Chapter 6: The Standard Package

Sure enough, Mina was right on the money.

When an exasperated Dragon Lord and his frazzled aide with much shorter legs stormed into the HR department, the first thing they saw was Mina’s empty chair and her neatly placed Leave of Absence sign propped on her desk, alongside her usual consolation chocolate.

Riley froze in the doorway, eyeing the sign with dawning horror. “Oh no,” he whispered. “She knew.”

Kael barely glanced at it, his golden gaze sweeping the room as the remaining elves who had clearly drawn the short straws of fate froze in place, wide-eyed and pale.

One even dropped his quill in fright.

Riley braced himself. Here it comes. The tantrum. The firestorm. The office barbecue.

But to his mild surprise and vague disappointment, Kael didn’t even roar.

Instead, he just strode forward menacingly, heading straight past the trembling employees toward the storage room at the back.

Riley scrambled to catch up, calling nervously after him. “Uh…Sir? Sir! Maybe we can just, uh, take the standard package? I mean, what could go wrong with the basics?”

Kael didn’t answer.

And just continued to check the dimly lit storage room that was lined wall to wall with racks of enchanted amulets, charms, and emergency scrolls.

One of the junior HR clerks, who looked like he might faint if Kael so much as looked at him, took his chance to escape by unlocking the cases before scurrying out.

And with that, the dragon lord moved to the center of the room to survey the spread with those critical eyes.

He reached out to inspect one of those standard-issue dragon wards and turned it over in his hand, his lip curling disdainfully.

Meanwhile, Riley hovered awkwardly by the door, wringing his hands.

With a soft clink, his boss set the ward down to examine the rest of the items: a basic fireproof cloak, a stamina pendant, a minor ward against spiritual backlash, and a set of clunky protective bangles.

He stared at the collection for a long moment.

Then he huffed, low and unimpressed.

“Is this what they consider adequate?”

Riley blinked. “Um…yes? It’s what everyone else gets, isn’t it?”

Kael shot him a look that could melt glaciers.

Riley shrank back instinctively. It’s not as if he wanted to cower every time, but this is sadly the effect of that lizard’s natural abilities.

Kael’s eyes returned to the table. He picked up the cloak, gave it one annoyed flick, and muttered under his breath.

“If I put all of this on you, you’d look like a hanger with legs.”

Riley opened his mouth to protest, only to close it again, because…well. He was a bit twiggy.

Kael turned away from the table, arms crossed, his mind clearly elsewhere.

Just how had his ancestors dealt with this nonsense? Or is that why they usually kept changing servants until his father’s time?

Hmmm.

But clearly, the standard protection wouldn’t be the way to go. For even now, even with all this, Riley’s father had still ended up bedridden with an illness that looked suspiciously like a curse they’d yet to solve.

And now, with the last remaining Hale heir still underage, this particular twig of a human absolutely could not die.

Kael’s claws twitched faintly at his side. Fine, then.

If the standard kits failed him, then he’d resort to that method — the one he’d been avoiding all these years.

Without another word, Kael just spun on his heel. Striding out of the storage room without taking anything.

Wait.

This obviously got the aide sputtering.

“Wait—wait, wait, wait! Sir?! You’re not—?! You didn’t even—?!”

He scurried after Kael, voice climbing into a faintly hysterical pitch.

Was he actually getting nothing after all that talk and anger about missing benefits?!

No wards, no scrolls? Nothing?!

So is he going back to winging it til he dies?

But then the towering dragon in his human form didn’t even glance back when he said, “If you’d like to look like a walking display case, by all means, stay here and pick out your accessories.”

Oh.

Riley froze for a moment before realizing that it was because the great lizard wasn’t satisfied with what he saw. Behind him, the other HR employees exchanged confused glances.

Was their standard kit really that bad? They all wore it. Were they all just…underprotected? Or was it just that Aide Riley had to face a kind of hell no one else in the company would dare touch?

Riley could feel their stares prickling at his back as he scurried after Kael, shoulders hunching.

They were probably looking at him like he was some sort of hero. Or worse, a martyr.

If only they knew. If only they knew that Lord Kael didn’t think the kits were good enough, not because he cared that much about Riley’s comfort, but because the kind of hell Kael dragged him into required more than some basic charms.

And that thought?

