Dargon. (Original Fantasy)

Dargon 1.8: Labor


You are a dragon, and you hate manual labor. Not because you actually despise work mind you – if you did, then you would've just taken up Grandmomma's mantle in the family business and be done with it.

No. You were not lazy. A lazy dragon did not go out into the unknown and establish their territory. A lazy dragon did not (try to) carve out their own lair. A lazy dragon certainly didn't have the will to slap another dragon around, mug them for what it was worth, and 'recruit' a goblin army for their own purposes.

The main reason why you hate manual labor was because of the specifics. Because you're doing all of this for a bunch of no-good, squabbling goblins that didn't praise the very ground that you walked on for providing their needs like a benevolent god.

…

Spite had no place in your little operation just yet. It was still relatively easy to shove those dark thoughts down, to lock it in someplace else that you could unleash once it was time to truly unload your draconic fury onto someone else that deserve it, and by goodness you can't complete that thought without dying just a little bit inside.

You're an adult now. A dragon that just razed his first village and did all sorts of stuff in the first week that they went out on their own. And an adult dragon certainly did not do the things that a juvenile did. Yuck.

Never mind the fact that you quite vividly remember your juvenile years, which was why you felt like you wanted to die in the first place.

In any case, you set down the last stack of lumber before you went off on your little investigation, a veritable stack of stripped logs ready to be sawed into planks by tens of little goblins. As per usual, a contemptuous look was emblazoned on your face during the entire thing, one that only grew stronger as you receive muttered thanks from the rest of the goblins as they got to work.

Muttered. Thanks. Where was the praise? Where was the adulation? Where were the offerings laid at your doorstep (as much as you had one) for your deep and boundless benevolence?

None. There was nothing. And you were sick of it.

Frankly, it was one of the reasons why you wanted to just get back to somewhere familiar. Somewhere where little mortals worshiped the ground that you walked on, where other dragons bowed at your extreme prowess in everything, and where you were acknowledge for– Ahem.

You were sick of these goblins. Yes, that was it. The only reason why you wanted to go back home. Or at least, what a dragon would call home before their lair was built.

With the last batch of lumber dumped in front of your little laborers, you turn your attention back towards the rest of the little settlement that the goblins were currently building. Most were hard at work digging out the place that would be your lair. Some were busy building more houses for the army, like what these lumber-goblins were doing. Others were cooking in giant pots, warding off any who tried to steal the food with their heavy ladles and pans.

Frankly, the smell of the food was… well, now you're craving for actual draconic food. Good thing that you're going back to your Grandmother's lair then, hm?

"Lahk!" You roar, causing all the goblins to stop their work and turn in your direction. Most bowed. Only a select few worshiped you the moment you spoke. You commit their faces to memory, before you continued speaking in… ugh, Goblin. "Ilkatt feruhs tol kehrat konn ter."

As orders go, it was simple. 'Keep doing what you're doing', but in a more elegant form in the goblins' language. Surely your little laborers couldn't screw this up, right? Right?

… You'll do a thorough check once you get back, just in case.

With your orders delivered, a flap of your wings sends you flying up in the air, shooting up in a straight line before an elegant roll bleeds off your momentum, and another surge of movement directs you towards your Grandmomma's lair.

The trip would take a… week by your estimates, the pleasantries would take another week, discussing the matter of dargs in your territory would take who-knows-how-long, then flying back would take another week. At the minimum, you'd be returning to the site of your lair in a month or so.

If those idiotic goblins burned it all down in that timeframe…

You let out a growl, some of your anger leaking into it. No one could hear you this high up and at this fast of a speed, which means that no one needed to die. All that was left is to make some minor course corrections, and just fly. You never truly slept anyway, which meant that you could keep on flying until you arrive at Grandmomma Kiryu's lair.

…

By all means, it was quite the boring trip. Not even a passing airship? Nor a magical beast that thought a dragon half-asleep would work to be a great roosting place or a meal? Nothing? Oh well. You'd certainly complain if all your journeys turned out to be the wrong kind of interesting, which means that you'll take all what you can get.

