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Duke Somerfell was not having a good day.

It was a sunny day out. The birds were chirping and the apple orchard was in bloom. He'd even had cherries in his breakfast brought to him from the tree his father had imported as a seedling from the east. If Duke Somerfell had been a simpler man, it would have been a good day.

But he wasn't. He was a complicated man, and complicated men had complicated reasons for their moods. For one--the sun. It was the middle of spring and the sun was shining down hot. It was basking_weather, and when it was _basking_weather, the dragons came out. You'd find them sprawled on mountain meadows and across the tops of trees in the high forests. He was the lord of nearly two hundred thousand acres of prime dragon territory, and the dragons were such a_complication.

Second, he reminded himself, his daughter had been taken. She had been on her way to the south to meet Lord Pindlefeather's son--her betrothed and soon-to-be husband. It'd been such a neat little contract. Within a generation, the Somerfells would instead lay claim over half a million acres. That is, if the dragon (see previous complication) hadn't taken interest in her caravan and made off with her and her rather enormous... Dowry.

Little Miss Somerfell had been another complication. She took after her mother's homeland--large and northern. Why had he ever taken a wife from the northern tribes? Of course, there had been the treaty. And the land. His northern border had swollen to twice its previous girth. But when his daughter had arrived... Well. She was his first and only child, but if you measured purely by mass, he had a truly prolific amount of heir. She wasn't fat--that he could have solved by hiring a well-trained chef and a disciplinarian to look after her. No, instead she was... Northern. In the north, they had myths and legends of giants and titans that wandered the mountains in the ancient days. If Little Miss Somerfell's stature was any measure, she was a direct descendant.

When he'd first been told that a dragon had picked up his daughter and flown off with her, he had to stifle his first question, which had been "How?" Instead, he'd made the edict across his lands. Bounty notices and broadsheets were hung in villages and towns. He who could return his daughter to him would be granted a parcel of land and a bag of gold as heavy as he could carry. It had been an ingenious reward, he had to admit to himself. It didn't specify the size of the land grant, nor its location. Further, gold was much heavier than your normal person realized. It was riches to your small-town country bumpkin hero, but it would barely make a dent in the treasury for Duke Somerfell.

He was pouring himself a morning tipple when he heard the door to his solar open. Seabridge, his butler, entered and bowed. "May I present the Heroes, my lord. In response to your bounty."

"Ah, of course." He continued pouring. He hated adventurers. They dragged in mud with them. Still, he had asked for them to come. It was just another little frustration to darken his day. "Thank you for coming. I must admit, I'm impressed. I only just posted the bounty yesterday. I hadn't expected anyone to respond so promptly. Would you care for brandy? It's a-"

"Yip!"

Duke Somerfell stopped in his pouring. Had that been a yes? To be on the safe side, he took another glass from the sideboard and filled it half-full. It was a Andian Red. It was burgundy in the shot glasses, and gave off the potent whiff of cherry. He turned, holding the half-full glass out in one hand. "Now, as the broadsheet said, I'm willing to pay-" He stopped.

"Seabridge."

"Yes, my lord?"

"There are kobolds in my solar."

"Yes, sir. They are the heroes."

The closest kobold reached up and retrieved the shot glass from his outstretched hand. He pulled his hand back as if he'd been stung. The kobold appeared not to notice. It ducked its head into the shot glass and inhaled the brandy in a single hissing gulp. It handed the glass back, and with stunned reflex, Duke Somerfell took it.

"More!" The kobold seemed to hesitate, as if remembering something. "Please."

His hands poured another measure of brandy automatically. Turning away from the little scaled hellions gave his mind a moment to catch up."Seabridge, I need seasoned adventurers, not..." His mouth formed the word_vermin_, but he was too well cultured to let it slip out.

"Have letter! Here, read!"

There was the crinkling of paper behind him. Seabridge's neutral voice cut through the silence that followed. "It appears, my lord, that these heroes do in fact have a letter that states that they are genuine adventurers. Oh my, and it has the royal seal on it. It appears to be genuine."

"Give it here!" Duke Somerfell stepped over a scaled tail and grabbed the paper from his butler. It was an official letter of commendation, citing the adventurers bearing it as crusaders of the crown. On the bottom was a small splotch of wax, and the royal seal embossed into it was unique and unmistakable. His headache did not improve. A duke of his stature didn't just throw authorized crusaders of the crown out of his manse, regardless of their unconventional stature.

"I... See." He handed the letter back to one of the kobolds, who snatched it from his fingers. "Well, I must apologize then. I wasn't aware we had such hardened veterans in our midst."

