"Mmm—"
The soft sound escaped Aisha's lips as consciousness returned, that distinctive noise girls make when drifting from dreams to reality. She rubbed her eyes, vision clearing to reveal crimson scales glinting in the morning light.
A red dragon?
Her heart jolted before memory caught up. Oh, right. It's Zorco.
Ten days since her abduction, and she still hadn't acclimated to having a dragon as a business partner. Especially one determined to enter Twinspire City... to sell toys, of all things.
Then again, nothing should shock her anymore. Not after witnessing him obsessively design thousands of yo-yos, each with meticulous variations, each bearing names that sounded like warrior epithets: Blaze Warrior, Storm Eagle, Speed Fiend, Shockwave—each title more grandiose than the last, as if these wooden toys were legendary weapons.
She'd spent hours poring over Zorco's intricate sketches, including those not yet realized—Photon Sprite and Frost Soul among them. "Goblin craftsmanship lacks precision," he'd declared with the gravity of a general assessing battle plans. "We'll need to partner with dwarves."
What bizarre machinery churns inside that ancient dragon mind? Aisha often wondered.
Now those meticulously named yo-yos traveled with them, boxed and crated in the hold of the ship gliding toward Twinspire City—the greatest metropolis on the continent.
Zorco had compressed his massive form to half-human height, a necessary compromise for city travel. Thanks to the pygmy drake breeding craze that had swept the lands fifty years prior, a diminutive dragon barely raised eyebrows anymore.
Well—save for that one merchant on board who'd approached with gleaming eyes and offered a hundred gold coins to purchase Zorco as a "stud with excellent breeding potential."
Aisha had nearly collapsed from shock, her mind racing with visions of the entire ship erupting into dragonfire. She'd frantically signaled the two orcs traveling with them to intervene—which they did, removing the merchant from their presence with impressive efficiency. Figuratively speaking, of course.
Those two orcs were their muscle for this venture—hired to move cargo and handle security. Because using Zorco for intimidation was like using a volcano to light a candle. The collateral damage would be... extensive. The dragon was their nuclear option, their last resort.
Why hadn't they simply teleported to Twinspire, as most merchants did these days? Because Zorco's ancient magic resistance made conventional teleportation gates useless for him. Moving the dragon magically would require a portal large enough to transport an army battalion.
Sometimes, being an ancient magical creature had distinct disadvantages.
Their vessel was cutting-edge—one of those newly launched steam-powered ships, barely a year old. Still, the technology remained imperfect, requiring traditional sails as backup when the engines faltered.
The accommodations, however, were luxurious compared to standard merchant vessels. Their cabin even boasted enough space for a small table beside the bed—a table where Zorco had been hunched over, sketching relentlessly for hours. Anyone passing by might question their sanity at the sight of a dragon wielding a pencil with such delicate precision.
"What are you drawing?" Aisha finally asked, curiosity overcoming her morning grogginess.
"A manga," Zorco replied without looking up, his claw making decisive strokes across the parchment.
"This is manga?" Aisha's brow furrowed. She'd seen manga before—usually political satire or bawdy tales, painted large on city walls under cover of darkness. She'd secretly enjoyed those rebellious artworks.
But Zorco's creation bore little resemblance to those oversized oil paintings designed to convey everything in a single scene. His work consisted of pencil lines on book-sized sheets, divided into orderly rectangular panels, with a narrative flow connecting them.
"Of course it's manga." The dragon's tone carried a hint of indignation. "It's still in the lineart stage. I'll commission a professional illustrator to finish it properly when we reach Twinspire."
Aisha picked up several completed pages, examining the title boldly inscribed at the top: Blazing Yo-Yo King. Was this supposed to feature his Blaze Warrior design?
While the artistry wasn't exactly masterful, the panels captured movement with surprising dynamism. The sequential images told a story more effectively than she'd expected, creating a visual narrative that pulled her in despite herself.
Two figures faced off on an arched bridge, flicking yo-yos with the dramatic flair of knights drawing enchanted swords. Their moves produced spectacular visual effects—effects she herself had helped create with minor illusion spells.
"I'll surpass you one day," declared one character.
"To the world, my Western Speed Style is the strongest!" proclaimed another.
"I'll be back for the next championship!"
The words appeared in small bubbles adjacent to each figure—their dialogue made visible.
Western Speed Style? Aisha frowned slightly. Wasn't the west primarily populated by barbarian tribes?
She continued reading as the story introduced a yo-yo tournament between rival academies. Teams formed, alliances were tested, and the protagonist even intervened in a street confrontation, disarming an assailant with a precisely thrown yo-yo.
The draft ended there, leaving Aisha unexpectedly eager for more. It reminded her of those heroic tales she'd devoured as a child—only with yo-yos replacing swords and spells. While part of her found it slightly ridiculous, another part secretly anticipated seeing the protagonist demonstrate his skills before his assembled team.
The thought brought an unbidden smile to her lips.
But a practical concern surfaced: "Who would illustrate this?" The artists she knew considered text-dependent imagery beneath their dignity—an affront to pure visual expression.
Then again, Zorco would undoubtedly find a solution. Worst case scenario... he'd simply abduct another talented individual, as he had done with her.
