Chapter 1
"For you were a creature of greed and vice, chasing your comfort at the cost of others, do I curse you! For your worship of earthly luxuries and possessions, do I bring you back as the beast you truly are!"
These were last words I heard from that pompous bastard, Being X, as Tanya Degurechaff, before a blinding flash took my vision and consciousness.
Next time I opened my eyes, I found myself as a child again. But instead of a human baby, I was born as a female whelp in a litter of white dragons. And of course, because Being X couldn't be content just with reincarnating me as a lizard, he decided to make me an off-colored runt.
Namely, I was half the size of my other brothers and sisters, and my scales, instead of normal white, designed to blend in with the snowy environment my kind seemed to prefer, were shining silver.
Keeping in mind my disadvantages, I quickly realized that staying in my parents' nest would lead to a swift demise, either eaten by one of my siblings or starved to death. Apparently dragons, despite being a fully sapient species, practiced a particularly brutal and cutthroat form of meritocracy, similar to what I once saw pelicans do watching some nature documentary.
The parents simply brought food and watched for predators, wholly unconcerned whether every child actually ate, preferring to not waste energy and effort on children too weak or small to compete for it. When my biggest sister made an attempt to eat me, my father simply stared on, completely dismissing my pleading squeaks and frantic dodges. After that I made an executive decision to leave the nest come spring.
---
Albredia sniffed the air, her magic-enhanced sense of smell picking up a myriad of scents both new and old. After a week of unsuccesful searching, the trace of the runaway whelp was however, too faint to follow.
She was begrudgingly impressed. White dragons may not be the most gifted mages among dragon-kind, but their oversized mana channels in eyes, ears and nostrils enhanced their senses into unparalleled sensitivity. That a four months old whelp, never mind a silver one, managed to evade her, irked her pride as a hunter.
Which was the only reason the search continued as long as it did. That, and her partner.
"Did you manage to pick up anything?"
"No, Merilnor, I did not. And I'm not sure why I even bothered looking for her at all, never mind as long as I did."
"We talked about this already Alb. She might not be our child, not really, but she still has a right to live."
"I also remembered us talking about how inexperienced you are. Silver dragons are parasites, using illusions to force others to care for their children."
"Alb..."
"Don't Alb me, Merilnor. I should have killed her on the spot. Never mind raising a child of a silver dragon, taking care of one of an incompetent, incapable of even properly spinning the magics their wretched kind relies on to survive, is just insulting. That's the only reason we even know she wasn't one of ours. An illusion, improperly layered on the egg, failing to transfer and hide her true nature when she was born."
"But she looked so tiny and defenseless! And Merissa loved playing with her so much..."
Albredia exhaled in a show of exasperation. She couldn't really be mad, or say no, to Merilnor and his beautiful crest. Even if, unlike her, he was new to parenting. He has yet to learn that naming whelps should wait until third year, when it became clear which children pulled through. It somewhat lessened the pain of losing them.
At least he had the common sense to get attached to the biggest, healthiest female of the clutch.
As for the silver runt, she probably already starved to death. Albredia wouldn't mourn the brat, her distaste for silver dragons overpowering any empathy she might feel.
That, and Albredia was unnerved by her. There was far too much cold, calculating intelligence in those blue eyes. She had nightmares about waking up, her children's throats gnawed open, and the little failed impostor nowhere to be found.
---
Predators were inherently creatures of cost/benefit driven logic. They had to balance their energy expenditure in regards to their ability to acquire proper prey. The five years I spent alone traveling and hunting showed me that not every animal was worth pursuing, especially if their meat's energy value didn't compensate for the calories spent. My inexperience as a hunter, not to mention the eye-catching color of my scales, meant I spent all this time in near perpetual starvation, seeking carrion like a vulture.
Additionally, the lack of food stifled my growth, further adding to my already diminutive size.
"This isn't how it was supposed to be!" I was a modern man! One, who thanks to scientific and cultural advancements, wasn't supposed to concern himself with acquiring food beyond what was on sale at the supermarket. And here I was, nibbling on the bones of some corpse like an animal! I promised myself that, should I meet Being X, I will repay this indignity tenfold.
The only silver lining to my current circumstances was that I fianlly managed to leave behind the frozen mountain ridges and plains in favor of temperate forests. The fact that the ground wasn't perpetually hard and frozen here allowed to camouflage myself using mud and lichen.
