Each Takes What They Need

Morning mist shrouded the Swamp of Sorrows like a layer of damp gauze. Deren stood before the half-finished factory building with his hands on his hips, staring at the crooked steel framework. Broken-Horn Black Dragon was curling his tail around a crossbeam, carefully lowering it onto the base while muttering terms Deren had taught him. "Vertical... horizontal... damn it, it's crooked again!"

"Half an inch to the left," Deren shouted, waving the Gnomish Engineering Primer in his hand. Its pages curled slightly in the humid air.

Broken-Horn Black Dragon bared his teeth as he adjusted the angle, fine beads of sweat seeping from between his scales—Deren had never imagined dragons could sweat, but ever since they began working on infrastructure, these black dragons seemed to be pushing their physical limits every day.

"Human!" Broken-Horn Black Dragon finally shoved the beam into its slot and asked between heavy breaths, "Why can't we just weld it in place with dragon breath?"

"Because we need expansion joints." Deren tapped the specially made bolt at the connection point. "Metal expands and contracts when the temperature changes. If you weld it solid, it'll crack."

The black dragon blinked blankly. He clearly did not understand, but he obediently did as instructed anyway. Deren chuckled to himself—half a month ago, these fellows only knew how to tear down houses with brute force. Now they could actually build according to blueprints.

Not far away, Onyxia leaned against a stone pillar, her silver-white hair loosely tied back and the hem of her dark blue robe smeared with mud. She toyed with a gold coin between her fingertips, one she had "negotiated" from a Goblin merchant yesterday—Deren had not dared ask about the details of that negotiation. He only knew that the Goblin's pants had been wet when he left.

"You really think these idiots can learn?" she asked lazily, her dragon eyes sweeping over the Dragonborn carrying stones. One of them was trying to pick up steel nails with his mouth, only to stab his tongue and howl in pain.

Deren wiped the sweat from his forehead and smiled. "At least it's easier than teaching them to rob people." He pointed westward—several Dragonborn were digging drainage ditches with specially made oversized shovels, their movements surprisingly neat. "Look, they already know how to use tools."

Onyxia gave a soft snort. A wisp of Black Flame suddenly sprang from her fingertips and precisely welded a loose rivet in place. Sparks landed on Deren's sleeve, burning several little holes in it.

"My new clothes..." Deren lamented.

"I'll buy you ten." Onyxia's tail swept across his back, her scales scraping the cloth with a ripping sound—Deren had long grown used to this sort of "dragon-style concern." He could not even be bothered to dodge anymore.

When work ended that evening, Deren slumped onto the stone bench outside the wooden house, gnawing on the standard issue of black bread and jerky. Ever since construction began, his diet had not changed—bread hard enough to use as a weapon, jerky so salty it tasted bitter, and, on rare occasions, a bowl of swamp lizard soup as an extra meal.

The wooden door was suddenly kicked open, and Onyxia entered carrying a charred roasted lizard tail. "Eat this."

Deren raised a brow. "You roasted it?"

"...The hatchlings did." She turned her face away, the tip of her tail impatiently slapping the floor until it shattered one of the tiles.

Deren tore off a piece and took a bite—it was unexpectedly good, at least far better than his "special construction worker meal." He was about to thank her when he saw that Onyxia had already walked into the corner, frowning at the pile of Reactor blueprints.

"The dwarves still haven't delivered?" she asked coldly.

"Heat-resistant equipment takes time." Deren swallowed the meat. "But Chromie said..."

Before he could finish, a loud bang came from outside the window. The two rushed out and saw a firework rise from the direction of the coast.

"It's a Theramore patrol ship. Something may have happened," Onyxia said with a frown, then turned and left the room.

Ever since making contact with Jaina, the two sides had silently agreed upon a method of communication. Jaina had arranged for a Theramore naval patrol ship to cruise the waters outside the swamp once each day. If anything came up, it would signal Onyxia, and the other side would leave a letter on the shore for the black dragons to collect. That avoided direct contact; after all, being associated with black dragons carried a bad reputation anywhere.

The night was ink-dark, and candlelight flickered within the wooden house in the Swamp of Sorrows. Deren bent over his desk, using a quill to jot down the next day's work arrangements in the ledger—"1. Check the drainage ditch slope; 2. Test the newly arrived pressure-resistant valves; 3. Train Dragonborn to use wrenches..."

Suddenly, the wooden door was pushed open by an invisible force, and the damp night wind rushed into the room carrying the scent of sulfur. Without looking up, Deren merely sighed. "I just oiled the hinges. Don't use magic to open it."

Onyxia emerged from the shadows, her long hair gleaming coldly in the candlelight. Between her fingertips, she held a letter sealed with gilded wax, the Theramore anchor crest clearly visible upon it.

