Lance's Quandary!

Against all odds, the prophecy of the dragon, veiled in mysticism and shadows, unraveled into reality. A staggering debt of 2,000 gold coins was imposed, a fortune so vast it dwarfed the poor dragon's entire hoard, which amounted to a mere 88 gold coins. Among this modest cache, 20 coins were remnants of a dark bounty paid by the death god of the underworld itself.

These spectral coins from the nether realms could potentially fetch hundreds in the bustling markets above. Yet, even when accounting for this spectral wealth, the dragon found himself ensnared in a daunting debt of approximately 1,200 gold coins.

Should the dragon choose to acknowledge this debt, the path forward was murky at best. And if he refused? Well, compelling a dragon to repay a debt was no small feat. Who among the mortals possessed the audacity to demand payment from such a formidable creature?

Only legendary knights, heroes of epic tales, and the rare few with powers rivaling the mythical beings of lore would dare to confront him about this debt.

Would the dragon, then, settle this imposing financial burden of 2,000 gold coins? The young dragon, who was none other than the princess of the realm, pondered over this with a mix of curiosity and concern. For her, the scion of an empire, the sum was painfully extravagant.

To part with such an amount all at once was not merely inconvenient—it was excruciating.

For a dragon whose very essence reveled in the shimmer of gold, disbursing such a vast amount was akin to a death sentence.

During a fraught communication with the Bronze Bounty Guild in the human world, the dragon had been tempted multiple times to sever the connection. Yet, he remained, perhaps swayed by the words of a rabbit girl in the projection, who recounted how the three bounty hunters pursuing him had nearly perished by his enchanted sword scroll.

Indeed, the dragon's own scroll had almost claimed the lives of those he had indirectly employed through his bounty. The princess, naive in the ways of such dark dealings, had initially believed that the hunters would fall to a notorious lich, not her guardian's cunning traps.

Such a twist could lead a more cynical bounty hunter to suspect a sinister plot: perhaps the client, that Lance himself, sought to eliminate them along with the lich, thus avoiding payment under a veil of treachery.

Fortunately, the princess had grown to understand that this dragon was not the malevolent sort, not a shadowy predator lurking in the tales of old. Unlike the truly sinister dragons who cared naught for human life, this dragon, Lance by name, held at least some regard for the beings within his realm. Those outside his borders, however, were of no concern to him.

Lance was an enigma, neither wholly virtuous nor entirely wicked. He lived by a set of principles unfathomable to human minds. On a whim, he could be benevolent or indifferent; the lives of those around him mattered only if they held a place in his capricious heart.

At present, the enigmatic demeanor of the evil dragon, Lance, gave her a distinct sense of unease. Recently, a guardian knight, quite the handsome figure, was enlisted by the subjects of Lance's domain. However, Lance's first impulse was to sedate him with a potent brew of sleepy black tea and sequester him for an intense interrogation.

This action underscored a stark reality: Lance harbored no concerns for the lives of humans unconnected to him. For such a dragon, refraining from outright harm was considered commendable, expectations should be set accordingly.

"So, are you telling me those three fools nearly met their demise because of the two Sword Scrolls I bestowed upon them?" Lance's voice carried a mix of incredulity and irritation.

"Exactly as you say, Grandpa," came the reply.

"Are they simpletons? Did I not instruct them on the proper use of the scrolls? Unroll, confront the foe, launch it, then flee without delay. Instead of retreating, they charged ahead?" Lance's frustration was palpable.

"Grandpa Lance, it's not entirely their fault. The potency of the Sword Intent Scrolls took everyone by surprise, not just them. Even the members of our Bronze Bounty Guild didn't anticipate their strength. Before their departure, they even consulted a swordsman about the scrolls, who suggested that at most, the scrolls would release a handful of Sword Slash," Meredith explained, her voice tinged with anxiety.

She continued, "Everyone knows you're an exceptional apothecary, famed more for your remarkable potions than for such lethal enchantments. This misjudgment led them to underestimate the scrolls' power."

In the projection, Meredith's rabbit ears drooped sadly, her hands clasped nervously around her stomach, as she dared not meet Grandpa Lance's gaze directly.

Lance's temper was legendary, and the situation certainly warranted his ire.

The financial repercussions were severe this time. Typically, whether it was a bounty hunter, mercenary, adventurer, or any other extraordinary individual, damages inflicted upon civilians or property during their assignments were expected to be minimal, usually not exceeding a hundred gold coins.

However, due to the gross miscalculation of the power of Lance's enchanted scrolls, a significant portion of the City Lord's mansion was obliterated, and several servants sustained injuries, tallying a loss nearing eight thousand gold coins. Thankfully, the generous Lionheart City Lord forgave half of this sum.

Yet, the remaining debt of three thousand gold coins was a substantial burden for the involved parties, the bounty hunters, the Bronze Guild, and especially for Lance.

"Everyone is exploiting me," Lance muttered darkly, his sense of betrayal evident in his tone, as he pondered the weight of these unintended consequences.

The Evil Dragon Lance, seething with frustration, gnashed his formidable dragon teeth. The God of Death, Solomon, had whispered tales of a lich lurking near Lionheart City. Lance, guided by his instincts, had imagined the lich dwelling far from civilization, perhaps amidst the desolate wilderness. He had envisioned that Louis and the trio he dismissively called 'idiots' would deploy the sword scroll in some remote, uninhabited expanse.

To his dismay, the lich, a creature fond of solitude and eerie locales, had unexpectedly taken up the post of steward at the City Lord's mansion. This twist of fate, coupled with the trio's grave underestimation of the sword scroll's might, had woven a tapestry of misunderstandings that culminated in Lance's financial nightmare.

The first decree of the "Supernatural Code" explicitly stated: Supernatural entities undertaking tasks or missions must ensure that their powers do not inadvertently harm or kill non-supernatural humans.

Moreover, any damage inflicted on the dwellings or possessions of ordinary folk during supernatural confrontations mandated fair compensation.

Having seldom walked among humans, Lance, a venerable black dragon, found it almost incredulous that such a code existed to regulate beings of his ilk. For ordinary humans devoid of supernatural abilities, this "Supernatural Code" was a safeguard against unexpected demise at the hands of the empowered.

Driven by curiosity, Lance had delved into ancient tomes and scrolls, eager to uncover the origins of this peculiar "Supernatural Code." What he unearthed was staggering, the code predated his very birth. It had emerged from a protracted, fierce conflict between humans and supernatural beings, a war that had prematurely ended a flourishing epoch of humanity.

It wasn't until he was nearly two millennia old that Lance became aware of this "Supernatural Code." In its absence, he mused, many supernatural beings might disregard the lives of ordinary mortals entirely.

Yet, he pondered, were the lives of ordinary people not valuable? And what of his own life as a formidable adult black dragon? Was it not equally precious?

The burden of paying more than a thousand gold coins felt tantamount to a death sentence for him. But the quandary lay in his inability to shift this financial burden onto the young trio, the 'three unfortunate children,' as he thought of them. They had accepted his commission without the intent to profit grandly from it and had nearly lost their lives in the process.

How could he, with any shred of conscience, impose further suffering upon them? Without a conscience, though they might not earn much, at least they wouldn't face financial ruin. Thus, Lance grappled with the moral implications, his draconic heart caught between his own survival and his innate sense of justice.