The Flames of Progress

A few merchants exchanged wayward glances.

But most of the hall weren’t listening too intently… judging by their lack of questions.

They were staring. Why?

I knew why.

Because the Duke was way too cute.

The image of this delicate-looking Duke, standing there with all his noble dignity, earnestly fumbling through economic policy...

He didn’t need charisma; he was already radiating innocence.

And the crowd was eating it up.

We were giving them the promise of a future of a royalty too pure to cheat them. We were promising them a place without cynicism or uptightness of expression.

They saw a boy too pure to cheat them. Too naïve to extort them. And the idea of building their fortunes under a lord like that felt like a breath of fresh air.

And entirely my idea.

Which was why I sent the signal.

The palace attendants stepped forth, carrying armfuls of wildflowers.

When the first bouquet was placed into Calilah’s arms, he blinked in confusion.

But his fingers curled around the stems naturally, and he bowed a cool 90 degrees.

“So let this be our gesture: please earnestly consider East Gate as your next business venture!”

A ripple went through the crowd. A few merchants were already whispering logistics with their aides. No one likes being squeezed by monopolies.

And suddenly, East Gate looked like a breath of fresh air.

“Please enjoy the palace amenities and Coronation Day,” he finished, already backing away. “T-Thank you!”

\\

“Now l-let me tell you something!” Calilah snapped, stomping into his office with me right behind him. “I have never felt so degraded and used in my entire life! Or—or insecure!”

“I know exactly how you feel,” I muttered, shivering at the memory. First month at the company, the mascot guy calls in ‘sick’... and guess who they throw into the damn suit? Yours truly. For a whole month. In summer. In Japan.

Calilah spun on his heel, pointing dramatically at me. “Now since when did the orphanage decide to doll you up and p-parade you around…”

We didn’t get far into our verbal sparring before a sharp knock knock knock rattled the office door.

“Enter!” Calilah barked, then immediately felt bad. “Sorry, you may enter.”

Man, Martha was right. My duke really was too cute!

“S-Stop looking at me that way!” he cried.

A nervous servant soon stumbled in, balancing a precariously tall stack of papers in his arms. His legs wobbled like a newborn deer.

“Your Grace! Sir! The merchants and minstrels… they, uh, they told me to deliver these to you. Applications to… um… set up shop and promises to spread the word, I think?”

It all happened in slow motion. One shuffle of the servant’s foot and it was over. He fell, and the entire stack exploded into the air.

Raining down like bureaucratic confetti.

“Oh for the love of—!” Calilah flailed, but it was too late. His pristine desk drowned beneath an avalanche of parchment.

The duke and I stared at the mess blankly.

So this is what it must’ve been like to be an idol in Japan, I thought.

“Cotter?”

“Yes, Your Excellency?”

“This… mountainous load of work you’ve dumped on me has inspired a most brilliant idea for the task you owe me.”

I swallowed hard.

The door slammed open once again.

“Y-Your Grace!” Another panting servant half-bowed, half-crashed into the paper snowdrift. “Dragon—! We—we spotted a dragon in the distance!”

My shoulders dropped in relief immediately. “Oh, that’s good. It’s friendly. Maybe it's joining the festivities?”

“Friendly?” the servant squeaked.

“I’ve… encountered the creature before.”

“The Winged Guardian of East Gate," Calilah clarified. "Never thought I’d see her in my lifetime. But it is very suspect it came out during our most jubilant day in years when we haven’t seen such a creature in decades.”

It’s a her?

Calilah swept aside parchment and strode out. I followed, the servant skittering after us. The corridor spilled us onto a balcony that faced the plains.

A massive silver shape hung on the horizon.

Calilah shaded his face as he squinted past the shimmer of midwinter sun.

“Isn’t that the homestead of the Orstead family?” he pondered.

“What?” I leaned over the rail.

The dragon banked, curved like a drawn bow… then...

A lance of fire tore from its jaws?

What was she doing?!

The Orstead fields went from gold to white to black in a heartbeat.

Roofs blew outward, a gout of flame punching through thatched straw. One of their barn collapseds with the soft surrender of tinder.

The dragon hovered a beat over the ruin, as if admiring its work.

No…

Then she turned. Toward us.

The loose ash that had been Orstead’s homestead rose behind it. 

I saw drool foaming out of its jaws as it made a beeline straight for East Gate!

It made no effort to conceal itself. Its wings were like mini gusts of wind by themselves.

People below us stopped moving, seeming to hear the strange noise.

“It’s… it’s heading straight for...” the servant whispered.

Guards on the wall were already sounding the alarm. The watch-bells hesitated, stumbled, then found their panic rhythm. 

What alarm was there to be sounded when your enemy was already so close to your walls?

My mouth had gone dry. No model, no graph, no tax incentive could pivot a whole-ass dragon. No amount of business acumen was going to get us out of this.

Whoever had been pulling strings really, really, really wanted East Gate dead now that we’d refused to stay small.

But… why was the friendly dragon of all creatures involved in any of this?!

The dragon’s shadow soon slid across the city like an eclipse. People of all stripes screamed.

Funnily enough, they had no reason to. It didn’t seem to care at all about the smallfolk down below as it continued to soar.

No, the dragon ignored them and was heading straight for the palace. One we currently occupied.

Bollocks.

“Cotter,” Calilah said, “get down. NOW!”