The lead kobold beamed a smile that showed very small and sharp teeth. There were four of them. None of them even came up as high as his waist. The leader--or he assumed it was their leader--wore a simple black robe and carried a simple baton at its side. Its scales were a dark, royal blue, so deep that in the strong light of the solar it almost appeared black. Behind that was another in hunter's leathers, and to the side were two others that wore shining mail. The last two bore a sheathed sword between them, too heavy for either one of them to carry alone.

"Am Kilik! Knights Dak and Tibbit. Squire is Pik."

"I, eh, am pleased to make your acquaintance." The duke hesitated. How does someone even address kobolds? "Well, obviously you've read my bounty."

The lead kobold's eyes shifted nervously. "Read. Yes. Of course. But, say Pik here no good at reading. Tell us out loud?" There was that strange delay again. The one she called Pik glowered. "Please?"

Duke Somerfell held his hand out again, and the brandy glass disappeared from it. Before the lead kobold could dunk its head in again, there was a squabble, and the glass sloshed its way over to the kobold in leathers. He inhaled it and handed the glass back with a cross-eyed smile.

"Well, the terms are clear. For the safe return of my daughter from the dragon that's absconded with her, I'm offering a parcel of land from my estate, and as much gold in a bag as you can carry."

There was conversation between the kobolds in their hissing, clattering tongue. Then the lead one looked up at him sharply. "Mount Deek-ik."

Duke Somerfell paused. It took a moment for him to translate. Mount Dechic was on the border of his domain. In truth, the river that flowed down from its slopes was used as one of the demarcations of his lands. It was craggy and heavily wooded. Even though it was technically part of his lands, no one lived there--at least, none of his estates claimed it as farm land. "Ye-es. I could see fit to that." It was better than he'd hoped. He'd thought he'd have to give away a small but still important part of his lands. This, though, was far from his estates and virtually meaningless.

"But first you'll need to retrieve my daughter. You are aware she's been taken by a dragon."

"Yip! Yip. Dragon. Yes."

"Large beast with wings?"

"Big scales. Breathes fire. Yip!"

"I can't help but notice." He ventured casually, as if it'd only crossed his mind. "That you are very small."

"Size not importants! Kobolds smart."

"Yes, but against a dragon-"

"Not much smaller than you compared to a dragon, Mr. Duke person."

He had to admit it had a point.

"But those two can't even hoist their own sword!"

"No need, yip! They's mounted cavalry!"

Duke Somerfell let that ruminate for a moment. "They ride a horse? Anyway, they still need to hold the sword, even if they're mounted."

"Sword not for them. For their mount."

"For their..."

His butler broke in. "They have a minotaur in the stables, my lord."

Of course they did. Duke Somerfell put thumbs against his sinuses. He was going to have cherries with his lunch, too. He'd earned it. "Right. Seabridge, would you give them maps and..." He remembered the part about them not reading very well. "Point them in the general direction?"

"Yip! We gots the mission!" There was a hissing cheer from the kobolds that made his head throb. His butler buttled them from the solar, leaving Duke Somerfell on his own with the brandy. He was going to regret this later. He was sure of it.

---

"Oh, I do hope he comes soon. Do you think he'll be dashing? I've read all about how betrothed princes are supposed to be gallant in their suits of shining armor."

Would the princess ever shut up? Ankomorhigal the green wished she had external ear-holes to cover. The stupid human had been going on like that for a whole day, straight. 'Would the prince be this?' 'Would the prince do that'? Faugh! It was bad protocol to eat the princess before even the first knight showed up, but how could it get any worse? If she opened her mouth just one more time-

"Do you know his name? His name is Teyvo! That's so exotic! Father says his mother is from the western savage lands." Little Miss Somerfell stated matter-of-factly.

"Just be QUIET!" Ankomorhigal roared. She wasn't good at many things other dragons were good with. She couldn't do magic--it was too fiddly. She wasn't an expert flyer, though she muddled along well enough. She was, however, particularly good at being loud. Making herself heard in capital letters was really her 'thing'. At the thunderous roar, the captive princes broke out into tears and sobs. Oh. Well, that's how it could get worse. The human's wracking cries echoed off of the walls of the dragon horde.

Then the noise just... Stopped. At first, Ankomorhigal thought perhaps the human had died. They're such soft, squishy things. It was possible. Oh, if only to dream. But then, she got that certain tingle. Someone had entered her lair! She stood and unfurled her wings. She inhaled. It was the prince! It was her prey! It was-

Actually, she coughed out the snort of flame she was about to roast her visitor with, no. It was only a couple of kobolds. She scowled and lowered her head so she could look at them directly. They were little lizard-like folks with dark metallic blue scales. Must have been from the mountains. The kobolds here in the foothills were mostly green and red.

