"It isn't?"
"No," Hudson said, walking to me and holding a sheet of paper up. He was kind enough to do it in such a way that I could read it without needing to shift back to my bipedal self.
I muttered as I read, something I'd never quite broken myself of. "Mr. Eskal Vervain is requested with his lawyer to meet with the museum manager in accordance with-" I paused, then looked back at the Fontaine pack's leader. "Are you suing me?"
"No, we're just trying to clear your name with the local authorities. They think you off-loaded some cheap land to us knowing that it would be restricted. So does the firm that represents Fontaine Feeds. We could choose to go ahead and tell them that we know better, but that would imply that we know each other."
Ah. "You're attempting to uphold the secrecy act by annoying me. Clever move, Fontaine."
"I don't see any other way around it. I'm sorry."
My paws dug talons as long as their torsos into the ground beneath me. Forced, dragged before some human judge that would act as juror and executioner. This would cost thousands to clear up and under the guise of protecting the pact. I paced before them, attempting to think my way through a manner in which this would be delayed until my own staff had time to go through it, destroy it, and send it back to these foolish people in a shredder bag.
There didn't seem to be any way around it. I was trapped by the laws we upheld. Our industries were too different. The Fontaines were in the business of making pet food and were, admittedly, extremely successful at it. Of course, formulating food for a dog was simple when it was practically cereal to your inner mongrel.
My cover job for the moment was that of a real estate entrepreneur, primarily in rural and commercial real estate that could be quickly flipped for a higher profit. This was, of course, the smallest amount of wealth the humans I dealt with could wrap their minds around.
Had they seen the caverns in which my true wealth, collected over the past fifteen centuries, was laid hidden they would not have been capable of understanding it. After a certain number, humans and non-dragon shifters alike seemed to let their tongues roll out of their heads and allow their eyes to turn into dollar signs.
The Nightflight, that which I lead, was similarly wealthy. None of us knew the location of another's hoard, but that was common within our community. We were all well-equipped to become independently wealthy from birth, especially in the era of which we had been born.
In which none of these yammering, irritating, squishable humans would have dared to demand I show up for a fucking meeting regarding the ethical nature of the property I had already sold.
"Lunch. Tomorrow. I desire that there be payment for it upfront, Hudson. Should you force me to attend something that does not offer wagyu, I will roast all of you. Am I understood?" I grumbled, stretching my wings.
Sadie was the one who answered, smiling up at me. "We just appreciate you helping out, Eskal. Thank you. I'll make sure we get something worth your time."
I didn't answer her and crouched. My wings cupped the air and I launched myself back into the sky, scooping the night beneath me with wings larger than that of the clearing below me.
With an expanse such as I have, the trip home took little time. I owned a comfortable abode, showy enough for business meetings but large enough to allow me a basement in which to curl up in when I was in a sour mood. I had lost count of the size of it; something perhaps in the 10,000 square feet range.
Feet. Really. In the civilized world, we used meters.
Though it was possible that my flight may decide to stay with me in the home, they rarely did. I didn't use most of it. Upon arrival, I retired to my library, which was settled well out of the way of the rooms which I used to entertain. The further I went, the more personal my belongings became.
An old suit of armor, slightly charred, stood upon a platform. The lord who had ridden into battle against me had never made it home, though he had been threatening a clutch of my mother's eggs, my siblings, when he did it. We had stood accused of disappearing with the local farmers' livestock, charges which were horrendously accurate, but a dozen goats were not worth the lives of my family.
Had I been given the chance; I would have killed him again.
Though dragons were somewhat casual about the recent selfie craze that had started some time when Kodak had made cameras affordable for the entire family, I had retained pictures of my direct family for a number of reasons. The primary one seemed to be rational; they were all that I had left of them.
You see, there were rumors of magic and mayhem during the World Wars. That was because there was. We had made the Pact shortly before the second of those nightmarish time.
The problem being, we were an absolute requirement for the Allies to win. When their technology could not get them close enough to the enemy, we took the bombs to their final resting place and assisted in their victory. Their next move? Find the dragons, kill us all with those same weapons, and bury the secrets of our existence while gathering our riches to restore their militaries.
I wasn't angry about the latter part of it. I understood that money was