Now, where were you? Right. Grandmomma Kiryu's lair. It was built on a cliff overlooking the local sea, with a village of dwarves having carved out their village on the rocks that was mostly there for the additional manpower. After all, someone needed to do the bureaucracy, and good luck giving that task to any self-respecting dragon.

It would seem like paperwork was the one thing that all races hated. Which was nice, but there was no doubt that dragons hated paperwork the most.

You fly low, soaring past the dwarven village on the rocks (ha!), and wait for the bells to sound as you hit a thermal and began gliding upwards for another pass. By your second go at the village, a huge slab of stone had already been prepared for you, ridden with claw marks and scorches from some of the more… disreputable dragons that visited.

Truly, the joy of having competent lackeys. It was one of the reasons why you looked up to Grandmomma Kiryu, despite her… dealings in the so-called 'family business'.

With a flourish of your wings, you land perfectly on the slab of stone. A second later, part of the cliff face opens up with well-oiled dwarven mechanisms (you can smell the oil from here), and shows a bored-looking dragon with two wings and light blue scales. No crown, only about as big as a house…

A juvenile put on front desk duty. What did this one do to deserve such a fate? "Greetings honored dragon. May I ask you for your purpose in coming to the lair of the legendary dragon Kiryu?"

The greeting was canned. Which meant that this little juvenile had done this for more than a few times already. My oh my, were you curious about this particular dragon's tale. But alas, you had things to do. As much as you want to chat, your Grandmomma's dwarven lackets could only keep the mechanism open for so long (security measures apparently), and you were here on… official business.

Hm. That sounded good. It makes you feel like an adult dragon already.

Which you were.

Since you razed down that village about two weeks ago and all that.

Hm, options, options…

[] Chat up the juvenile dragon nonetheless. Lackeys were made to serve dragons, even if they were in your Grandmomma's employ. Besides, they were doing paperwork! No dragon in your Grandmomma's employ wanted to do anything with the damn thing, which means that whatever tale this one had was going to be glorious!

[] Blast a particularly innocent rock and proclaim that your purpose in coming here was yours alone. Quick, efficient, and that's what all the adult dragons said during the one time that you were stationed on front desk duty for… Heh, you'd rather not remember.

[x] As your Grandmomma's favorite grand-dragon (you've checked), you had a secret little something that you used in order to gain her immediate attention. Granted, it's probably outdated by decades, but there's no doubt that it would still work. And immediately grant you an audience with your Grandmomma immediately. Because frankly, you were here on a deadline.

[] Write-in.

Hm... Not a lot of votes today. Well, mystery box option is a go, hopefully you don't cause an aneurysm or something!

Dargon 2.1: Meeting


You are a dragon, and you are about to meet with one of your family members. One of the more recent ones of course, one of those still within the land of the living. One of the legendary dragons that commanded awe and fear in equal measure, one whose name was spoken in hushed whispers for fear of summoning her very attention.

One whose breath commanded domain over crystals, the Legendary Dragon Kiryu.

And you're calling for your dear Grandmomma's attention by… singing. Well, more like warbling, but it's singing. It's what you'd call it, it's what others should call it, and anyone who even had the temerity to mock you for it would be met with an unending gout of starfire.

The juvenile manning the front desk lets out a snort. You immediately reply by blasting her paperwork to dust, causing the other dragon to shriek as they began puffing on whatever paperwork remained, trying to put out the fire. But none can quench starfire. At least, as far as you remember.

Was it petty? Yes. Did it leave the juvenile with worse problem for them to solve? Definitely yes. Would it teach them to keep their opinions to themselves and ensure that they give the proper deference to their betters? Hopefully.

Not. You can't wait to see them on front desk and paperwork duty again. And next time, you'll have all the time in the world to torment them so.