"So?" The dragon's expectant voice interrupted her thoughts. "What do you think?"
"It's surprisingly entertaining," she admitted. "But... you're not creating all this just to sell yo-yos, are you?"
"Of course I am!" Zorco's eyes widened with genuine shock. "Didn't it make you want to buy one?"
"Isn't that excessive?" Aisha challenged. In her experience, toy merchants typically claimed a few city blocks at most. Being famous throughout a single city represented the pinnacle of success. Advertising rarely extended beyond posters pasted on walls.
"This is absolutely necessary," Zorco countered with conviction. "We're going to distribute yo-yos across the entire continent—no, the whole world! And haven't you noticed they're rather challenging to master?"
"Well... yes," Aisha conceded. "But what does that have to do with manga?"
She'd secretly attempted to replicate some maneuvers from his concept book, failing spectacularly and even acquiring a bruised forehead for her efforts. The only trick she'd mastered was "Walk the Dog"—letting the yo-yo roll along the ground before reeling it back.
That particular trick hadn't initially featured an illusion effect, but after her vehement protest, it now summoned a miniature white dog whenever performed correctly.
"That's precisely why the manga is essential," Zorco explained, eyes glowing with enthusiasm. "It makes yo-yos appear extraordinarily cool. It creates a cultural phenomenon—a trend. People are naturally drawn to participate in trends. When something becomes sufficiently popular, they'll willingly overcome difficulty just to join the movement."
His voice softened slightly. "And besides—manga is fun, isn't it?"
"TWINSPIRE AHEAD!"
The sailor's announcement sliced through their conversation. They had reached their destination.
Passengers surged toward the deck, eager for their first glimpse of the continent's largest metropolis.
Aisha felt genuine excitement bubble within her. She'd never visited a city of such legendary proportions—and somewhere within those sprawling streets, her older brother worked and lived.
Zorco remained unimpressed. He'd seen this place over two centuries ago, when it wasn't even called Twinspire. It had been an unremarkable settlement then, its lord possessing nothing worth a dragon's attention.
However, there had been an intriguing young mage who'd opened his tower to shelter refugees—a gesture that had caught Zorco's curiosity. The dragon had tested him with a blast of dragonfire, just to observe the response. The mage's shield had deflected it completely.
If that individual still lived, he'd likely evolved into a legendary sorcerer by now.
After disembarking, they were required to leave their cargo in storage for customs inspection—a tedious but unavoidable formality.
Zorco suggested exploring the city—his first opportunity to experience urban life from a non-aerial perspective.
A half-elf approached, attired in simple but immaculate clothing that marked him as a professional guide.
"Esteemed lady!" He bowed with practiced elegance. "Welcome to the City of Magic, the Capital of Commerce, the Birthplace of Technology, and the great bridge between continents—Twinspire City! I humbly suggest your journey would benefit from a professional guide."
Aisha glanced toward Zorco, silently seeking his approval. In urban settings, she handled all interactions.
"Take me to the most prominent toy emporium in the city," she instructed, assuming her role.
"Oh, what a wonderfully youthful spirit you possess, madam!" the guide exclaimed.
Not for me, Aisha thought wryly, knowing the request originated from her draconic companion.
They attempted to hire a carriage, but an unexpected complication arose—every horse brought near Zorco collapsed in instinctive terror. The dragon was forced to take flight, hovering behind them while their orc guards jogged alongside the vehicle.
"This is Cornflower Street," the half-elf explained, gesturing expansively, "one of the most vibrant thoroughfares in our fair city. Anything conceivable can be acquired here—though prices reflect the prestigious location. But I suspect that poses no obstacle for someone of your obvious standing."
The guide worked diligently to maintain an appropriately deferential tone.
"Here we are—Acrylate Toys. If exceptional playthings are your desire, no establishment surpasses this one. Even royalty are rumored to patronize these premises."
The building rose three stories tall, its façade adorned with colorful displays. Zorco's gaze drifted across the street—another three-story structure, though this one clearly housed a restaurant.
As the guide reached for the toy shop's ornate door handle, Aisha raised her hand to stop him.
"That won't be necessary. Let's visit the establishment across the street instead."
"Certainly, madam. As you wish." The guide pivoted smoothly. "That restaurant's seafood stew enjoys considerable renown. The chef hails from Lar Island, where they've perfected the art of—"
Aisha strode purposefully into the restaurant, interrupting his practiced spiel. A server immediately approached.
"Welcome to—"
"Who owns this building?" Aisha cut in, her voice crisp with authority.
"Sir Bain," replied the bewildered server.
"Excellent. Please inform Sir Bain that Lady Aisha Stone wishes to purchase this property. He will receive an offer he cannot reasonably decline."
The half-elf guide and restaurant server exchanged baffled glances. Had the young woman suffered some form of mental break?
The establishment's manager, observing the exchange, quickly assessed the situation. One glance at the imposing orc bodyguards and the miniature drake at her side suggested this was likely an eccentric noble's daughter with excessive wealth and limited judgment. Best to handle the situation delicately.
"Lady Stone," he began, approaching with cautious deference, "if I might inquire—what purpose do you envision for this building?"
Aisha's response was matter-of-fact. "To open a toy store."
The manager blinked in confusion. "...Pardon?"