Couldn’t be less reassuring.

And worse, in the end, they were back to square one.

The HR department had been left behind in a quiet haze of confusion, consolation chocolates, and traumatized elves.

Now the dragon stood in his office, rifling through his private stash of forbidden, rare, and “probably illegal” dragon-crafted artifacts.

Riley stood off to the side, hands folded, trying very hard not to look like a nervous twig.

He failed. Spectacularly.

“Sir,” Riley ventured, voice squeaking just a little, “just to confirm…I am getting something, right? Not just…You know. A pep talk and a pat on the back?”

Kael didn’t answer. He hadn’t looked at this in a while and now had to be bothered to look for that thing in this magical space.

Thankfully, it hadn’t taken forever. And he ended up taking and setting out a small black dragonsteel casing.

Riley leaned forward, suspicious but curious. And praying that it wasn’t some cursed object that just happened to give out benefits in exchange for something. “What’s that?”

But before answering, the case was opened.

Inside lay a stone, cradled in intricate dragonsteel filigree. It pulsed faintly, soft gold light beating like a heart.

“The Guardian’s Heartstone,” Kael said. His tone was flat.

Riley blinked. “That sounds surprisingly safe…?”

Kael’s lips twitched. Which, for Kael, probably meant he was laughing at him.

“This has the fewest drawbacks,” Kael said. “Assuming you don’t do anything stupid.”

Riley stared at the glowing stone. “Sir, I think it would be best if you define stupid in this case.”

Kael finally looked up, and his golden stare made Riley regret asking.

“Reckless. Overdrawing. Forgetting to recharge. Things you do every day.”

Riley shut his mouth.

Kael picked up the Heartstone and turned it in his hand, the faint glow reflecting in his eyes.

“This stone passively draws on stored mana to sustain you. It won’t protect you forever. But it’s what you can handle. Anything stronger would kill you.”

Riley swallowed. “Wow. That’s…really comforting.”

Kael ignored him.

“It does four things,” Kael continued, stepping closer.

“One. It puts a barrier around you. Stops you from dying. Barely.” He didn’t bother softening that one.

“Two. It repairs you. Slowly. But it can purge poison and save you if you’re already half-dead. About once daily. Don’t waste it.”

Riley perked up faintly. “Actually sounds kind of–”

“Three,” Kael cut him off. “You stop looking like a corpse by two in the afternoon. It keeps you awake. You might even climb a flight of stairs without gasping.”

Riley muttered something under his breath that sounded like “I’m already gasping just being alive in this job.”

Kael kept going.

“And four. It feeds you. Suppresses hunger and thirst by burning mana. You’ll stop fainting if nobody feeds you during negotiations.”

Riley stared at him, eyes wide. “So… it feeds me, heals me, keeps me awake, and stops me from dying?”

Kael hummed, snapping the case shut.

“Yes. Unless you overuse it, then it eats you instead.”

Riley froze. “…I’m sorry. What.”

Kael’s gaze met his. Calm. Unflinching.

“If it runs dry and you keep pushing, it will drain your life force. You’ll still live. Just…maybe much less time than intended.”

Riley instinctively stepped back. “…Oh. That’s horrifying.”

Kael hummed faint agreement. “But preferable to dying outright.”

Riley wasn’t sure if that was a question or a threat.

Kael finally handed the case to him, almost like he was handing a bomb.

“This is the best fit,” Kael said flatly. “You’d shatter under anything stronger.”

“Wow,” Riley muttered. “Love the confidence boost.”

Kael ignored him, already sitting back down and writing.

“You’ll bring it to me once a week,” Kael said. “I’ll recharge it. You can’t do it yourself. You have no mana.”

“…”

Huh. How dependent. But it’s not like he could still complain about it.

Kael glanced up long enough to glare at him.

Riley shut his gaping mouth again.

He turned the case over in his hands. The Heartstone pulsed faintly through the metal, warm and alive, as if it already knew it was being trusted to someone far less qualified than it deserved.

Fine. If this was what it took to survive, he’d take it.

Riley looked up at Kael, who didn’t even glance his way, still scribbling across another document.

“Sir?”

Kael’s pen didn’t pause. “What?”

“Thanks.”

That earned him the faintest sound of acknowledgment.

And considering everything, that was probably a lot.

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