Challenge #01731-D270: They Call it Dragoncote
Why do dragons hoard wealth and guard it so jealously? Because for dragons, much like for kings, money is power.
With kings, such a phrase lies more in the metaphor of capitalism, but for dragons it is taken much more literally - the greater the amount of gold and jewels and other treasures a dragon can amass and claim as their own, the more magically potent and physically larger they become, and likewise the less riches they possess, the smaller and weaker they become. Thus can their kind span from colossal ancient beasts dwelling in caverns lined with gold and gems down to tiny bat-sized wyrmlings clinging to their first silver coin... -- Anon Guest
They say money is power, and it's a good thing that most dragons don't get to hoard enormous amounts of gold. Most remain small, and hoard a single coin of negligible value. Their young are indistinguishable from geckoes, and the only way to truly tell is leave a coin in their line of sight.
Some infest bankers and trade-halls, where the people test money by seeing if the nearest dragon will try to snatch it. In towns that prosperous, it is bad luck to take off jewelry. Some dragons curl jealously around their first coin, and come along when it is spent. And rarely, very rarely, a dragon will find something more... valuable than a single coin.
Value is not the same as wealth.
Its name was Folli, and it was a very robust doll. Through the generations, it had been male, female, a bug, and in Sal's case, a best and only friend. The other children didn't like Sal, and they didn't explain why. So Sal stayed in her parent's farm, and spun worlds out of whole cloth for her only friend. And then Mama took her to market to sell some fledgeling chickens and gave Sal some coin to spend.
Of course she bought something pretty for her best friend. And got a penny and a dragon change.
Sal ran with her prizes back to Mama's cart and hid under the tarp so that the other children couldn't hurt any of them. She'd never seen a dragon coin before and huddled in her safe place by the water barrel so she could peer myopically at the glorious creature. All the while, whispering to Folli about how pretty it was.
It was pretty. All golden with glowing red stripes and flecks of blue that made it look like a gem. Sal could see it breathing. It had beautiful dark eyes and when Sal put her dragon-penny down to dress up Foli, something interesting happened.
The dragon unwrapped itself and, penny grasped in its tiny mouth, dragged it across the cart boards to Folli. The dragon dug its little claws into Folli's patched, canvas body and found a place to hide in Folli's dress' pocket. There, clutching at both Folli and the penny, the tiny little dragon began to purr.
Mama raised the tarp. "It's safe. Come on out."
Sal clambered out onto the cart seat and snuggled with Mama. Showing her the new ribbon in Folli's scrap yarn hair.
"Oh, pretty." Mama clucked for Stav, the horse, and he lurched forwards with the same determination that he pulled the plough for Grig, the butcher's boy.
Now that they were moving, Sal pulled open the pocket of Folli's dress to show her the dual prizes within.
"Oh, you got a dragon coin. They're good luck, I hear. Does it want to be spent?" Mama held open her hand for the dragon, but the dragon didn't move. "Apparently not."
"He's happy with Folli," said Sal. And those were more than enough words for someone who wasn't Folli. Mama was still learning how to be nice to Sal. It was hard for Mama, sometimes. Sal knew that her strangeness had made Papa go away. And some of that was mixed up in why the other children were mean. But they were all they had now since the red-spot plague had taken so many. So they both tried hard.
Sal tried to help with the farm. Mama tried to help with the bad things. And it was working out. Better and better every day.
By the time they got home, the dragon had grown big enough to peek out of Folli's pocket. All curled up with just its head looking around with those beautiful dark eyes. Sal fed it some of her bread and whispered stories to both it and Folli. Her coin-dragon was going to need a good name.
Glossgleam stood guard over the house and lands, and Sal, her human. She was called 'fae touched' by the others of her age, and shunned. The apothecary who travelled between three other towns had a different word. A word from the Brilliant Times. Autistic. Sal said the word, sometimes, because it tasted interesting when she did so.
Glossgleam didn't eat as much as a horse, and 'did for' the rats and the mice and even the insects that would erode Sal's winter stores. She was, however, as big as a horse and took over the job of pulling the plough for Grig. Grig, who spoke with his hands because the red-spot had stolen his hearing. Grig, who could always hear Glossgleam, and loved her as much as he loved Sal.
This was her farm. And her house. And her people. And she would keep them safe and snatch any stones thrown their way out of the air. Not that they did that so much, any more. The sight of a dragon in horse harness tends to give people pause. And when Sal's baby was born, that human would also belong to Glossgleam. Hers. Her hoard.
She decided that she would let the new, infant human loan Folli from Glossgleam's hoard. It would return to Glossgleam in the fullness of time. When the infant grew too old to want it much, any more. That had happened with Sal, and it would happen with the next child.
This was a good place to be, Glossgleam decided. Enough of a hoard to be intelligent. But not enough to grow avaricious and dangerous. She had fire to defend from thieves. Or those who would try to harm her hoard. No knight errant would try to slay this dragon.
Though she would theatrically 'die' for any small child playing at being a knight. There was no rule anywhere that said dragons weren't allowed to have fun.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / Arrxxx]
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That's a bit too cute XD