "I'm more surprised you took gnoll assistants."

  "Abila and Boluti are special cases," said Rodvar. "They were weaponsmiths back in Tarasi."

  "Weaponsmith?" repeated Bartlett.

  "They don't look like it, but there's nothing a little demonstration can't fix. I always admired their works, and they weren't lying when they claimed their skills. Besides, I doubt anyone is going to help them, and there are more and more Rogarian and Tarasian refugees waiting to find a place to stay beyond the designated dormitory. I am not going to turn a blind eye to them. You know why."

  Bartlett simply nodded, understanding his reasoning. Rodvar, too, was dealing with the same problems Bartlett was. Unlike Bartlett, though, he clearly found something he could be proud of.

  "Well, enough of that doom and gloom. What can I do for you, Bart? Chipped your sword fighting a monster? Need your armor fixed?"

  "I want to properly saddle a dragon," said Bartlett. "She's waiting outside."

  "A dragon rider, now?" Rodvar let out a hearty laugh. "You're moving up in the world, lad. For the record, I never divulged your...business. I always said you went monster hunting. To think you'd be friends with one instead of...you know."

  "The dragon's...a prize from my recent job," said Bartlett, steering the conversation away. "It's a long story, Rodvar."

  "You can share that later over a pint or two, lad," said Rodvar. "So, where's the dragon?"

  Bartlett pointed at the pinkish grey dragon. "That's her."

  The dwarf noted pinkish grey-scaled dragon sitting near the fence leading to the big space behind Rodvar's workshop. Her appearance was already striking, especially when compared to the other dragons that she actively tried to avoid. In Rodvar's eyes, she looked like a shy one.

  "Found yourself a beauty, eh, Bart?" said Rodvar, nudging his side. "First Ellie, then the dragon. You do have a knack for finding beauty."

  Bartlett chuckled. "That depends on whether I can keep them close for long. Ellie proved that I can't."

  "Ah, don't worry about it." Rodvar then returned his attention to Henrietta. "So. Managed to get by with just a collar around her neck, eh, lad?"

  "Risking it, more like," said Bartlett. "No one's gonna bat an eye inland, but here? With the dragon guard? I'd rather not risk it. I already got a warning."

  "Eh. don't think about it too much," said Rodvar with a shrug. "But you might get into trouble if your dragon happens to have taken over a dwarven mine."

  "That dragon is too big for comparison," said Bartlett. "Who's going to tame that monster?"

  "You don't. Now, then. Let's take a look at the lass, shall we? Lead her here, would you? She seems rather shy."

  Bartlett could understand why Henrietta was acting like that, and it showed. When Bartlett beckoned at her, she hesitated at first. It took a glare from Bartlett to cause her to stomp her way to the dwarf and the human.

  "I don't know you already trained her that well," said Rodvar, surprised.

  "She's smart," said Bartlett short. "Let's not think too much about it, eh, Rodvar? It's not like horses can't do that."

  A deep growl from Henrietta reminded Bartlett that she was sensitive about being called a horse. He went silent, not wanting to lose a limb, or even his life, unintentionally provoking a dragon that ripped someone's head off with her claws.

  As Henrietta anxiously waited while Rodvar measured her, Bartlett came up with an idea. When the dwarf was finished, Bartlett approached him and said, "Say, Rodvar?"

  "Yes, lad?"

  "I have an unusual request. Could you design the saddle so she would be able to put it on herself?"

  "That is an unusual request," said Rodvar, stroking his beard. "What do you have in mind?"

  "Something like a backpack, with harnesses and buckles that she can manipulate herself. I, uh...found that she can manipulate objects with her forelegs, as if they are hands. Also, uh...she's feisty."

  Henrietta growled at him, refusing to be called 'feisty'. Bartlett shushed her.

  "Oh, I see. You tried saddling her before and it didn't work," said Rodvar. "I can't say I'm confused with your request, Bart, my boy, but I'm glad you understand her well enough."

  "Indeed," said Bartlett as Henrietta let out a huff. When she glanced at one of the dragons wearing a tack, he immediately understand what she was implying.

  "Oh, and another thing. Are the reins necessary?" asked Bartlett.

  "Of course, it is! Dragons are like horses, lad. They're proud creatures but are also dangerous. You need to let them know that you won't harm them and assert your dominance."

  "You sound like you know a thing or two about dragons."

  "I've been in this business for half me life, lad. I know how to make it comfortable for them. You don't want to injure their gums, though they are much tougher than a horse. If you can't control them, you won't be a good dragon rider, then."

  "But, uh...she never did anything like that," reasoned Bartlett.

  "Like I said, lad. You never know when you'll need it."

  Henrietta started to become worried as Rodvar produced the reins, which were leather straps with a prominent steel bit that was intended to be put inside her mouth. The dragon princess started backing away as Rodvar tried to fit the reins on her.

