The Fae Realm, during the Summer Dragon Festival

The dragons were everywhere. Intricate kites of metal foil and paper soared about the festival, their wings flapping in the breeze or controlled by more strings like a puppet. Dragon statues of all materials stood at each corner, carved from rare stone, or caste from bronze, silver, or gold. Chefs produced convections and cakes, with a dozen brownies needed to lift them from the ovens and serve them to hungry 'Dragon Hunters.' Wizards conjured phantasms or elementals from from fire, ice, and, animated wood. Everywhere in the Summer Festival of the High Fae were dragons....and no one really bothered to look at them, they'd seen them a hundred times before.

Except for two. Crowds were delighted to see that someone had brought two new dragons. One was made of sausage, a pile of meat over ten feet high, using carved bones for teeth and claws, and disturbingly realistic eyes from some monster. The lesser fae who had built it claimed it took seven barrels to make it. Each day, intrigued High Fae paid a fee to take a link from it as a meal or souvenir, and each night, the lesser fae running the sausage stand rebuilt it. "

The other was an artificers masterpiece, animated by hot air, flying above the stand and advertising the wares sold with a sign hanging from its belly. Each time it winked, yawned demurely, or wantonly waved it's tail, the audience clapped and some of the more conservative Fae grew red in the face. If a High Fae had created the dragon, it would have been hailed as a masterpiece, despite the heresy of showing a female dragon in heat. Many of the oldest Houses still had strong ties to the Draconik Court and took their dragons seriously.

One such was Duke Fintan of House Blackscale. As he was riding through the fair with his wife, four sons, and forty household retainers, he drew up suddenly, seeing the floating dragon that he swore turned and winked at him. The sight of the automaton brought a flush to his cheeks and rage in his heart. The dragon banners that followed him were a proud part of his heritage, harkening back twenty generations to the time when Argyle Half-Dragon founded his house. He had argued, (Unsuccessfully) that only his house should be allowed to use a dragon in its heraldry as only his house was sired by a true descendent of dragons. The High King had dismissed his claim several times, but he still persisted every seven-year when he was allowed to refile his complaint.

To see that part of the faire had been given to a ragtag group of brownies, goblins, and bogarts was bad enough. Like most of the Fae Realms, this was festival controlled by the High Fae, and while no laws forbid the lesser fae from setting up a cart, no one would ever have thought the Master of the Summer Faire would grant them a space. It made the use of the dragon even worse in his mind. But to see that these low-born scum were displaying such a lewd version of dragon hood as a sales tool was an insult to his house. His anger turned to black rage as he rode closer and saw the sausage dragon.

A smallish goblin with large, bare feet and a pirate's hat was standing on the counter where piles of cooked bacon, sausage, and a whole ham lay on wooden platters. His voice carried to the crowd. "That's right folks, we've got genuine imported meat products of many types for your enjoyment. Brought to you by the notorious Smoke Pirate, Captain Ozymandias. He prepared these treats himself and challenges everyone to try his tasty smoked sausage, sinfully smoked hell-ham, and incinerating hot burney-bacon!" A supposed portrait of the captain was painted on the side of the wagon, holding a ham in the air triumphantly, his booted foot on the head of a fallen foe that looked suspiciously like the late Duchess Silverthorn.

"Who's next to try a bite? But a little warning, the bacon is Dragon's Breath Hot, and not for the meek."

"You dare? I'll cut out your lying tongue." The Duke leaped from his horse, a glowing sword swinging through the air where the goblin had been standing, and ending up six inches deep in the hell-ham. Barney Blacktooth, the salesman, was suddenly on top of the wagon, waving and smiling. He was known for being fearless to the point of insanity, and quick enough to get himself out of the situations his mouth got him into.

"My tongue will taste a lot worse than that delicious ham you're slicing. You want that wrapped up or you eating it here?"

"I will be taking home nothing, except your head in basket. How dare you make mockery of a dragon like this?"

Barney carefully eyed the distance between himself and the glowing sword and decided he had room to run. "This wee lass? A cute one isn't she? Take her home for a small amount of gold, and a heaping amount of gems. It will go good with those banners of yours!"

What Duke Blackscale would have done next is open to speculation, but at that point, the Master of the Market arrived, horns blaring behind him as his heralds announce him and the crowds parted. His eyes took in the scene, and he controlled the small quaver in his voice, as he rescued the lesser fae for the third time today. It was going to be a long week.

"What transpires her, Duke Blackscale?"

"This lowborn merchant besmirches me house and my honor!"

Barney pointed. "He besmirched my ham! He has to pay for that!"

The Master snapped his fingers, and Barney decided to quit talking. Not so the Duke.

