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Saving Azeroth (By Stealing the Black Dragon Princess) - 9
🕑 Added 2025-10-12 13:46:25 +0000 UTCChapter 9: Chromie's Venture Capital
When Deren emerged from his room the next morning, Chromie was sprawled across the table studying explosion formulas with intense concentration while Onyxia leaned by the window, fingertips toying with a strand of black flame that danced between her fingers.
"Morning, you two." Deren yawned lazily in greeting, stretching his arms overhead.
Chromie waved without looking up from her calculations. "Morning... wait!" She jerked her head up so fast her pigtails whipped around. The gnome's large eyes went round as saucers. "You... who are you?!"
Onyxia's dragon eyes suddenly contracted, black flame extinguishing with a soft hiss. She stared fixedly at Deren as if truly seeing this human for the first time, nostrils flaring slightly.
Deren tilted his head in confusion. "What is wrong? One night's sleep and you do not recognize me?"
Chromie jumped from her chair with surprising agility, circling Deren twice like a hound tracking scent, her nose twitching. "Something is different... very different..."
Onyxia slowly approached with predatory grace, slender fingers suddenly grasping Deren's chin and forcing him to look up. Her dragon eyes glowed faintly, seemingly examining him with some innate draconic perception that pierced beyond mere flesh.
"You..." Her voice was low and dangerous, carrying that distinctive draconic resonance. "Have something on you. Something powerful."
Deren sighed helplessly, gently pushing away her hand with careful deliberation, then—
Pointed directly at the ground beneath his feet.
The two dragons: "...?"
Deren made a sharp shushing gesture, again pointing emphatically downward at the earth itself.
Chromie and Onyxia exchanged glances, first bewildered, then pupils simultaneously dilating with sudden comprehension—
Azeroth herself!
Inside the room, three individuals—or rather, one human and two dragons—tacitly avoided mentioning a certain unspeakable existence whose presence now hung in the air like incense.
Onyxia stood by the fireplace with aristocratic poise, fingertips igniting a carefully controlled strand of black flame, precisely regulating the heat to brew tea. Her movements were elegant and practiced, like a true noble lady hosting a salon rather than a Black Dragon Princess capable of incinerating entire cities. Water in the ornate teapot bubbled gently, releasing fragrant steam.
Chromie sat cross-legged on the sofa, short legs dangling well above the floor, swaying idly like a child's would. She reached into a temporal rift that shimmered bronze beside her and pulled out an exquisite pastry box decorated with intricate Highborne patterns. Opening the lid with a theatrical flourish, she revealed dozens of star-glittering confections neatly arranged inside, each one pulsing with faint magical luminescence.
"Caverns of Time exclusive!" She declared proudly, puffing out her small chest. "Acquired from Suramar ten thousand years ago."
Deren leaned over with undisguised curiosity, poking one pastry experimentally—the surface immediately rippled with temporal waves that spread like water.
"Eating this will not cause time travel, will it?" he half-joked, pulling his finger back quickly.
Chromie rolled her eyes dramatically. "At most you will temporarily perceive events from the past ten minutes—harmless really. Oh, except this one." She pointed to a deep purple confection nestled in the corner. "This one came from Queen Azshara's private afternoon tea service. Eating it might cause tentacle growth. Minor side effect."
Onyxia approached carrying an elegant tea service, her dragon tail inadvertently sweeping Deren's shin with moderate force—like a warning yet also oddly playful. She poured tea for each person with precise, practiced movements. The brew presented an eerie dark red color, its surface floating with what resembled microscopic dragon scale crystals that caught the light.
"Drink," she narrowed her eyes with faint amusement, "excellent for lung health after inhaling all that smoke."
Deren stared dubiously at the teacup, then at Chromie's suspicious pastries, suddenly feeling his fertilizer experiments actually seemed extraordinarily safe by comparison.
The three quietly enjoyed tea and snacks, the atmosphere bizarrely harmonious—almost domestic. Until—
Deren set down his teacup with a deliberate clink, clearing his throat. "Alright, let us discuss business."
He pulled a crumpled list from his pocket, the parchment densely filled with procurement items written in hurried script: ammonium nitrate raw materials, sulfur, aluminum powder, specialized containment vessels... The bottom noted an estimated cost in bold lettering—a figure sufficient to purchase half of Stormwind's merchant district.
