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Cold air streamed into my face as I slid along the fast-moving air current blasting its way through the upper reaches of the valley. Two weeks after the delegation from Anorton had arrived, winter decided to drop several feet of fresh snow over the valley. It'd been over 48 hours since the ice had begun to fall and it showed no signs of letting up anytime soon. I found the powder and the freezing air to be fresh and invigorating, encouraging my inner fire to burn even hotter. Hunting was more difficult since many animals had retreated into their dens, but I welcomed the excuse to stay away from the village for longer periods of time. There was only so much human nonsense I could tolerate and my threshold seemed dangerously strained of late.

As I soared, flapping every now and then to keep my height steady, I was not searching the forest below for potential prey. I was, in fact, studying the contour of the stone crevasses of the mountains around me in my continuing search for a den to call my own. I had not found anything suitable as of yet, but that was not due to any lack of crevasses or holes to begin an excavation into the shelter of the mountain. Instead the major hindrance in finding a den was my own indecisiveness. I wanted my den to be perfect, and yet it was more than simply a matter of one place being too cold or another being too low to the ground. Of all the things I desired, some of them were contradictory.

I imagined a place that was dim, warm and secure, like the safe confines of an egg. And at the same time, I imagined grand halls and soaring arches where one could spread their wings and perhaps even fly under the earth. I wanted my den to be my bunker against the rest of the world, my safe haven for myself and my young, but I also wanted it to be a place of opulence and comfort with lots of human slaves - and there would be no doubt that they would be slaves - but slaves of any sort would undoubtedly compromise its security. And while I was willing to spend decades carving out a hole in the side of the mountain, I was not keen on spending centuries. I really wanted to see about finding a mate within the next 100 years or so... I was a male after all, I couldn't expect a willing partner to wander into my lap. That was my job!

In the afternoon, the storm still not abating, I dipped a wing and flung myself towards the ground in a long curve. When I was a few feet above the tree tops, I leveled my wings and let my momentum carry me as far as it would against the face of the storm. When I felt myself slowing, I began to flap, and flap and flap. I would be beating my way all the way back to the village, I knew without a doubt. My gut rumbled, though it was nary a sound over the howling of the blizzard. My paws, flattened against my body to decrease the profile I offered to the wind, felt the vibrations across the roundness of my midsection. I'd developed a soft layer of fat across my ribs and filled out my belly from the year of eating extremely well. As I flew, the snowflakes bouncing against my shielded water-lids, I was glad for my healthy ampleness. I had a feeling this winter would be long and it would be far too easy to eat my way through the village's meat supply. I concentrated on the image of a large herd of soft bovines grazing on a field come spring as I forced my way forward.

I landed in the deserted amphitheatre, sinking to my ankles in snow, and shook the powder and ice from my wings before carefully folding them; I tried to minimize the folds and creases exposed to prevent ice from forming inside them. Grimacing, I kicked in the powdery snow drift, sending a cascade of snow flurries into the wind. If it weren't for the tiers rising around me, there would be hardly any evidence that my theatre was here at all. Someone would have to get out here and remove all of this snow.

My longing for a proper den was even more palpable as I trotted my way into my garden, seeking at least some shelter between the huge pine trees. Even in the most densely packed and sheltered turnabouts, however, there was over a foot of snow. I did what I could with my tail, avoiding damaging the area with the sharp blade at the end of it. I then had to curl up on the frozen ground and tuck my head under my wing as the sky darkened; it wasn't night yet, but the humans were hardly even coming outside during the day currently. Under my wing, I had at least the illusion of shelter as the trees groaned around me in the brutal wind. I closed my eyes and remembered back to a time when I'd been smaller than a human child. I'd once spent a night in a tree when I'd become separated from my siblings during a storm. The groaning sounded exactly like it had back then and I'd been terrified that the tree would fall and crush me. It hadn't fallen, however, and I'd learned an important lesson that night about remaining steadfast like that old tree and just hanging on until things got better.

The following day, the blizzard finally let up and the old staff of Sir Ronald's manor labored in my amphitheatre under a clear blue winter sky. It turned out that since there was only one inn within the entire village, my majordomo had had to vacate his room in order to make space for the visiting nobles who were packed two to a room; which was apparently extremely tight for nobles. He now slept in the common room, still unwilling to go back to his farm, but he wasn't complaining. In fact, he had taken advantage of his position to eavesdrop on many a conversation since the delegation's arrival.

But I had little interest in gossip. "Did you find out what the Baron plans on offering next?" I asked Tobias. The first plan had evolved along the lines of just smoothing over the fact that I was technically a dragon on paper. But we immediately ran into a host of problems. For instance, to enter into the nobility, even on paper, I would have to make an oath of fealty to not only King Benedict IV and Lord Dominic, but even to a scattering of other nobles who would outrank me and within whose increasingly subdivided realms Devonshire lay. I was not willing to submit in any form, written or otherwise, my obedience to any human, even a human king. Then of course, was the fact that I 'inconveniently' dealt with my subject on a personal level. Even the remoteness of Devonshire would not hide my existence forever, not when I see the people in the village on an almost daily basis and conduct my business with them directly. And finally, there was the unresolved matter of the tithe... I didn't want to pay it and the Baron wanted me to in almost any circumstance. Discussion had so far not progressed any length in that particular regard.

"I have." Replied Tobias. "He was speaking about ways to term the proposition to a dragon with Sir Kingsley last night.

I growled a bit, the sound unfocused and indicating my general unease. I had a feeling I wasn't going to like the new idea. "Do tell then." I prompted, looking down at the little man all bundled in furs.

He pushed his mitted hands together. "Well, in the simplest terms, Baron Crestwell thinks that we could simply appoint a human to be in charge of Devonshire on paper."

My growling intensified, "What, and simply ignore the fact that Devonshire is mine?"

"No, No! Master, nothing of the sort." Said Tobias. Apparently, I'd come across too strongly. "The human regent would simply be a puppet under your control."

I quieted, my upset placated with the idea. "And what of the people who will see me conducting the village affairs?"

Now Tobias rubbed the back of his head. "Well, we could get the explanation around that, perhaps, you work for the human lord. The locals would know the true flow of power, of course." He added hastily.

I hissed long and softly. It wasn't an ideal solution. But the ideal solution for me would be if the Baron and his entourage simply left and let me be about my business. "I suppose it is a simple, if inelegant solution." I said. "It's worth talking about. See if the Baron will be willing to meet once the amphitheatre is clear. I don't fancy trying to squeeze my head into the village inn."

Tobias chuckled. I hoped that I was getting better at what the humans called "humor." "That would be a sight, for sure, Master. I'll speak to the Baron." I watched the human slog off through the snow. If this was truly to be the arrangement of things, there was only one human I'd be willing to work with in such a way.