The camouflage was essential. Even with starvation enhanced dwarfism, I was, discounting my tail which made up nearly half my body length, the size of an adult grizzly bear. Trying to hunt looking like a pile of polished silverware would be an insurmountable challenge.
A challenge that soon will become of much lesser concern. I felt it, growing over the years, the familiar sensation of power crawling beneath my skin. One that every aerial mage would be quick to identify.
Magic was real in this world, and soon I will have large enough mana reserves to use it in a meaningful way. Nothing compared to what I was used to as Tanya Degurechaff, but certainly enough to run basic illusions and enhancements.
It stood to reason. Both my parents were larger than any commercial airliners, yet moved through the air with grace more befitting an elite Imperial mage. Even considering the fact that the membrane between my, and presumably every dragon's, wings naturally conducted magic required for flight formula with ease comparable to Type 97, the forces exerted upon such a massive body spoke volumes about the power and mana reserves of adult dragons.
Of course such feats were squarely out of my reach. Unlike the average individual I used to be, here I was the bottom of the barrel. I will consider myself lucky if I manage to fly with speeds exceeding 30 miles an hour. Not that I planned to, after all, if dragons were real, the only logical conclusion was that other supernatural predators did too. Presenting them with an easy to spot target would be the height of foolishness.
---
When a kobold pictured might, they never imagined another kobold. They thought of a powerful fiend, a fearsome razormaw, or a majestic dragon.
Even so, Hik saw himself as quite mighty, or at least as close to mighty as any kobold could get. He dug out his own burrow, caught his own food, and unlike so many fools in the village, actually knew how to fight something bigger than a muskrat.
Granted, he never saw a dragon, and the few razormaws and fiends Hik had observed were from large distances, far enough he could pretend to crush them between his fingers. Still, they couldn't be much scarier than an angry terrorbeak.
He proved himself very wrong when, travelling through his usual hunting grounds, Hik heard roars of an unfamiliar beast. Hoping of finding either an easy prey, an entertaining showing between two monsters, or both, he decided to investigate.
Instead he found an angry dragon. Not a green one, like the elders insisted all dragons were, but one the color of shiny silver metal. Hik alternated between gawking and trying not to piss himself, in awe of the power emanating for the creature's every move.
The beast was big, as large as an adult auroch bull, double that if counting the monster's tail.
It tore the surrounding trees to splinters, strange blades of light extending from the dragon's already huge claws, all while roaring to high heavens, no doubt trying to prove who's the boss around these parts.
Hik saw fiends do something similar before. They scratched a tree, then pissed on it to mark it as their territory. The dragon, apparently favoring an open challenge over a pissing match, decided to simply announce itself to the world at large, hoping to scare everyone, and beat the shit out of anything that didn't get the message and tried to silence it.
That was a problem. Normally, Hik wouldn't care, but the beast decided to make itself cozy in the middle of his hunting grounds. He couldn't relocate, other nearby territories were already taken, either by fiends, razormaw packs, or other kobolds.
Well, unlike the aforementioned three, elders said that dragons were supposed to be smart. Maybe a proper tribute would convince this one to not bother him.
He'd have to ask shaman Obok, even if the know-it-all sack of bones infuriated him to no end.
---
Maslow's pyramid accurately represented human needs, not as organisms, but as fully sentient beings capable of self-determination. It serves as a guideline, allowing an individual to aim for contentment, even happiness regardless of environment.
In my first life, I had the fortune to be born into a modern, scientifically advanced society, with caring parents.
Thus, base demands such as food, security and sense of belonging met, I was free to pursue my higher needs. And while I never managed to achieve anything warranting recognition, I fulfilled my needs for esteem and self-actualization through being a respectable, albeit unremarkable, member of society. Even as Tanya Degurechaff I had a reliable source of food, if one forgave it's quality.
Now, even with magic enhanced senses allowing me to find food much more reliably, I still often went to sleep hungry. A growing body of my size, nevermind a magical one, requires a staggering amount of calories.
I once managed to kill a giant mammal, a bizarre combination of a prehistoric megasloth crossed with porcupine and pangolin. Considering my size, it's body, weighting over 600 kilograms, should have lasted me over three weeks. I managed to exhaust my stockpile in half that time. At least, thanks to magic, I was able to keep it frozen and fresh, and consume it cooked.
Satisfying my other needs presented an equal, or even greater, challange.