For the meantime however, you were more focused on other, more important things. Like trying not to throw yourself towards the rocks down below for the sheer embarrassment of having to sing like that again. There was no doubt that you were the worst singer out of all the dragons in your family tree. There might be someone else who might have usurped your record during the last few decades since your last visit… but that just means you'll have to dethrone them once again.

With a deadly reminder that yes, you might suck at singing, but no one could be worse than you at that particular art. No one. That was a spot reserved for you, and you alone, and nobody else was going to change that.

Even if those jagged rocks look mighty tempting… Why did you agree to this little gesture again?

Right. Because Grandmomma Kiryu would recognize your singing anywhere within her hearing. Her words, not yours. You'd blast her with starfire for the backhanded compliment if you didn't like her so much.

"Mestina." An old, sagely voice echoes from within the depths of the cliff, causing the juvenile squawk and freeze. So that was their name, hm? You'll remember it. Just so the lesson sticks home, you grin in the juvenile's direction, causing them to shrink upon themselves in a frankly adorable manner. Well, for a dragon, that is. There was no doubt that a mortal would find things even more terrifying than before, given how the entire lair began to grind and groan as something in its depths began waking up. "Let them through. My office, immediately."

The juvenile nods towards the tunnel leading deeper into the lair, before turning towards you. This time, their voice was a lot more respectful, which did wonders for your relatively humble ego. "Y-You heard Momma. D-Do you know where her o-office is? S-Should I– Do I need to guide you to it?"

Wait, Momma? This was one of your aunts? And she was a juvenile? My, my, your Grandmomma had been busy these past few decades.

"That wouldn't be necessary, little one." You reply back, and by goodness was it nice to actually be using that statement, for once. "I've been here before."

And with that, you take off, a flap of your wings immediately sending you past the front desk and into the labyrinthine tunnels of your Grandmomma's lair.

Deep in this place, with dwarven lackeys mucking about alongside the other, more juvenile members of your family tree, familiar nostalgia takes root. You leave gusts in your wake as you speed through large tunnels more than big enough to house thousands of mortals, twisting and turning with natural grace even in the relatively narrow confines of your Grandmomma's lair.

Her 'office' is a place that you've visited before a couple of times in your juvenile years. Lounged in it even. It's a place where Grandmomma Kiryu managed her vast 'business enterprise', the surrounding landscape carved onto a scaled map that encompassed around the area of an entire village. You can't wait to see it again, especially once you carve out your own little territory on the map.

On the last leg of the short journey, you forgo flying, instead walking up to the intimidatingly large doors that led to your Grandmomma's office. Here, some of your Grandmomma's fine livery was on display – painstakingly woven carpet twisted underneath your feet, some of its threads fraying by the sheer force with each step. Golden links forming curtains inlaid with precious stones, drooping down from carved stone pillars and mixed with rich red drapes and purple velvet.

It's… well. You've never been to your Grandmomma's office from the front. It was always on some escape route or another hidden entrance, but approaching here, as the great doors carved from solid rock began opening up?

You can't help but feel just the slightest bit intimidated.

"Ah, my favorite grand-dragon returns."

Smoke bellows out from the opening between the doors, and you quickly bring up an arm over your nostrils to keep yourself from inhaling in the fumes. You loved your Grandmomma – truly, you did – but there were a few habits of hers that you despised. This was one of them. "Oh, I can already see you covering your snout from here. Relax, you big baby – I'm not smoking any dargs as of the moment. The smoke's nothing more than set dressing."

With a scowl, you uncover one nostril. When you didn't feel the effects of the dargs a second later, you finally put your arm down and went through the doorway into the now-open office, finding your Grandmomma laid out on one of her dwarven-crafted sofas.

Crystalline scales glitter in the soft light of glowing blue orbs, piercing ruby eyes turning straight towards you even through the smoky haze of your Grandmomma's office. Massive arms the size of a townhouse shift, the magically-treated wood of her sofa groaning under the weight, and there is no doubt that all of this was for presentation.

