Chapter 1: A Sleepy Mountain Town
Jacob arrived in the sleepy mountain town around midday. It was a quiet place with streets far apart from one another, the kind of place where traffic was five cars on the same street at the same time. It had a few tourist attractions for the road-tripper: a mining museum from when the mines in the nearby mountains were actually active, a railroad museum describing how the town had transformed from an outpost into a full-fledged town after the railroad came through, and even a wine-tasting room, though there were no local vineyards to speak of.
Having come to this town time and again over the years, Jacob learned that the only people that went and visited those places were tourists; the locals had zero interest in any of it. If anything, they went two streets over to the only active bar in town. The hotel that Jacob and the others were staying in had a restaurant and bar attached to the lobby, but Jacob liked to mingle with the common folk. The others always liked to make fun of him for it, calling it slumming, but Jacob thought it kept him ground. It helped him remember why he did all of this.
Jacob and twelve others were some of the richest people in the country. That much was known, and it provided a decent cover for why they came to this town to do business. They needed a quiet place to meet and talk, a place that appreciated discretion. A town as small as this could use all the money it could get its dirt-stained hands on, so they were always more than willing to accommodate them without a word to the papers.
The truth of the matter, however, was that Jacob on the others weren’t human. At least, not entirely. They were dragon shifters hundreds of years old. Every twenty-five years the clans sent a representative to negotiate for the next quarter century. Trade agreements were made, territory lines were drawn, and sometimes wars were declared.
Then again, sometimes wars were settled. Known simply as The Negotiations, it was a time for each of the clans to touch base with one another, assess each other’s strength, and decide the best course of action. The thirteen men staying in that hotel were not the richest in the country by accident. If there was one thing dragons knew how to do, it was accumulate wealth.
After checking into the hotel, Jacob settled in, showered, dressed himself casually, and went for a walk.
The town, tired as it was, shifted every twenty-five years like the leaves of autumn. They were always trying to pull in new money. Residents started businesses, sold businesses, or just lost everything. New stores were up now in buildings that had been vacant before, while others that had stood the test of time were now boarded up with enough dust and cobwebs to make any abandoned cartoon mansion jealous. The Negotiations would begin tomorrow.
For now, he felt like a drink. Avoiding the bar in the hotel, Jacob went to the single functioning bar in town. The other shifters wouldn’t be caught dead there, which was a major part of its draw. After spending hours – days – with those folk, the last thing he wanted to do was spend more time in their company, even if alcohol was involved.
Jacob strolled down the street, soaking up the chill evening breeze coming down from the mountaintops. Summer was ending, but that meant little at this elevation. The bar door was open to let some of the fresh night air in. From half a block away, he could hear the jukebox playing and the locals inside laughing and talking with one another. It wasn’t a party place, but it was always lively. Being around humans always filled Jacob with a calming sense of purpose, and the natives were especially good people. He would make sure they were taken care of.
Jacob walked into the establishment, excusing himself as he maneuvered through tight crowds of people all talking to themselves. Laughing a little to himself as he pushed his way through the throng, he finally found an empty stool at
Jacob arrived in the sleepy mountain town around midday. It was a quiet place with streets far apart from one another, the kind of place where traffic was five cars on the same street at the same time. It had a few tourist attractions for the road-tripper: a mining museum from when the mines in the nearby mountains were actually active, a railroad museum describing how the town had transformed from an outpost into a full-fledged town after the railroad came through, and even a wine-tasting room, though there were no local vineyards to speak of.
Having come to this town time and again over the years, Jacob learned that the only people that went and visited those places were tourists; the locals had zero interest in any of it. If anything, they went two streets over to the only active bar in town. The hotel that Jacob and the others were staying in had a restaurant and bar attached to the lobby, but Jacob liked to mingle with the common folk. The others always liked to make fun of him for it, calling it slumming, but Jacob thought it kept him ground. It helped him remember why he did all of this.
Jacob and twelve others were some of the richest people in the country. That much was known, and it provided a decent cover for why they came to this town to do business. They needed a quiet place to meet and talk, a place that appreciated discretion. A town as small as this could use all the money it could get its dirt-stained hands on, so they were always more than willing to accommodate them without a word to the papers.
The truth of the matter, however, was that Jacob on the others weren’t human. At least, not entirely. They were dragon shifters hundreds of years old. Every twenty-five years the clans sent a representative to negotiate for the next quarter century. Trade agreements were made, territory lines were drawn, and sometimes wars were declared.
Then again, sometimes wars were settled. Known simply as The Negotiations, it was a time for each of the clans to touch base with one another, assess each other’s strength, and decide the best course of action. The thirteen men staying in that hotel were not the richest in the country by accident. If there was one thing dragons knew how to do, it was accumulate wealth.
After checking into the hotel, Jacob settled in, showered, dressed himself casually, and went for a walk.
The town, tired as it was, shifted every twenty-five years like the leaves of autumn. They were always trying to pull in new money. Residents started businesses, sold businesses, or just lost everything. New stores were up now in buildings that had been vacant before, while others that had stood the test of time were now boarded up with enough dust and cobwebs to make any abandoned cartoon mansion jealous. The Negotiations would begin tomorrow.
For now, he felt like a drink. Avoiding the bar in the hotel, Jacob went to the single functioning bar in town. The other shifters wouldn’t be caught dead there, which was a major part of its draw. After spending hours – days – with those folk, the last thing he wanted to do was spend more time in their company, even if alcohol was involved.
Jacob strolled down the street, soaking up the chill evening breeze coming down from the mountaintops. Summer was ending, but that meant little at this elevation. The bar door was open to let some of the fresh night air in. From half a block away, he could hear the jukebox playing and the locals inside laughing and talking with one another. It wasn’t a party place, but it was always lively. Being around humans always filled Jacob with a calming sense of purpose, and the natives were especially good people. He would make sure they were taken care of.
Jacob walked into the establishment, excusing himself as he maneuvered through tight crowds of people all talking to themselves. Laughing a little to himself as he pushed his way through the throng, he finally found an empty stool at
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