By: Responsible_Sir:69

You start to pull yet another empty cart back to the dust and soot filled tunnels. You are used to it at this point, having spent quite some time down here. How long, you don’t even care to know. Months? Years? Its all the same to you. Day in and day out just pulling carts and occasionally digging out some of the heavier rocks. Work wasn’t hard for you, it was mind-numbingly boring. Even the occasional cave-in rarely brings any excitement, if ever.

As you make your way down, isolated from the world outside your own head, you are suddenly and rudely showed against a wall by another, slightly heavier employee of this fine establishment.

“Move it, Sprout!” he growled.

‘Whatever’ you think to yourself as you watch the grumpy Green make his way in the opposite direction with a full cart of black and grey rocks. He was here longer than you and from what you managed to pick up from dragonets around here, he will likely be here long after you leave.

Verdant, as that was his name, was under constant supervision since he apparently tried to escape even before you got here. He even managed to kill a worker and seriously wound one of the guards. That only got him having his wings clipped, so his grumpiness was somewhat justified.

After learning this, you decided to adopt a slightly different strategy. Just don’t fucking do it, play nice and maybe get out on good behavior sooner rather than later. Especially since you clearly needed friends both inside and outside to even think about escape.

Resuming your walk, you begin to look at some of the workers. Most of them, much like you, barely even pay any attention to what is going on as they hammer away at the rocks they were told to harvest. You never bothered to learn any of their names, partially because they looked very much alike, dirty clothes and faces, but mostly because they weren’t worth knowing. Just some petty thieves, kidnapers, con artists and swindlers, maybe a few failed mercenaries. Just boring, every day criminals. Honestly it wasn’t that surprising since all the interesting ones were eighter rich enough to simply pay for their prison time or just executed on the spot.

As for dragons, it was a fairly small mine but there was a few of you here on rotating shifts. Five Greens, three or four Blacks and a singular Blue. Reds evidently would rather go down fighting so you didn’t have any here for now. There was however one White at one point. He didn’t even work a week tho before some white robes took him gods know where. Fucking bastard.

Your thoughts are interrupted as you reach your destination and some dragonets begin to unfasten the cart. Free from the lightweight of an empty cart you eye the queue of filled to the brim carts and begin to walk towards them. You are stopped by one of the guards.

“Not this one, Sprout. This one.” he points to the cart on the side, wierdly filled with nothing black. “Also, The Warden wants to see you.”

“Why? Do I get to stretch my wings again?” you ask with a slight hint of hope.

“I don’t know mate. Just take this to the north entrance.” he points you in the direction and moves back to other carts.

You begin your walk, a bit more enthusiastic. Last time Warden wanted to see you they were short on traders and needed someone to fly them to get more blitz powder. Maybe they’ll wash you again like last time. You catch yourself smiling a bit as you look at your side where Verdant brushed against you, a bit of your own green scales peeking from underneath the grey dust and soot.

It was quite some time ago and thanks to your good boy attitude they decided to take a risk and have you flying. And by taking the risk you mean they had you almost blindfolded and weighted down with more soldiers than you have ever seen on even the biggest military Reds. You were not running even if you wanted to. The blinds forced you to just look at whats in front so you couldn’t recognize any terrain features on the horizon. You didn’t even know what town you were in.

When you landed they quickly loaded you with a few barrels of that stuff, paid the seller quite handsomely and you were back in the air before you could take the town air in. ‘It would be sweet if I could just hurl in a bucked once or twice a day and have my food paid for’ you thought. Greens really did get the short end of the stick when it comes to the art of selling spit.

Reds and Blues will always find buyers. That stuff is just too potent, even if it’s a pain to store and transport. Blacks too, even if it wasn’t as lucrative, acid surely had to have some uses.

Whites tho… not only do they have a spit that can preserve a kill for days if not more, their color alone could land them a place where they don’t even have to lift a claw. That White fucker from the mines was probably taken by the church and has all his needs seen to every day.

As for you, finding an honest client borders on a miracle. What you can offer is basically a fart in a jar or a vial of venom. Yes, there is a demand for green dragon spillages for alchemists or pharmacists in order to produce antidotes for green poisons. However, making sure there even was a need for said antidotes is precisely what has gotten you in the mines. Granted, you thought you were selling it legally to some young pharmacist but when the royal guard had you grounded and bound you didn’t have much of a defense. Especially since your venom was apparently found in multiple towns across the land and your buyer was never found. You could say you are the victim of your own actions.

As you near the exit you can see the sunlight. A few guards and a scrawny looking Warden all look at you as you emerge from the dust and soot covered cave.

“Ah, Sprout my boy!” the Warden says lightly. “I have some good news and some bad news”