Chromie's pastry dropped onto her lap with a soft plop. "Are you completely insane?!"
Onyxia's dragon eyes contracted slightly as she read over his shoulder. "My treasury is nearly depleted already."
Deren revealed a harmless, almost innocent smile. "So, we need a new investor." His gaze slowly, deliberately shifted toward Chromie. "For instance, a certain bronze dragon who manages temporal finances?"
Chromie clutched her hourglass staff tightly with both hands, ready to flee through a temporal rift at a moment's notice, her small face scrunching defensively. "Impossible! Absolutely impossible!"
She glared at Deren with unexpected fierceness, golden pigtails bristling indignantly. "Do you understand how difficult it is to accumulate the Caverns of Time treasury?! Those gold coins have been accumulating for ten thousand years!"
Deren sighed with exaggerated disappointment, turning to Onyxia. "Your sister is remarkably stingy."
Onyxia sneered coldly, though her lips twitched with suppressed amusement. "She is not my sister."
Chromie: "Who is your sister?!"
Deren spread his hands innocently. "See? Such deep sisterly affection."
Both dragons simultaneously glared at him with genuine menace, draconic aura nearly lifting the roof tiles.
Deren calmly retrieved a flat stone, charcoal in hand, and began sketching a crude flowchart with surprising artistic flair:
Invest in ammonium nitrate → Eliminate Deathwing → World peace achieved.
World peace → Bronze dragons no overtime → Chromie enjoys vacation daily.
Chromie stared at the slate, mouth twitching uncontrollably. "Do you think I am a three-year-old whelp? Such simplistic logic cannot possibly—"
Deren suddenly snapped his fingers with dramatic timing. "Imagine your future self."
His voice lowered, carrying a strange hypnotic cadence that seemed to resonate with temporal magic itself. "No timeline rifts requiring repair, no doomsday prophecies demanding constant monitoring, no heroes requiring cryptic guidance at three in the morning..."
Chromie's pupils dilated slightly, bronze light flickering in their depths.
"Only sunshine, pristine beaches, perfectly grilled fish..." Deren continued softly, painting the vision with words. "And endless fine wine with absolutely no responsibilities!"
At that precise instant—
Chromie's hourglass staff suddenly vibrated violently, temporal sand flowing in chaotic torrents. Her eyes blazed with pure bronze radiance as countless future fragments flooded her consciousness like a tidal wave:
Herself sunbathing luxuriously on Tanaris beaches, surrounded by dwarven mead bottles
Nozdormu unprecedentedly granting her a thousand-year paid vacation
An indistinct human figure holding her tenderly while hand-feeding grilled fish...
"Thud!"
Chromie's legs gave out completely, collapsing directly onto the floor. Her staff clattered beside her with a discordant chime. Her lips trembled uncontrollably, a thin line of drool trickling from the corner of her mouth. Golden light from prophetic visions remained burning in her unfocused eyes. Her entire being resembled a malfunctioning automaton, her throat continuously emitting foolish "hehehe" giggles that bordered on disturbing.
Onyxia raised an eyebrow with aristocratic disdain. "Seems she witnessed something extraordinary."
Deren crouched down with a knowing smile, waving his hand before Chromie's glazed eyes. "How about it? Is this investment worthwhile or not?"
Chromie mechanically turned her head with jerky movements, suddenly grabbing Deren's collar with surprising strength. "How much do you need?!"
Her eyes shone frighteningly bright, like a starving wolf spotting defenseless prey.
Several hours later, Chromie stood in the center of Booty Bay's stone house, small hand gesturing with theatrical flourish—
"Crash—!"
A massive bronze temporal rift tore open in midair above them. Immediately after, countless gold coins, precious gems, and legendary magical equipment cascaded down like a metallic waterfall, instantly piling into a glittering mountain that reached the ceiling.
Deren's jaw slowly dropped, hanging open in undisguised shock.
Onyxia's dragon eyes contracted sharply, fingertips unconsciously caressing an ancient elven gold coin that had rolled by her feet—a minting style at least eight thousand years extinct.
"This..." Deren bent to retrieve a dagger radiating with arcane luminescence, intricate runes crawling across its surface. "This is a genuine Highborne artifact from before the Sundering?!"
