Fifteen dragons you’d spoken with, and fifteen dragons had rejected you as their rider.

You knew you were skilled, that wasn’t the problem. You’d practiced on your parents’ dragons, raised like any other young rider was. If anything, you showed particular promise for your clan to be chosen by a powerful dragon.

But ever since you set off on your rite to find a mount, you faced rejection after rejection. The seaside city of Westerly was your last hope. You’d heard rumors of a dragon who lived in the area, which struck you as strange seeing as the region wasn’t at all mountainous. There was no place for the usual dragon lair, no frequently flown paths overhead, and no nearby mating grounds. But running out of options, you went regardless, landing you in the bustling port where your cloak, boots, and clinking harnesses made you stand out among the light summery garb of the locals.

After asking around about dragon sightings, you were pointed in the same direction by everyone you asked. Cresting a cobbled hill, you approached the outdoor seating for a small tavern. Wooden tables and chairs scattered a mostly deserted patio where a few patrons sat in the dappled sunlight. You were expecting to meet an adventurer at the tavern, or perhaps a commissioner who knew of the dragon’s whereabouts.

What you weren’t expecting was the dragon himself. Looking almost bored, the regal white dragon in human form rested his chin on his hand as he watched the people pass.

He smiled lazily at the waitress when she walked by, even engaging in friendly chit chat with her. You knew dragons to find humans troublesome, or not worth their time. Many only found companionship in their riders and only after extensive criteria met and trust built. So it was fascinating to see this dragon, not only in human form, but willingly engaging in human affairs.

You approached the dragon’s table, but before you could say anything, he held up a hand to stop you.

“I’m not interested in a rider, thank you. Save your speech. And no this is not a ‘test’.” Aster’s voice was low and smooth, the usual draconic accent barely lingering on his tongue.