You ignore the walls painstakingly paneled with wood from outside the lair. You ignore the crystalline chandeliers as big as houses, casting soft blue light on their domain. You ignore the vast tapestries of history draped over the walls, outlining thousands of years of history and the draconic family that she has fostered, all tailored in golden thread. You even ignore the vast table and the scale map of her lair's surroundings, carved out by her dwarven minions over the period of decades.

There is only the Legendary Dragon Kiryu, and for the first time since you hatched out of your shell, you can't help but fear your Grandmomma–

"My little warbly-magic, come hug your grandmomma! It's been two decades and eight years since you last came by!"

–Then she does something like this.

With a sigh and a droop of your shoulders, you step forward and…

[x] … hug your Grandmomma. Maybe she's guilting you into it, but it had been twenty-eight years since you had last seen her, too busy looking for a territory that you could call your own. You could probably regale her with your own adventures, then slowly segway into the issue of dargs in your territory. Hopefully.

[] … raise your head, and calmly state your intentions for the visit. Granted, your Grandmomma would probably ignore whatever you were saying and demand that you give her a hug anyway, but you came in through the front door of her office, which means that there was a certain expectation that you had to be professional.

[] … turn on a dime, and walk right back out the door. It's probably spitting in your Grandmomma's face, but… well, nerves were a thing. You'll probably just pop back into her office using one of the other entrances a few moments later anyway. After that, you'll catch up with Grandmomma Kiryu just like the old days.

[] Write-in.

... And an overwhelming vote for hugging Grandmomma Kiryu. Somehow, I'm not surprised.

Dragons you may be, but you still take care of your family.

Any and all future references to the Fast and Furious franchise is disavowed from this post onwards.

Dargon 2.2: Greetings


You are a dragon, and despite the many, many flaws that you have, there is one that you refuse to change. You have family, and despite their many, many idiosyncrasies… they're worth your last gout of starfire.

Even if your Grandmomma wanted a hug the first time you return to your lair.

"Oh, you've grown so much! Is your crest taller than before? Your crown's much more set as well!" A warble escapes from the depths of your throat. You weren't singing. It was nothing more than the sound of a dragon walking towards their doom, of walking towards a trap that they have no choice but to go through. "My oh my, did you find another dragon that you could shack up with? When am I going to expect great-grand-dragons, hm?"

"Not anytime soon." You growl back, letting out a wordless whimper as your Grandmomma's arms grab your snout, forcefully turning your head to face her and ow, ow, ow, her strength's peeling off some of your scales!

"This problem must be rectified post-haste." It didn't need to be. You were perfectly fine with being a single dragon for one… two centuries, damn it! And you were certainly charming enough that anyone would be willing to mate with you if you just brought the topic up. It was obvious that you were not making up any kind of excuses given the scary glint in your Grandmomma's ruby eyes. "Hm… Well, I have a problematic daughter that I want to take off my hands…"

Ahahaha, no. "I'm fine with being on my own for a while, Grandmomma. Still building my lair and all that."

Grandmomma Kiryu gasps, reeling back and thankfully pushing you away from the crushing hug that she had just pulled you into. You take a few steps back, shaking everything from your snout to your tail, but the phantom pain of being squeezed still remains with you. Next time, you're not going for a hug. Your Grandmomma would have to force you into it.

… Hopefully she doesn't force you into it.

"My word? You're still building a lair after almost three decades?!" Your Grandmomma roared, rising up from her sofa and causing some of her clothes to fall off. Oh, they were nothing more than long stretches of tapestry that she puts on just for show, but those cost more than smaller mortal kingdoms, and she's just leaving it on the floor for dust to gather on them? Truly, there were better distractions to be had to avoid your Grandmomma's disappointment. "Who was it, my little warbly-magic? Who stopped you from claiming your territory as was your birthright?!"