"Jaina's ship will reach the shore tomorrow morning." She tossed the letter onto the desk. The parchment made a crisp sound as it unfolded. "Great Chieftain Thrall wants to see you."

Deren's pen paused, and ink spread into a small blue stain across the ledger. He looked up and met Onyxia's burning vertical pupils—emotions he could not decipher churned within them.

"So soon?" He set down the quill and gently ran his fingers along the edge of the letter. "I thought Thrall would need at least three to five days to consider it..."

"Jaina is coming to pick you up herself." Onyxia's tail suddenly coiled around Deren's ankle, neither too tight nor too loose, leaving a faint circle of scale marks on his skin. "It seems your human princess places great importance on this meeting."

Deren blinked. The Black Dragon Princess's tone was flat, yet he could distinctly hear the creak of her claws gouging several scorched marks into the wooden beam.

"She's only acting as the intermediary." Deren tried to pull his foot free, without success. "After all, Thrall only trusts her."

Onyxia let out a cold laugh and suddenly leaned down close to him. Her long hair fell forward, brushing across Deren's cheek with the distinctive scorching breath of the Dragon Race. "Do you know how the nobles of Stormwind City describe Jaina Proudmoore?" Her nail lightly traced the signature on the letter. "The 'Pearl of the North,' the 'Dawn of the Alliance'..."

Deren suddenly understood what was bothering her.

"You're worried I'll be charmed by some human princess?" He could not help laughing as he tapped Onyxia's nose with a finger. "Come on, I'm someone who gets used as a pillow by a black dragon every day."

Onyxia's pupils abruptly shrank into thin slits. The next instant, Deren was swept onto the feather mattress by her tail. The Black Dragon Princess pressed down on him from above, her claw tip against his Adam's apple. "Human, you'd better remember this—" Her voice was low, like rolling magma. "No matter how beautiful a pearl may be, it cannot match the fervor of Dragonfire."

Deren looked up at her and suddenly reached out to brush aside a lock of hair from her forehead. "You know, the way you are right now..." His fingertips gently traced the curve of her brow bone. "You shine brighter than any pearl."

Onyxia's scales instantly bristled. She abruptly straightened, her black robe billowing like storm clouds. "I'll take you to the shore tomorrow morning." As she turned, her tail knocked over the candlestick. The flames were swallowed by shadow before they could touch her scales. "Be late, and I'll burn your blueprints."

After the wooden door slammed shut, Deren touched the claw marks still lingering on his neck and shook his head with a soft laugh. It seemed that before meeting Thrall tomorrow, he would first have to soothe a certain proud black dragon.

The morning mist had yet to disperse, and Theramore's coastline appeared and vanished beneath the gray sky. Deren stood on the cold, damp beach with his boots sinking into the fine sand. Behind him stood Onyxia in her elven form—her arms folded, silver-white hair blown by the sea breeze, golden vertical pupils fixed on the Theramore patrol ship slowly approaching in the distance.

"Remember," she said in a low voice, carrying the inherent intimidation of the Dragon Race, "if you dare look too much at that human princess, watch me—"

"—burn Theramore." Deren finished for her, a faint smile on his lips. "Relax. I'm just going to discuss business."

The tip of Onyxia's tail lightly lashed his calf, hard enough to make him stagger half a step but not enough to truly hurt. Deren turned to look at her and found her gaze resting on the distant ship's deck—Jaina Proudmoore stood there, her golden hair gleaming like flowing gold in the morning light, her robe fluttering gently in the wind.

The Black Dragon Princess's pupils contracted slightly.

"She came herself?" Deren was somewhat surprised.

Onyxia sneered. "It seems the human princess places great importance on this meeting."

Deren did not answer. He merely gave her hand a gentle squeeze—the Dragon Race's body temperature was far higher than that of humans, her palm scorching hot, like gripping a red-hot coal. Onyxia's fingers stiffened for a moment, but in the end, she did not pull away.

The ship docked.

Jaina stepped down upon stairs of ice formed from the waves. Her gaze briefly lingered between Deren and Onyxia before she finally gave a slight nod. "Mr. Deren, Great Chieftain Thrall is already waiting in Theramore."

Deren nodded in return. "Thank you for arranging this, Lady Proudmoore."

Jaina's gaze swept over Onyxia, who was lightly scraping her claw against her scaled belt, producing a faint metallic rasp—a typical sign of a dragon's impatience.

"Black Dragon Princess," Jaina said calmly, "Theramore's harbor does not welcome the Dragon Race, but since this is a business meeting, I can make an exception."

A mocking curve touched Onyxia's lips. "How generous."