"What do you want? As you can see, I'm a little busy here!" She narrowed her eyes at the unwelcome intruders. "Who do you represent?"

"No one, your magnificence!" The leader said. "We came because of the human girl."

"What of her?" She took a closer look at the lead kobold. Female. Clever. She liked clever kobolds. She employed a few herself.

The kobold prostrated herself. "The girl's father hiring mercenaries to find her, oh-mistress-of-the-scales."

"Mercenaries? That's odd. I thought it was normal for the king to send his knights to find her."

The kobolds squabbled among each other for a moment. The leader turned back, timidly prostrating herself. "Ill news, lady-of-the-sky. The girl you've captured isn't king's daughter. Her father a duke. Stupid, small, provincial duke."

"WHAT?" The kobolds cringed back from her capital letters. She looked at the 'princess again'. Pink, frilly dress, useless and constricting so badly she could barely move. Impractical footwear. Her cart had carried gems and gold for her horde. If not a princess...

"Girl, give me your tiara." Little Miss Somerfell blinked incoherently, but at another roar removed her headpiece. The dragon caught it with one claw and swung it up into her mouth. Gold, with a hint of... No. After just a moment, the taste of gold faded, to be replaced with tin and copper. She spat the offending decoration from her mouth and wailed. "Tin! You're right, she's a duchess. Oh, what's the point?"

Ankomorhigal collapsed on her horde. There were thousands of coins (mostly silver) and semi-precious stones piled into a comfortable heap beneath her, but what was it all worth? It was just metal. Sure, it was comfortable, but a horde couldn't buy a mate. Princesses, and deep-fried knights, now that was what could snare a male. Show her strength, show her dominance, and any virile dragon would beg to worship her...

She felt a timid hand on her snout. Her eyes snapped open, but it was only the female kobold. "Don't despair."

"What would you know of it?" She spat. "You're just a little kobold. Your den must have a thousand eligible males. I have to entice one from mountains away, and here I am with some silly _duchess_instead of a princess."

"True." The kobold cocked her head to the side. "But what you need with a male? You right, I am silly little kobold. Stupid silly. You are a magnificent dragon. Why bother measuring yourself by a male?"

The dragon squinted her eyes. "I do not understand."

"Have seen some dragons. They come visit our male-dragon back home. Maybe not best judge, but you gorgeous dragon-ess. Not need princess. Not need knights. Just need to be yourself. Beautiful. Dangerous. Deadly. Breath fire. Princesses just loud and obnoxious."

The kobold was right, there. "But still, without a princess--without a mate..."

"Silly kobold. Is true. But maybe you answer own question. What you want to be, great-ravager-of-kingdoms?"

Ankomorhigal stopped and thought. "I will be a dragon queen! I will rule everything for as far as I can see from the top of my mountain!"

"Yes! Beauty! Power! Dominion! And, um, stupid kobold not understand. How will having male dragon here help you get there?"

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Actually, it wouldn't. Hells, it would make it more difficult, actually. Damn! If she had a male, he'd want to take over. Then she'd have to fight him, and-

"No. No! This was a horrible mistake!" She cast around for a solution, and settled on the kobolds. "You! You four. Take that useless girl and get her out of here! Maybe I'll be able to salvage this mess yet."

The kobold bowed again and backed away. The girl and her pointless yammering was removed, and the dragon was left in peace. Quiet, contemplative peace. There were plans to hatch, and schemes to scheme, and this time they didn't include stupid princesses or ruinous males.

---

It was another horrible day. Why, oh why, couldn't the local habitat more accurately represent just how troublesome the day actually was? Duke Somerfell absent-mindedly kicked at a loose cobblestone as he prowled around his sun-filled meditation glade. Of course birds were singing in his closely clipped trees, and deer were frolicking in his carefully manicured lawns. That was the trouble with idyllic summer days. They had no concept of the gravity of the Duke's troubled lifestyle.

A door opened onto his small enclosed garden, and Seabridge stepped in."My lord, your kobolds have returned, and I do believe they've brought your daughter with them."

He paused in his step. "Truly?"

"Yes, sir. I've seen her up to her rooms. I'm sorry to say she preferred not to see you in person on her return."

"Oh." He shrugged. "I'm sure my little princess has had a traumatic week. Please see that she is well seen-to while I arrange another caravan for her voyage down to-"

"Ahem!" A loud exclamation erupted from behind the butler's back.