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"I demand these creatures be banished from the Market, and sent to the salt mines for their effrontery."

The Master considered his instructions, "Merchant Bartholomew, his wagon, and his disturbing dragons are allowed into this faire to honor an agreement between the High King and a mortal. There is nothing more to say, Duke Blackscale. It is allowed."

"What, preposterous! What did this mortal do? Beat the king at chess? Recuse a princess who gets lost each Tuesday? What strange boon did he do the high king that he is so rewarded?"

The Master sighed, "Duke Blackscale, have you seen Duchess Silverthorn today?"

"Of course not! She is dead, or so they say."

"And that is the boon the mortal delivered to the High King, along with other considerations. Be on your way, sir, and perhaps find a bard who knows the tale of Captain Ozymandias, and the purloined barmaid. It's a cautionary tale for all of us. Especially someone who wishes to interfere with his business."

He flipped a heavy, shining coin to Barney, "For your ham. I must ask, do you have much stock left?"

"Barrels and barrels, and we're making a killing. The captain will be happy. You'll be seeing us at every faire from now on."

With that, the Master sighed and left. His place was quickly taken by another High Fae Lord who pointed at the dragon, "How much, does it come in other colors? Can I get it bigger, with more winking and tail wags. Tart the damned thing up. Money is no object."

Barney grinned. This was his 4th special order of the day.

It was an early day for the Butcher. Or the same day, depending on how you looked at it.

Ozzy had so much to do that he skipped an hour of sleep and just kept working. He'd spent sixteen hours making sausage from wolves and scraps of meat from Gadobhra's butchering pens. Chainy and Joe had the smokehouse running hot, infusing the barrels with enough smoke and heat to cure the links hard enough to last for a decade or more. These would probably be eaten in the next month, but it was always good to do the job properly.

He spent the next six hours carefully cully the pens, selecting the critters with the best meat and tastiest parts. This meat was packed into barrels that Delbert chilled for him, before they went into his sack. Ozzy wasn't sure if Billy was keeping track at all about what went into the wagons that left Gadobhra by teleport, but just in case, he kept his own business a secret and resupplied his butcher shop in Wolfsburg with meat carried in in Hefty Bag. Most trips, it weighed as much as a wagon of sausage barrels did.

By skipping a nap and giving anyone a chance to find him, he was pulling his wagon through the streets of Wolfsburg before the sun came up. The mages in Wolfsburg eyed him cautiously, careful to keep their hands and eyes low. He waved to them and to the overly polite guards as he pulled his wagon through the town, Finally parking in front of a tavern that everyone else was ignoring. Entering, he found a dozen outrageously dressed adventurers having breakfast, or possibly a late dinner, based on the number of empty bottles on their tables. He was happy to be remembered, or at least recognized, with none of the problems of his earlier visit. Within five minutes of Doris greeting him and putting a steaming mug of coffee in front of him, he was enjoying a plate of a dozen eggs, and two apple pies, listening to the talk around him. Several people asked to join him, enquiring about the dungeons in Gadobhra. He smiled and gave them all the gory details he could, which only seemed to excite them more.

The next stop was a visit to a non-descript warehouse where two halflings let him in and quickly shut the door. "Welcome back, Captain. We've been working hard on those orders. The market for inflatable dragons is crazy right now, even if it is a discrete one. I have no idea where you find all your buyers."

Ozzy grinned. "Let's just say that some nobles who come from old families have a bit too much gold and inbreeding. They like odd things. But I like their gold."

The gathered halflings all nodded, "We do too, and are happy to have you as our exclusive seller of Habersham's Inflatable and Reusable Draconic Balloons. If you'll step this way, I can show you the improvements we've made in your special order. It's our best dragon yet. I'm sure your customer will be pleased."

With a half dozen dragons in his bag along with their furnaces, Ozzy was on his way and arriving at his butcher shop by noon. Vassily's daughters, Polina and Daria saw him coming through the front window and yelled for their husbands to open the large doors. Ozzy rolled his wagon in, and then began pulling the barrels of meat for the butcher shop from his bag. Polina went to an upper window and unrolled a banner from it. People who saw began to line up outside, Vassily in the front, who had hurried over from his eatery.

"Whenever you bring a new shipment, the locals want to know. we have a dozen restaurants in town who buy from us. No one has every had a shop like this, selling fresh meat from such ferocious creatures. The banner lets them know when we have fresh meat."

Ozzy liked the banner. A cleaver and a pile of sausage under it. Easy to understand. "Well, let's get started then. I want to see how you all handle this part. My little shop in Sedgewick never gets this much business." He was looking out the window as a troop of soldiers rode up at the gallop and began dismounting. "And it looks like things just got even busier."