Bad news, your Grandmomma was angry. That meant landscapes burned under her wrath, and her bodycount would rise by the thousands as she slaughters hapless mortal after hapless mortal until her rage recedes. The good news is that your Grandmomma wasn't angry at you. A bit heartwarming that she immediately jumped to the conclusion that someone else was responsible for your current state.

Frankly, despite the… colorful personalities that you met before you burned that village to the ground, you really, really don't want to wish the wrath of Grandmomma Kiryu on them. No one deserves that. As far as you observed.

"No one." You lied. Sort of. "My initial years were taken by wanderlust, grandmomma. There was a whole world to explore outside the lair – I spent some years just flying through the world, taking it all in."

It was true. Once again, sort of. You spent your first few years outside of your Grandmomma's lair merely traveling around, seeing the sights of the world. The large sword construct that stuck out of the Vimanos Sea was certainly one of the highlights, especially once you found out that there was a thriving civilization of automatons dedicated to maintaining its finish. It was a wonder of the world, and certainly not something that you'd wish to dirty by putting your grubby claws on it.

Not to mention the fact that some of those automatons spat starfire at you when you tried to take a closer look. What had their builders done in order to give those machines starfire? It was quite the question that lingered in your mind back then, as you raided borrowed some tomes from some of the archives nearby to try and piece things together.

You never really did piece things together.

…

Maybe you'd have to put that on the list.

Anyway! The point was that you spent around… what, two decades wandering around the world? It's certainly not enough time to see most of its wonders, but it was long enough that you've got a pretty good idea of where everything was near your Grandmomma's lair. Still, having a good idea of the land's geography certainly didn't prepare you for the political structure of… everything, really.

Draconic politics. While they were refreshingly direct after the first few minutes, it was certainly one of the worst that you've seen so far. Not that the mortals were any better.

Six years you searched for a plot of land to call your own, fighting with breath and claw against some of the more idiotic dragons that you've met and spitting upon the pity that the other dragons gave. You were going to carve out your territory with your own breath and claw, pity and arrogance of others be damned.

Not like you can say that to your Grandmomma though. This was… something more personal. And why a little white lie wouldn't hurt.

And naturally, to keep her from seeing past your first lie, you push forward and don't give her any quarter. "Now, I just got done burning down my first village around… three weeks ago? Yes. Three weeks ago if I remember correctly. Oh Grandmomma, you should've seen the look on their faces when I swooped and, saw that their weapons did nothing, and my starfire slagged through their stone walls like they weren't even there–"

"Did you kill those who tried to swear revenge on you?"

"Of course!"

"Good."

You try not to preen at praise. Really, you did. You were just… adjusting your posture, is all. To tell a better story. Yes, that was what you were sticking with.

And speaking of stories, this was your chance to embellish some of them. Well… not much. Maybe just a little bit. You certainly didn't want to be spoiled by your Grandmomma, especially given that her feasts were big enough to knock out a dragon twice your size. And you didn't want more praises. And assurances that you're the best grand-dragon that she's ever had.

Promise.

But still, how much embellishment would you add to your stories?

[x] None. Better brownie points with Grandmomma Kiryu, and if she tries to poke holes in it, she'll find nothing. Leading to more brownie points. Goodness, this might even lead into a feast!

[] Just a little bit. Because honestly, you need to cover up your little ah, mishaps in claiming your own territory, and this is the perfect opportunity to do so. Everyone does it anyway! At least, as far as you can see.

[] As much as you can get away with. You knew your Grandmomma well, and what she wants is a fun story, if not an entirely truthful one. And honestly, your exploits are… well, your methodology is quite a little boring.

Post up in a few hours! Damn, this was quite the turnout.

Dargon 2.3: Negotiations


You are a dragon. Not an orator. But you can certainly try for your Grandmomma, even if you're sure that you'll muck it up in one way or another. And fibbing some parts of it would only make her suspicious, and by goodness you're hungry. You haven't eaten in… what, about a month or two now? Maybe, just maybe, you'll get a feast during your stay here.