  "Oh, don't worry," said Rodvar. "It might not be comfortable at first, but I made sure it won't hurt. Come on. Be a good girl."

  Henrietta shook her head, causing Bartlett to stand in and said, "I think she doesn't like it, Rodvar."

  "Maybe you should convince her. You already bonded with her, aren't you?"

  "No...well, yes. But..."

  "It's fine," reassured Rodvar. "And also, necessary. If someone out there sees you riding a dragon without reins, you'll be in a lot of trouble. You're not even a trained dragon rider, so the reins are necessary."

  "B-but..."

  Henrietta had enough. Between Bartlett's poor attempt in concealing her secret and Rodvar's relentlessly insisting on reining her, she should have a say in this decision. She was not an animal. She had a voice!

  So, impulsively, and with a deep, growling voice, she said, "You put that thing in my mouth, and I'll bite your hand off."

  Rodvar was evidently shocked when Henrietta spoke. The princess, knowing that he was shocked, said, "I am serious, dwarf. I have teeth I'm not afraid to use. Now, put that thing down."

  "Y-yes," stammered Rodvar. He did what Henrietta asked him to do.

  Bartlett slapped his head, sighed and said, "I know this would happen. Damn it, princess. I told you to let me do the talking!"

  "From where I'm standing, you clearly didn't convince him. At all," commented Henrietta.

  "Lad...," said Rodvar. "I think you should enlighten me."

  "You won't believe me."

  "I'm 145 years old. I've experienced worse things. Try me."

  "Alright, alright. She's not an actual dragon. She's a human cursed into a dragon. Believe me, it took me a while to be convinced."

  Rodvar's reaction, however, was not something Bartlett expected. Instead of being surprised, Rodvar stroked his beard, turned to the dragon, and said, "Well, lass. I'm sorry I'm forcing this on you. I can make you a halter if you're okay with it."

  "I prefer not to have anything on my face," said Henrietta.

  "I'm afraid that's out of the question, my dear. Good thing you don't have to wear them all the time. I still have to make one, though. So, how about it?"

  "If that's the case.... Alright, then."

  Henrietta still did not want to be fitted a halter, but she had no choice but to concede while Rodvar took measurements of her head, thankfully without using the reins he had on hand.

  "You took it quite well," said Bartlett.

  "We dwarves have a story about a king who turned into a dragon who can talk. I don't know if that story's true or not, but it serves its purpose."

  "What purpose?"

  "Don't be consumed by greed, or you'll be a dragon too big to escape the mines. I doubt this curse has anything to do with greed."

  Henrietta shook her head.

  After finishing up his measurements, Rodvar said, "Now, then. I'll make the halter for you, but by Shuru's beard, don't get into trouble or you'll end up having to wear this one." Rodvar held up the bridle with a bit. "And if you got caught biting someone's arm off, I'll bet my beard you won't even be able to open your maws. They'll muzzle ya, or worse, they'll pull your teeth off."

  Henrietta shuddered. "But that's barbaric!"

  "No choice, lass. Dragons are dangerous, fire-breathing creatures with a craving for meat. You can't expect them to behave like horses do. Manarithia in general may welcome dragons and their riders, but once they misbehave...well, you know what I mean."

  Henrietta hastily nodded. She understood when she could no longer ask for too much concessions.

  "Rodvar," said Bartlett. "Do me a favor and don't tell anyone else. This is between you and me, alright? So...if possible, you might want to reign in your visits to the tavern."

  Rodvar spat. "Are you mad, lad?! I am not getting drunk from a wee mug! We held an ancient promise you humans won't ever get to hear. This isn't nothing new, lad!"

  Bartlett sighed in relief, though Rodvar eyed him and Henrietta suspiciously for a moment before shrugging.

  As Rodvar returned to his workshop, Bartlett said, "Whew. I never thought that would go that smoothly."

  "No, it's not," Henrietta said with a growl. "I don't even have any rights! Why must they pull my teeth off if I misbehave?! Do you hold a double standard against dragons or something? I thought this is a kingdom of dragon riders!"

  "How should I know? He could've been messing with you. It's not everyday you get to tease a dragon. Or, he's not teasing you and was being serious about it. He is 145 years old, after all."

  "Whatever the case...being a dragon does not seem to be as inspiring when you're the dragon."

  Bartlett let out a sympathetic nod. Perhaps being a dragon rider was not as grand as the stories made them to be.

  Or perhaps there wasn't enough stories told from the dragon's perspective. Anyone could look grand on a dragon. However, the dragons were nothing more than noble steeds, beasts that were tamed by the knights riding them.

  And that would clearly not going to do the dragon any favor, especially if said dragon was a cursed human.