I dug a burrow hidden with carefully placed stones, dirt and bushes to cater to security my mind and instincts demanded. Anything beyond that, from even the most brief of contacts with another sapient being, to such lofty goals as self fulfillment, was beyond my reach. The only form of stimulation available to me was taking out my frustration on nearby trees while cursing the name of Being X.
Lost in thought, I nearly managed to miss the sound of snapping dry twigs, which I laid as an early warning system for my 'lair'. Carefully peeking through the entrance, I managed to spot a small, gray humanoid form hastily retreating from my territory. Before the entrance, on a stone plate laid an unevenly cooked roast of terror bird native to this forest.
---
The level of civilization's not only scientific, but social advancement, was best measured in the quality of amenities available to the general populace. As society progressed and new technologies were introduced, refining the manufacturing process, the grade and uniformity of everyday utilities, such as cutlery, increased. Examining the plate on which the roast gifted to me was presented, I could deduce that the creature that left it behind was of society that progressed enough to produce metal tools.
The stone dish was polished, too even in its shape to be of Neolithic make. A simple, symmetrical etching pattern shown a level of precision only available to an experienced craftsman using tools more advanced than a sharpened rock.
The intent behind the gifted meat itself, however, eluded me.
Was it a declaration of friendship, war, or simply an attempt to poison me? Channeling mana through my nose, I sniffed the meat, smelling nothing more than burnt flesh. So, unless they used an odorless poison, I could rule out an assassination attempt.
Consuming the 'offering' would still be the height of carelessness. Disregarding its unknown source, there was a cultural context to consider.
During my first life I was an avid student of history. It was an intellectually stimulating pastime, one that lent itself to many truths regarding how different societal norms can shape both civilizations and individuals alike. There, I learned how different cultures used food as a facet of diplomacy, voicing either their favor or displeasure through the choice of culinary fare.
Here, I lacked in context and points of reference. For all I knew, consuming this could mean accepting a declaration of war. Or it could be the complete opposite, and not taking the gift was a cultural taboo, one I had no way of knowing about.
In the end, the safest choice was to bury the roast underground, away from prying eyes. This way I could pretend to have eaten it, and should locals take an exception to that, dig it out, arguing that I never accepted it. Whatever goals regarding me these creatures had, it was unlikely to be their last attempt at contact.
---
Obok didn't like Hik, and refused to bother to hide it. Bastard was cocky, selfish and condescending, refusing to share his quarries with the rest of the village, and belittling anyone who asked. Truly, he would be far greater boon to the tribe if one rolled him in dung and used as a fiend decoy.
So when he came to the old shaman, asking what to gift a dragon to make it, to quote, 'not bother me while I'm hunting', Obok's advice was to find the largest terrorbeak he could and present it as a roast.
He hoped that the bird would kill him, and rid the village of a nuisance. Sadly, for all his self-absorbed nature, Hik was an exceptional hunter, returning with a remarkable trophy the next day.
Of course, the shaman never even considered taking the lout's claim about a dragon, especially a silver one, seriously. Most likely, the muscle-bound cretin spent his time in the forest licking mushrooms instead of hunting.
When the good-for-nothing returned, claiming that the dragon sniffed the food suspiciously and then took it somewhere, Obok openly dismissed him.
Hik, seemingly unable to accept his tall tale being brushed off, challenged the elder to follow the hunter and 'find out for himself'. While unwilling at first, the prospect of watching as Hik sputtered in confusion, trying to justify his hallucinations, ultimately made Obok accompany him.
"We have been wandering around for quite some time, young one, haven't we? Soon, we will be forced to abort this quest, my position as the shaman requires me at the village."
"Of course, 'esteemed elder'. Finding the lizard's lair is surprisingly tricky. Unlike its little tantrum spot, the lair itself lacks any convenient marks. But if your age-weakened body requires we turn back, so be it."
That little upstart... Obok was a shaman, the magic reinforcing his body enough to break Hik in half twice over. Even with such obvious goading, he could not let this insult slide. They will continue the spurious search, and the whelp will return humbled by the experience. This was for the good of the village.
---
As was suspected, the yesterday's presumably diplomatic mission was not a one-off affair.
I managed to spot a pair of the gray humanoids while looking for prey, hiding myself with the combination of mud, moss and illusions, hoping to divine the purpose of their journey into my hunting grounds. Under no circumstance could I allow myself contact with another unknown, not to mention non-human, culture while lacking intelligence and understanding of their social norms.