Hey, you can dream. "… And that is when I lead an army of goblins back to my territory. Quick, easy, and relatively bloodless. I'm now awaiting for the inevitable goblin rebellion when I get back."

"Oh, is that so?" Your Grandmomma hums, grinning at you and showing off her house-sized teeth. "Perfect for living in tunnels, with an easily exploitable sense of devotion and a penchant for crafting and technology? Are you sure you aren't trying to copy your dear Grandmomma's own success, my little warbly-magic?"

…

Now that she mentioned it, dwarves and goblins have surprising amounts of characteristics in common. "Huh."

"Great minds do think alike. Do not worry my little warbly-magic–" Ugh, you hated that nickname, "–I won't file any copyright infringement. Besides, I'm sure you can tell the truth. It's just the two of us here."

"I did?" You ask, mostly out of confusion. "Well, I'm sure that anyone who heard that tale would automatically assume that it was too far-fetched, but–"

"'Reality is often more stranger than whatever fiction minds can conjure', I know, I know. Konnto always liked saying that. It's good to see that you're putting her teachings to good use." Hm, yes. Those were your mother's words, weren't they? Back a… century ago, when she balancing raising you and keeping her archive running. Hm, maybe you'll pay a visit to her as well on your way back. "Still, you swear on your starfire that it was what happened?"

"I do." Because it truly was what happened. "I'm… a bit surprised that you're taking this with a grain of salt, Grandmomma."

"That's because stupid idiotic dragons who go around acting like knights don't usually bow down after getting smacked around by their betters." Your grandmomma speaks, her arm once again grasping your neck as she begins patting you down from head to toe, searching for injuries. It's not like you can escape, given that she all but dragged you into her sofa and all but ensured that you were wrapped around by her bulk. But how the hell is the sofa still standing? Perhaps you could ah, get some of the dwarven craftsmen who worked on this to join your burgeoning lair… "They plot. They plan. They counter. We are better because we roar our scheming ways to the world. Those scum hide it behind their veneer of 'morality'. Did they truly just give you one of the treasures in their lair for free? Maybe I should check it for traps of some sort. You never know when it comes to those so-called 'lawbringers'."

Oh, finally. You wondered how long the pleasantries needed to be done before you could finally get to what you came here for. "About that…"

You reach through the impromptu rigging that you lashed to yourself, pulling out the waterskin that you had gotten from the other dragon (the one that wasn't manning your Grandmomma's front desk, anyway). It settles down in a thump in front of your grandmother, and the elder dragon quickly uncoils from her previously relaxed position, raising a claw… and bringing it down a second later.

Dargs spill out from the waterskin, and you immediately put a hand over your snout as your Grandmomma frowns and beckons a claw, causing some of the crystals to be pulled towards her. She narrows her eyes as she brings up the crystals to the light, sniffing a little and even tasting the damnable things…

"These are dargs."

"It's what I was originally here to talk about, Grandmomma." You begin, taking a deep breath as you you rise from the comfortable sofa and pad over towards her, "I found this in the other dragon's lair. They say that some of the villagers that are under their aegis have been smuggling these dargs in from other nearby mortal settlements."

"And you believe them?"

"I humiliated them. Conquered them. That means that their territory is added to my own, and I could just boot them out whenever I grow tired of their antics." You reply back, much to the approval of your Grandmomma. Or at least, you hope that was what she meant with the chuckle that she made. "This means that as much as I don't want to say it out loud…"

"You want whoever is distributing these dargs shut down before they become a problem in your territory." Your Grandmomma fills in, walking over towards her village-sized map before grasping its edges and rising up to her full height. "Quite a problem."

As much as it was taught to you (by your Momma and Grandmomma no less!) that you shouldn't show weakness, you can't help but be intimidated nonetheless. Who were you to just barge into your Grandmomma's lair and demand kindly ask for her to stop the distribution of the main way that she gathers her riches?

