Northlands.
The faint light of dawn had only just spilled across the streets of Minas Tirith when Kangerweian, looking half-asleep, slipped out through the back door of a tavern club somewhere in Second City.
His nearly sunken eye sockets and deep black circles made it obvious at a glance that he was a veteran master of time management. Yet after juggling four jobs on a 007 schedule for over three months straight, even Kangerweian, a Black Dragon, could not hide a trace of exhaustion.
But the moment he saw the wages that had just been paid into his hands, all that fatigue was swept away by the satisfaction of being rewarded.
Ever since his mother had "sold" him to this city-state as a dragon hostage thirty years ago, he had been depressed for quite some time. He had even wondered whether his mother no longer loved him.
During those harsh early days, whenever night fell, he would toss and turn, unable to sleep, left with nothing but the moon to stare at as tears flowed in vain.
That bitch Drow dragon Naulym was even worse. She had clearly been entrusted by his mother to protect him, yet the instant she sensed things turning bad, she had simply abandoned him and run!
It was not until the minotaur Rayne found him—starving himself into a shivering little coal ball in a street corner—and waggled his brows as he asked whether Kangerweian wanted a quick-paying job to solve his immediate food problem.
Kangerweian had originally wanted to put on airs, seeing whether he could act pitiful enough to earn sympathy and scam a free meal. But his stomach betrayed him and agreed first.
Then the minotaur took him to a lavishly decorated tavern club filled with women.
At first, Kangerweian panicked a little