Robbery!

Bruce, engrossed in his magical texts, gleaned profound insights into the architecture of spell models, recognizing the acute need for magical elements to advance his mastery.

He turned, reluctantly, to sustenance—mineral ores delivered daily by the diligent kobolds, which he consumed with the mundane regularity of chewing rice krispies. Yet, the whisper of winter heralded a grim forecast: the ore vein, bountiful in the last year, was now a hollow chasm. The depletion of minerals spelled looming anxiety not only for Bruce but for the kobolds as well, whose livelihoods hinged on their trade with the gray dwarves.

Compounding the dire situation, the territory's acid reserves dwindled, stymieing Bruce's efforts to amplify the reach and potency of his venomous breath—a mere shadow of the might wielded by adult dragons.

The urgency for resources crescendoed, the recent territorial expansion a mere band-aid on a gaping wound. Sparse wildlife and trivial monsters did little to satiate Bruce's hunger for strength.

"Boss," Sansham ventured, a cunning glint in his eye, "if dire times call for dire measures, why not plunder the human caravans traversing the green forest? Their riches could see us through the winter's grip."

Bruce arched an eyebrow, the absurdity of the plan unfolding in his mind. "And invite the wrath of dragon-slaying legions upon us? Experience the char of high-level mage fireballs and the warrior's merciless blade?"

Yet, Sansham's craftiness surfaced, suggesting deceit as their shield, casting blame elsewhere, or fleeing this barren land.

Bruce, weighing the suggestion, recognized a shrewd intellect beneath Sansham's rugged exterior, a strategic acumen surpassing that of his impulsive sibling, Torenço. This could be the opportunity to undermine the rival black dragon, Kasavia.

Acknowledging the transformation in his once simple-minded kin, Bruce wondered if the infusion of his dragon blood had catalyzed this intellectual awakening.

Months had sculpted his blood kin, the Cyclopes in particular, into formidable beings. Their bodies, once a mundane dark green, now boasted scales of a deeper hue, their defense immeasurably enhanced. Their fingers, tipped with iron-hard claws, signaled a newfound prowess in combat.

Bruce surveyed the transformations among his other kin—kobold Seth, werewolf Sam, and goblin Mike—all manifesting unique, formidable changes. Sharp teeth akin to dragon's, scaled arms with astonishing strength, and backs bristling with spines—a testament to the potent legacy of dragon blood coursing through their veins.

Bruce surmised that the divergent evolutions among his blood kin stemmed from their unique compatibilities with his dragon blood, each transformation tailoring to their intrinsic potential.

Observing the marked changes in his kin, Bruce, albeit reluctantly, conceded to Sansham's audacious plan—to plunder a human caravan. It was, after all, a means to evaluate his kin's newfound combat prowess.

Despite the recent territorial expansion temporarily alleviating their food crisis, the vast, yet resource-scarce, dominion they presided over offered little solace against the impending winter scarcity. The surrounding territories, firmly under the rule of formidable lords, remained beyond reach.

"A dragon, reduced to a mere brigand," Bruce lamented, the irony not lost on him. Carona and Torenço, his dragon companions, shared in this disgrace, their pride as dragons now tarnished.

The trade route that Sansham spoke of meandered through the northern fringes of their land. Yet, to lend credence to their ruse, Bruce chose the periphery of the black dragon Kasavia territory for their ambush.

Perched atop a hill, Bruce and Torenço lay in wait while Sansham and the others concealed themselves along the roadside. Their strategy: swift and decisive interception of the caravan, only resorting to draconic intervention if absolutely necessary.

As foretold by the goblin scouts, the caravan, a procession of riches, traversed under the noon sun. Bruce, his senses keenly attuned, discerned the unmistakable scent of treasures among the convoy—a trove that eclipsed even the loot from Kasavia's lair.

At Sansham's signal, the ambush was unleashed. Sansham, assuming the role of Kasavia envoy, bellowed a warning, attributing their raid to the black dragon's command. The caravan's leader, unfazed, invoked their pact with Kasavia, hinting at the severe repercussions of violating their truce with the Osa Empire.

Undeterred, Sansham led the charge, his kin's mallets raised, a battle cry of "Kill!" piercing the air as they plunged into the fray. The caravan's guards, composed chiefly of warriors with a pair of mages, braced for the onslaught.

Bruce watched intently as the guards rallied, forming a protective shield around their mages, who began their incantations—a testament to their strategic acumen. The aura emanating from the mages hinted at their formidable levels, a challenge Bruce recognized but was prepared to face.