This was the 'family business' after all, even if you found it distasteful. And you were all but asking the one that built it all up to begin with to tear a part of it down.

"My little warbly-magic, I'm not mad." She… wasn't? "The fact that you came here as soon as you can to inform me of this occurrence is good enough, and speaks of your ability to handle these types of situations. No doubt that I would be quite cross if an unknown dragon burned down one of my distribution centers for dargs. Even angrier if I found out that it was my favorite grand-dragon that did it."

She turns to grin at you, her ruby eyes flickering with just the slightest hints of malice. You gulp, and a small, hidden part of you pipes up and confirms that yes, you had just dodged a ballista bolt. Or a magical blast. Or a draconic claw, or a point-blank breath, or… Well, the point was made.

"Now, where's your territory located?"

Your eyes widen. You scramble forward on the scale map, eyes gazing past landmarks with a practiced eye as you begin tapping a claw over familiar sights that you saw over your journey. A river delta here, some mountain ranges over there, a mortal city over this particular area… Information from your memories continues to pile on as you begin to claw out your territory (literally!).

The Underground Goblin City of Laksuhl? Yours. The village of Arnias where the other dragon was busy with grooming their 'child of prophecy'? Yours. On and on, your claw carved through mountains, valleys, plains, forests, and eventually ending right back where you first started.

Laughably small, compared to some of the other territories that you've seen on the scale map. But those wouldn't matter once you're finished with your lair. If you're going to be finished with that lair.

As much as you love your Grandmomma, you certainly don't like the glint in her eyes as she raises her voice to address you. "Near Eudora, then. Certainly easily fixed, but it would take some time for the message to be rammed down the skulls of the mortal populace. I'm going to need your help for that."

Your shoulders slump. Saying no was out of the question, by this point. "What do you want me to do, Grandmomma?"

"This far out from my lair, most of the business is done through proxies. Mortal proxies." She grins. "You're going to have to get some of your own. Fight a hidden war to ensure that any and all production and distribution of dargs in the area are destroyed. On my end, I'll tell them that Eudora would not be receiving any support from the rest of our little family business, but that leaves the majority of the operation up to you."

"I just started carving out my own lair." You whined, "Now you're just dumping this in my lap?"

"You're the one that wanted these dargs out of your territory." Your Grandmomma counters, "That means that the initiative falls on you. If you're too lazy to get things done, then those mortal proxies would just keep on chugging along with nothing to stop them save for a drop in supply. Besides, think of it as a… test. You'll be taking over the family business eventually, which means that I need to see how you manage territories. I have high hopes for you, my little warbly-magic. Hopefully, you don't disappoint."

Despite your best efforts, a horrified whimper escapes from your throat at the task that your Grandmomma forced onto you. Bad enough that you're going to face some sort of sedition from the goblins that you 'recruited' the moment you come back to your soon-to-be lair, but this?

This was large enough that you want nothing more than to go to a corner and whimper for a few days.

"I'll make you a feast before you have to return."

…

Sold.

Now all that's left is to feast, sleep, and plan a course on how you'll get back to your territory...

[You can take multiple options. Taking more options will definitely lead to those goblins having more time to prepare for your return. Whether or not this is a good or a bad thing remains to be seen.]

[x] Visit your Momma. Unlike your Grandmomma, you haven't seen your Momma for half a century now. Maybe it's time to change that… and hopefully, you can get her to take a bath. Living in a musty archives is not good for hygiene.

[] Fly along some world wonders. You've got time. Time to think, time to plan… time to spend flying about some of the wonders of the world that you've seen the past few decades. Granted, if you want to get back in time, then you're just going to have to stick to the titanic sword sticking out of the ground.

[] Scout out some ruins within your territory. They would've made for a great lair… if you're a mortal. Sadly, your draconic size makes that quite a bit of an issue. But there's certainly some little trinkets that you might find if you looked around enough. They might even be good enough to be put in your lair.