Ten. Minutes.
That’s how long the walk from the mine to the administration building is.
Ten minutes of ash, uneven terrain, and scattered construction workers waving at their Demon Lord with half-eaten sandwiches in their claws.
Lucien strides at the front of the group with his usual swagger, flanked by Serenith and Ignara. Behind him trail X’zelle, Alexel, and the ever-loyal chaos twins. At the very back, lagging and muttering curses into the wind, is Valgereth, the great and terrifying dragon in his new humanoid form.
And he was not doing well.
Smoke puffs from his nostrils with every step. His perfect suit, once crisp and regal, now looks crumpled. He stumbles every third step and mutters dramatic complaints between gasps.
"Is it just me," Veyra whispers as she matches pace with him, "or are you, like... dying?"
Val lets out a long, wheezy groan. "I’m not a morning person."
"It’s... past noon."
He hisses at her, horns twitching. "Days are meaningless when you’ve spent centuries sleeping in a mountain. The next decade is basically morning to me."
They finally reach the main admin building where a few succubi workers greet them with bows and shy smiles as Lucien pushes open the doors and everyone files inside.
Valgereth drags himself to the first available chair and collapses onto it, flinging his legs over the armrest and slumping like a teenager at war with the world.
Lucien raises an eyebrow. "You alright there, Val?"
Val makes a low rumbling sound, snaps his fingers, and summons a thick shadow-stitched blanket that he promptly throws over himself. Only the tips of his horns poke through.
"This is my cave now. Leave me."
Lucien snorts and turns back to the others. "We’ll let the drama king take a nap. Council, updates?"
Ignara steps forward, flipping open her enchanted ledger. "Finances first. Before Val’s generous donation, we were about three days from a complete operational standstill. Wages, supply routes, and spell barriers were all bleeding us dry. That hoard dump bought us maybe two, three weeks... if we’re stingy."
Lucien frowns. "Stingy is my middle name."
"Your middle name is Ego, actually," Ignara deadpans.
"Harsh, but fair. Continue."
X’zelle nods grimly, her spider limbs clicking in agreement. "The taverns have been doing well, but we were at critical levels. We’ll need to increase imports, but current channels are... bottlenecked by red tape."
"Yup," Lucien groans. "Securing reliable trade routes has been a bitch. I’ll look into it personally. Next!"
Alexel adjusts his glasses. "Construction is proceeding well. Two more towns are nearly at phase two completion. We’ve begun prep work on three additional sites. If recruitment stays steady and supply lines hold, we’ll have thirty percent of the Ash Waste converted within the next three to five months."
"That’s faster than expected." Lucien grins. "Excellent work, Lex."
Alexel grins. "We found a squad of displaced orc masons and paid them in beer and lap dances. They’ve never been happier."
"...I’m so proud." Lucien blinks, "Veyra?"
She straightens nervously. "I, uh, haven’t had time to get updates from my subordinates... I’ve been... with you, my Lord."
Lucien gives her a soft smile. "Of course. Go freshen up, get your reports, and dinner’s on me tonight. Full feast for everyone. Bring your appetites."
From beneath the blanket, Val’s muffled voice echoes out. "Did someone say feast?"
The blanket peels back, revealing a single glowing crimson eye.
"Yes, in your honor."
Val sits upright, cracking his neck with a dramatic stretch. "I eat a lot. I expect at least three Ashland cows. And a few plump slaves for dessert."
Lucien winces. "We’re, uh... a little low on slaves. But I’m sure the chefs will come up with something."
Val crosses his arms. "You better. I didn’t sign up for a kingdom of snacks and stale wine."
"Noted." Lucien replies with a roll of his eyes, "We’ll add ’dragon food budget’ to the expenses."
"He’s going to eat through all our profits, isn’t he?" Ignara mutters from behind her ledger.
"Probably," adds Vex, giggling.
Everyone laughs, including Valgereth.
Then Val’s hand slams on the table, cracking it.
"I’m not joking, though." He snarls, "I eat. A lot."
The laughter dies instantly as Val leans forward, eyes glowing. "I’ve been eating rocks for centuries. If I’m going to help build this kingdom, I expect real food. Hot, juicy, well-spiced. With gravy. Lots of gravy."
Lucien holds up both hands. "Alright, alright. We’ll put together a feast that’ll make your old dragon heart flutter."
Later that night, a long banquet table stands outside under the moonlight, surrounded by flickering lanterns enchanted with warm firelight. The smells of roasted meat, spiced bread, honeyed roots, and wine hang in the air like a spell.
Lucien sits at the head of the table, goblet in hand, grinning like a man who’s just pulled off a miracle.
Around him sit his high council. Ignara nursing a mug of molten ale, X’zelle daintily slicing glowing fruit, the chaos twins already tipsy and fighting over a leg of something unidentifiable and Alexel scrolling through a crystal tablet.
Veyra sits near the end, glowing with contentment, and Serenith hovers just above the table, occasionally flicking bits of ash off her robes in mild disgust.
Valgereth sits in the middle, eating like an absolute monster.
He devours everything.
Forks? Unnecessary.
Napkins? Beneath him.
Plates? Eaten.
Shadow tendrils extend from his back, grabbing entire platters from across the table. Multiple meals fold into his mouth at alarming speed.
Chicken bones crunch. Breads disappear. A full roast ox vanishes with a gulp. Someone passes him a bucket of buttered rolls, and he drinks it like soup.
The others have barely even touched their wine.
By the time Vex reaches for her second slice of roasted lizard tail, the table is clean. Completely stripped of food.
Val slumps back in his chair, buttons popping from his stretched vest, a satisfied grin on his lips.
"That was... three hours of prep." Lucien blinks.
Val gives him a thumbs up. "It was... satisfactory. More gravy next time."
"More?" Serenith asks as she hovers closer. "You consumed twelve entire dishes in under five minutes."
"He’s going to bankrupt us before the next moon." Ignara groans.
X’zelle stares at her empty plate and pouts. "I just sliced that... perfectly."
But only Val shrugs in response, already eyes half-lidded.
"Call it a tax." He says, snickering.
Everyone cackles with laughter across the table before Val slaps it, rattling the cutlery.
"But seriously." he says, eyes narrowed, "I’ve waited centuries for real food. You people better keep me fed. Well fed."
"That’s a promise." Lucien replies as he raises his goblet.
Val’s smirk returns. "Good. Because if I go hungry, I start hunting."
Veyra whimpers.
Vex, half-drunk, throws her arms around Lucien. "We’re gonna need a dragon feeding fund."
"I’ll start a Go-Fund-A-Beast," says Ignara, raising her mug.
"Or a feed-the-walking-furnace charity," mumbles Vile.
Lucien stands and raises his cup high. "To our glorious team! To rebuilding an empire! To feeding dragons! To..."
He pauses, looking at Valgereth, who’s gently patting his stretched belly.
"...actually keeping up with this bottomless pit of hellfire."
Val raises a single brow. "You forgot one thing."
Lucien sighs. "What’s that?"
"To profit." Val grins, sharp and wide.
Everyone shouts in agreement.
"TO PROFIT!"
The night air rings with laughter, firelight, and the occasional shadowy belch from a well fed dragon.