With a slight metallic clanking that was nevertheless clearly noticeable in the nighttime silence, the figure of the former dragon Aodhan crept through the streets of Schlucht.

  This stupid thing is rubbing my stupid human shoulders and breaking this matchstick of a spine, thought Aodhan as he repeatedly straightened the straps of his new backpack.

  He had taken it from the blacksmith's workshop, which fortunately for him was under cover outside the house. Without wasting much time, he had filled a small backpack lying around with all kinds of tools he could find there and made his way to the south gate.

  He could only hope that one of them would be able to open the lock there, which, as far as the gatekeeper's letter could be believed, was already damaged.

  However, too much had gone wrong in his life recently, so he took no chances and instead took an entire backpack.

  After some time, he finally reached the south gate. It was almost peaceful here compared to the north gate or the city center, he thought, as he saw the gate standing silently before him in the moonlight.

  If they had managed to break through, you would probably hear it all the way to Emmertal, so I still have some time, he thought, approaching the pedestrian passage. He was pleased to see that the lock and bolt had seen better days, and both had visible rust on them.

  Hopefully that would make things easier, he thought, and much to the relief of his back, he put down his backpack and began to rummage through it for a suitable tool.

  File, pliers, saw, maybe, ah, perfect, he mentally went through the tools before finally picking up the hammer.

  He knew theoretically the importance of the hammer for most two-legged creatures in terms of craftsmanship but had learned that the dwarves in particular were almost obsessed with hammers.

  A large proportion of the dwarf statues and stone images in his mountain almost always seemed to depict dwarves with a hammer.

  Admittedly, those had looked significantly longer than the one he was holding right now, and he doubted he could lift one of them with one hand or maybe even with two hands, but still.

  He appreciated that no matter what size, a hammer was, was still a hammer. The concept behind it always remained the same.

  Back when he took over the dwarven fortress, he had found a whole bunch of hammers in all shapes and sizes. Which of course proved useful for breaking up the stones that had blocked large areas of the complex then and still do today.

  In his wisdom, he had of course allowed his serfs to use his hammers instead of their hands to clear away the rubble.

  After all, he was results-oriented and not cruel.

  Satisfied by the weight of the hammer in his hand, he turned to the lock.

  With a wide swing, he struck hard. Once, twice, three times the dull clang rang out through the silent moonlit night.

  He struck again with all his strength and with a final clatter, the lock broke and fell splintered to the ground with a final clanking sound.

  I did it, I actually did it, it flashed through his mind.

  He hadn't felt so good since his unfortunate transformation. It seemed to him as if he had finally regained at least some control over his life.

  And all because he had smashed something with a hammer!

  I have clearly underestimated the old dwarven culture, he thought to himself with a grin.

  He looked thoughtfully at the backpack and the hammer in his hand. It was heavy, annoying and the human body was clearly not designed to carry such loads, but he still decided to take it and the other tools with him.

  Now that he experienced how useful tools could be for humans he decided that despite his aching back they were worth carrying around.

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  He also had to admit to himself that he had an inexplicably good feeling with the hammer in his hand.

  As a dragon, he couldn't swing a hammer. Of course there was no gate that could stop him as a dragon.

  However, holding the hammer and just hitting at his problems with it was probably the only positive experience he had had so far in this body.

  It would normally have been unnecessary for him to use something like tools, but as a dragon he had occasionally liked to play with his prey, which of course was also unnecessary. He wondered if that was the same thing?

  Lost in thought, he left Schlucht, only to stop again a few steps later.

  He realized that he had not yet thought about what he was going to do after his escape.

  He only knew the way to the other two surrounding villages, Emmerstal and Westfold, but they were still too close to Schlucht for him and wouldn't bring him any closer to his retransformation or the one responsible for his current predicament.

  I have no trace of the bastard. The only thing I have of him is this damn robe that makes me stand out everywhere and the mirror with my true form, which I also have to somehow get back from that bastard Bartold, he brooded angrily to himself.

  First, I need my mirror and then I have to find someone who knows about this kind of magic. Unfortunately, Bartold is right about that. If there is someone like that, I certainly won't find him here. And of course I need my treasure. If I just run off without my treasure, the mirror might as well break. Without my hoard I won’t be able to call myself a dragon any longer, he thought sullenly about his situation.

  Suddenly a cold shiver ran down his spine and he felt the blood drain from his face.

  What if Bartold had destroyed the mirror long ago or it had broken during the fight? In that case, my true form would already be irretrievably lost forever! A horrifying thought that he quickly pushed aside.

  Don't worry, Bartold is definitely not fighting on the front line, he is just yelling orders from a safe distance, and he wanted to sell the mirror, if I remember correctly. Besides, even if I don't know much about magic, I would have felt it if the mirror with my true form in it had broken, yes, of course I would somehow sense something like that, he calmed himself down.

  Escape, my treasure, the mirror, so damn much to do. What's the best way to proceed? Think Aodhan, but don't think like a human, think like a dragon…Yes, that's it! How could I have been so blind, the solution is so simple, I must have overlooked it because I started thinking like a human, but no longer. As a dragon, I know that of course my treasure, my gold, is the solution to all my problems! it suddenly flashed through his mind with the clarity of a polished coin.

  Bartold wants to sell the mirror, let him, I'll just buy it back through an intermediary. No, what do I think here, if I get my gold, I can just hire people to take care of Bartold and the other traitors for me and bring me the mirror back. Ha! Then a gang of lousy adventurers would be doing the dirty work for a dragon without even knowing it. Even the journey and finding and hiring people who can free me from my curse would no longer be a problem with my gold, because gold has the power to solve all of the world's problems! he mentally celebrated his ingenuity.

  If he were in his old body, he would have spat a small jet of fire into the sky, accompanied by a triumphant roar, but instead he limited himself to involuntarily punching the air in front of him.

  He didn't understand why exactly he did this, though; it just felt right at that moment. As if all the sudden joy and energy had to be let out somehow.

  He had always known that gold was valuable, simply because most other races were obsessed with it.

  Accordingly, like countless dragons before him, he had started hoarding it, simply because it was the birthright of all dragons to own the most valuable things in the world, even if, like countless dragons before him, he didn't fully understand why it was valuable.

  Of course, he knew that with money you could hire other people like his dragon men to work for you, but of course he didn't really need that.

  He simply liked the idea that he could own people who did what he said, and that they brought him extra gold was of course also welcome.

  But at the end of the day, his subordinates were as much a part of his hoard as the gold they brought him. As part of his hoard, it only made sense that he used his gold to equip them well, even if he found it a little annoying that his subordinates had gotten their equipment from djinn traders.

  Back then, gold had been entertaining for him, now he knew that it was essential to his life.

  Now I just have to snatch it away from under these traitors' noses. First, I'll sneak away from the city and watch from a distance how the attack is going, then I'll head up the mountain and get my hoard. Yes, I already have an idea how to sneak past the slaves and the last few guards there, Aodhan planned his next move and set off with a grin.

  The old historian who had told him about the abandoned dwarven fortress and its secrets in a vain attempt to save his life had also spoken of a hidden side passage that led directly to the central chamber.

  This was probably intended as an emergency tunnel and could be opened with a certain dwarven password.

  He had never done anything about this secret passage in his hoard, firstly because there was probably no one left who knew about it or knew the password, and secondly because he saw no reason to be afraid of something small enough to fit through this passage.

  Even though he now admitted, at least to himself, that it might be foolish to underestimate opponents simply because of their size, he couldn't help but grin at the irony that the dwarven word for dragon would soon lead him to his treasure.