The creatures were strange. I wasn't an avid fan of fantasy, preferring historical settings, but even to me their body plan was somewhat familiar, if distorted by additional features.
They had large, floppy ears, somewhat oversized heads, short, almost vestigial tails and flattened, yet unmistakably reptilian faces. To an outside observer such as myself, they looked like a cross between a goblin and a small dragon.
Both of them were also considerably angry, hissing to each other in what was probably their native tongue. I couldn't trust my knowledge about human mimicry and body language to translate properly, instead counting on my enhanced sense of smell coupled with this body's instincts to properly indentify the strange pheromone emanating from both individuals.
I still had no clue about the nature of this envoy. The chances of them being simple travelers were next to non-existent. They circled around, swiveling their heads in obvious search of something.
Equally unlikely was them being a diplomatic delegation. Any culture that gave gifts as first contact would logically follow with more offerings in order to beneficially predispose the other party towards them, preferably arriving with an escort hand-picked to either intimidate or inspire awe.
Angry, alone and obviously seeking something in my territory. That only left one option.
In all likelihood, this was a scouting party, searching for my hideout to ambush me with their comrades as soon as I went to sleep. If I had to guess, the food I received yesterday contained an odorless deliberating agent, one that if not outright killing me, would hamper my efforts to either retaliate or escape when they came. Considering that the pair already passed my lair twice, listening to caution and improving the quality of its concealment had proved to be a worthwhile investment.
---
The scouting party, discouraged with their inability to find my resting place, were finally out of my territory. As the humanoids left, I could finally contemplate on the all too familiar feeling of a mana signature emanating from one of them.
The one dressed in dyed furs was running a reinforcement formula, the amount of energy leaking out big enough to be sensed even without dedicated apparatus.
In my life as Tanya Degurechaff, I would have scoffed at such a poor display. Only an incompetent would waste so much mana on a spell as basic as this, computation orb or not.
However, I was no longer Tanya Degurechaff, and this was no longer her world.
The magical abilities of my current body, which, while nowhere near matching the level of a computation orb in certain aspects, dwarfed those of a baseline, unassisted mage. This species' draconic appearance, while superficial, could be an indicator of similar aptitude for magic.
I had no guarantee that the obviously botched spell wasn't intentional, designed to lower my guard and draw me out, while other mages, hidden under illusions and masking their scent with unknown herbs, laid in ambush.
As both a logic driven individual, and victim of Being X, I couldn't leave such a dangerous possibility to chance. Decision made, I began to follow these 'dragon-goblins' to the outskirts of their colony, where, under the cover of magic assisted camouflage, I was free to gather intelligence and model my eventual response appropriately.
---
If I had to compare the village before me to a settlement seen in either real life of works of fiction, my first choice would be a more primitive and less wealthy Hobbiton from 'Lord of the Rings'. The forest clearing was unnaturally hilly, each earth mound marked by at least one entrance. Chickens, or at least creatures similar to them, pecked at the ground under the watchful eye of a young child and one of their parents. Completing the early iron age look was a group of big smelting furnaces made out of piled up stones, gaps between them filled with what was likely raw clay.
Completely unlike the idyllic hobbit village, here every creature seemed tense, watching either the sky or the edge of the forest. The constant vigilance of the general population, in spite of the remarkably well put together moat-rampart-stockade defenses told me that here, civilization wasn't yet able to overcome the adversity of nature.
Understandable, considering the fact both of this body's biological parents were at least 70 meters long, without guarantee of them being the biggest predators in the world.
I had no choice but to applaud this species' caution and forward thinking abilities, even if I was targeted as their byproduct.
Presented with a threat of a growing dragon, they seized the initiative, trying to deal with the problem before it, quite literally, grew out of proportion. The ability to not only use the cost/benefit analysis, but act on it, was a trait that no doubt would allow them to, in time, ascend beyond such partial threats as local fauna.
Truly, the ability to overcome any adversity was the greatest trait of any logic-inclined society. Internalizing this, an unbidden grin crossed my muzzle. See this, Being X? How does it feel, knowing that not only humans, but all civilized species, will in time ascend beyond the fear of the unknown and through scientific progress denounce their faith in divine guidance?
My musing was interrupted by the rustle of nearby bushes. Still smiling, I turned my head, only to find a child held by the hand by their parent, staring directly at my teeth. For some reason it immediately started crying, followed by the scream of the adult and a wooden toy nailing me in the eye.