"Ah-hah. I do believe the kobolds wish to speak to you, my lord."

They did indeed. They scuttled around the attentive butler and crashed into the peaceful glade. "Found daughter. Promised payment!"

"Yes, I did, didn't I?" The duke scowled. He was loathe to reward the awful little creatures, but he had his reputation to see to.

"Well, then, a bag of gold-"

"Heavy as we can carry!" The leader danced on its spindly legs.

"Heavy as _one_of you can carry, I do believe the agreement was."

"Yup!" Another one, the one she'd called Dak (or was it Tibbit?) leaned back against a newly planted birch sapling. It bent under the kobold's weight. "Any of our party, yes?"

"Y-esss." The duke shrugged. "So, which one of you will be the one to carry it?"

"Martin." Another one said.

Martin? Martin wasn't a very kobold-ish name. "Who's Martin."

"We'll get him. Martin!" There was a crunch as Seabridge was pushed out of the way of the door, and a monstrous shape filled the frame, edge to edge. The kobold's minotaur stepped into the glade, massive muscles sliding over each other on his massive biceps. When he looked closer, the duke could see that the musculature was actually sliding over even more muscles beneath it. Hell, even his muscles had muscles.

"Now wait one minute!"

"Martin important and meaningful part of adventuring party."

"Thanks boss." The minotaur rumbled.

"Don't let it go to your head."

"Yes boss."

"But-"

"Agreed! Signed! Contracted! Go back and we tell!" The kobold waved the crumpled paper in its hands, complete with the royal seal adorning its bottom. Damn. Damn damn damn.

"Alright! Fine! Seabridge, would you take the minot--Sorry, would you take Martin to the treasure and have him hoist bags until we figure out how much gold he can lift?"

"Of course, my lord."

"And land! Promised land!" The kobold leader was dancing with its damnable letter.

"Yes, yes. Some land on the slopes of Mount Dechic." He held his temples. It was going to be a difficult night as well.

"And all ground below!"

"What, do you plan to mine it?"

"What we do with land is our business!"

"Of course. Right. And land beneath it."

A contract was written up and a map was consulted. Martin returned with two hefty bags, straining the fabric at the seams. Duke Somerfell scrawled his name to the bottom, and the kobold splatted its hand in the ink next to it.

"Is official! Kobold now own slopes of Mount Deek'ik!"

"Yes. Yes you do. Now would you please-"

"All kobold tribe live under Mount Deek'ik. Now kobolds own land, too!"

"Oh? Is your tribe there? That's nice. I-"

"Contract signed! Kobolds now rulers of own land! Declare it kobold nation! Declare self queen Kilik of kobold nation!"

"Wait, that's not-"

"Queen! Will send emmisary as soon as we get government set up. Expect us. Martin! Bring our riches! We have a kingdom to build!"

Duke Somerfell sat down at the roots of the birch sapling. What had he done? A kobold nation, right on his front door? That was preposterous!

"Father!"

Oh, Little Miss was finally out of her rooms. At least some normalcy could resume. Duke Somerfell stood and brushed himself off. At least his daughter was obedient. At least she made sense.

Then Little Miss stepped into his meditation grove. She was decked head to foot in leathers that looked like she'd stolen them from the guard captain. On her head was a steel bascinet, and glued to it were two antique drinking horns. She'd found some blue paint somewhere and marked streaks across her face.

"Father, I've come to a decision."

"Little Miss! Go to your room and clean up right now. This is entirely unappropriate-"

"No!" She wailed. "I learned a lot while I was away."

The duke reached out to catch his daughter for a sharp spanking, but she reached up and caught him instead. Her grip was iron. It was only then that it occurred to him that his daughter was a head taller than he was, and significantly broader across the shoulder.

"Don't call me Little Miss. My name is Angha of the Two-Horns tribe. I listened to the kobolds, and learned that I don't need a man to tell me what to do. Getting captured was horrible. I'm going to learn and practice so it'll never happen again." She threw him back, and he stumbled to his rump in the dirt. "Tell that 'Prince' person that the engagement is off. Well, at least for now. I'm going north to learn about my heritage. Maybe when I come back he can ask for my hand."

Duke Somerfell gawped at her.

"If, that is, he's strong enough. If he's worthy."

Little Miss walked into the adjoining solar and took the ceremonial sword he had hung above the mantle down. It was a good fit for her size. Then, without looking back, she kicked the front door of the manor open and strolled out into the world.

The duke covered his face in regret. It had not been a good day.