Deren quickly cleared his throat, interrupting the "princess standoff" that was about to escalate. "Let's go. Don't keep Thrall waiting."

Jaina nodded and turned toward the ship. Deren followed, but after only two steps, Onyxia's tail suddenly coiled around his wrist.

"Be back before sunset." Her voice was low enough for only him to hear. "Otherwise, I'll personally come to Theramore to pick you up."

Deren smiled, took hold of the tip of her tail, and gave it a gentle squeeze. "As you command, Your Highness."

After boarding, Deren stood on the deck and looked back at the shore. Onyxia still stood where she was, her black robes billowing like the night. Only after the ship had sailed far away did she turn into a dark streak and soar into the sky, vanishing amid the clouds.

Jaina came to stand beside him, her voice even. "You and her... have a very unusual relationship."

Deren shrugged. "Business partners."

Jaina's blue eyes looked straight into his. "Black dragons never 'cooperate' with people. They only conquer or destroy."

Deren looked out across the sea and chuckled. "Maybe she just hasn't met someone worth cooperating with yet."

Jaina fell silent for a moment before finally saying, "I hope you're right."

Theramore's trading house stood at the edge of the harbor, a plain gray-stone building with a brass plaque reading "Neutral Trade Notary Office" hanging outside. As Deren followed Jaina down the corridor, he could clearly hear his boots striking the floor tiles—steady, but just slightly faster than usual.

"Relax." Without looking back, Jaina spoke as the tip of her staff traced tiny ice crystals through the air. "Thrall doesn't eat people."

"I know." Deren instinctively touched his neck. "I just didn't expect to meet a legendary figure so soon."

Jaina suddenly stopped. When she turned, her golden hair swept over the Alliance Emblem on her shoulder. "Remember, here he is only 'Merchant Thrall.'" She lowered her voice. "Don't mention Orgrimmar. Don't mention the Horde. Treat it like two farmers discussing fertilizer."

Deren raised an eyebrow. "Farmers don't usually use Doomhammer as a negotiating tool."

The corners of Jaina's lips lifted almost imperceptibly. "That depends on the farm."

The moment the oak door opened, Deren's breath caught slightly.

Thrall sat at the far end of the long table, his broad back like a green wall. His braid hung over his shoulder armor. He was not wearing his iconic Blackrock Battle Armor, instead dressed in a plain brown leather coat, but the warhammer resting beside the table still radiated an invisible pressure.

"Ah, our fertilizer expert." Thrall raised his head, his deep voice like beating drums. His gaze lingered on Deren's face for two seconds before he suddenly smiled. "You're younger than I imagined."

Deren stepped forward and gave a proper merchant's bow. "Deren Losen. It is an honor to meet you, Great Chieftain."

"No Great Chieftain today." Thrall waved a hand, signaling for him to sit. "Only customers doing business." He pushed over a steaming cup of Herbal Tea. "Jaina said you can turn even beast horns into something useful?"

Deren poured a handful of Potassium Sulfate Powder from the sample pouch at his waist. "This is my sample. It can increase crop yields, especially potatoes. The exact results depend on the variety and soil. But it requires beast hair and beast horns as raw materials, so I need a large quantity. I hope to purchase them from the Great Chieftain."

Thrall's thick fingers picked up a pinch of powder and rubbed it between them. "Do you know how Orcs deal with this trash? We burn it. We waste a great deal every year." He suddenly leaned forward, his tusks gleaming coldly beneath the lamplight. "But you have to tell me the truth—"

Deren's back tensed.

"Can this stuff really grow food?" Thrall asked.

Deren's fist quietly loosened beneath the table. "No matter how much I say, it won't mean anything. You can take these samples back and test them yourselves. You Orcs have people who know how to farm too, right?"

Thrall suddenly slapped the table and burst into laughter, making the Teacups clatter and jump. "Good! Much more practical than those Goblin money-scamming trinkets!" He turned to Jaina. "My friend, this time you really introduced someone reliable."

Jaina gave a slight nod. "Then, the details of the deal?"

Three hours later, the contract terms were finally settled. All parties expressed their satisfaction.

Horde: Deliver beast hair and beast horns to designated locations every week, where they would be handed over to the Goblin Transport Team.

The Barrens Agricultural Development Company: Deposit the money into Theramore City Hall. Three-party settlements would be conducted once each month.

Theramore: As the fund custodian, collect a 1.5% service fee. (Jaina had originally intended to waive it, but Thrall rejected the idea with, "The Alliance needs to eat too.")

On the return voyage, Jaina stared at the darkening sea and suddenly spoke. "I can hardly believe the negotiation went so smoothly."

In the distance, a dark shadow streaked through the twilight clouds. Onyxia was waiting for him to come home.