Chromie proudly raised her small chin, practically glowing with satisfaction. "Precisely. I acquired it from Dath'Remar Sunstrider's private vault." She kicked carelessly at the gold coin pile at her feet, sending them scattering with musical chimes. "These are coins from the Arathor Empire period. Fewer than one hundred specimens exist in all of Azeroth currently."
Deren stared at the warehouse full of priceless treasure, suddenly feeling like the poorest beggar in existence.
Chromie squatted atop the coin pile like a dragon guarding her hoard, counting with worried concentration. "Thirty thousand, thirty-five thousand, forty thousand..." She looked up at Deren with genuine concern. "Is this sufficient?"
Deren's throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. "Enough to purchase the entire Booty Bay port... twice over."
Onyxia suddenly laughed with dark amusement, dragon claw hooking out an exquisite necklace embedded with temporal sand crystals from deep within the treasure pile. "I remember this particular piece." Her gaze grew dangerously sharp. "The 'Tear of Aman'Thul' that mysteriously vanished from Wyrmrest Temple three thousand years ago."
Chromie's small face paled instantly, snatching the necklace and shoving it hastily back into the temporal rift. "You saw wrong! That is obviously a replica!"
Deren rubbed his forehead wearily. "So bronze dragons' sacred duty of guarding timelines actually translates to pilfering artifacts across history?"
"This is called historical artifact preservation!" Chromie defended with indignant passion. "They would be destroyed by wars or natural disasters anyway if left in their original timelines. Far better to let me—"
"Keep them for safekeeping?" Onyxia raised an eyebrow, lips curved in wicked amusement.
Chromie: "Exactly!"
After three exhausting hours of careful inventory, the final tally made Deren's legs weak with disbelief:
Gold coins: 478,000 (spanning currencies from seven lost civilizations)
Magical gems: 322 pieces (including three suspected Titan power cores)
Epic equipment: 54 pieces (twelve of which historical records explicitly stated were destroyed)
Miscellaneous treasures: Including but not limited to Queen Azshara's personal comb, Medivh's backup staff, and one small vial labeled in precise script "Prince Arthas's Childhood Baby Teeth"
Chromie clutched her final treasure heartbrokenly—a delicate night elven music box that played haunting melodies. "This one absolutely cannot be sold! This was Tyrande Whisperwind's childhood toy!"
Deren: "You even acquired that?!"
Chromie stamped her foot. "I said it is preservation, not theft!"
"Store it away, store it all away! From this moment, you are officially my chief financial officer." Deren bent to pat Chromie's small shoulder with genuine approval. Then he stroked his chin with calculating expression. "Perhaps we do not necessarily require this entire sum immediately. Knowledge is wealth, after all. Maybe we can recruit additional investors with strategic marketing."
Watching Deren contemplating methods to extract funding from wealthy marks, the two female dragons suddenly felt incredibly fortunate to be allied with him rather than targeted by his schemes.
Morning sunlight spilled golden across the stone house exterior. A brand-new copper sign gleamed brilliantly in the dawn light, freshly polished:
「Barrens Agricultural Development Company · Booty Bay Branch」
Main Services: High-Efficiency Fertilizer | Soil Enhancement | Pest Control (Physical Methods)
Onyxia crossed her arms, staring at the sign with narrowed dragon eyes. "'Pest Control via Physical Methods'?"
Deren dusted sawdust from his hands with satisfaction, nodding approvingly at his handiwork. "Literal meaning—solving pest problems through direct physical application." He made an enthusiastic explosion gesture with both hands. "Boom! Problem eliminated completely."
Chromie stood on tiptoe, attempting unsuccessfully to wipe goblin graffiti from the sign's corner—a crooked fertilizer pile drawing rendered in charcoal. "I still cannot believe we are genuinely opening a commercial enterprise..."
"This is called operational cover." Deren produced an official-looking stamp from his pocket, pressing "Grand Opening—Special Discounts!" onto the door frame. "Now we can openly procure raw materials without suspicion. Goblins will simply assume we are agricultural entrepreneurs with more money than sense."
Inside, Deren spread the regional map across the table, finger tapping Dustwallow Marsh with deliberate emphasis. "Now that funding is secured and material supply channels established, it is time to relocate the production facility to your lair."
Onyxia's tail tapped the floor with a nervous rhythm. "The risk remains substantial. If discovered by my father's minions—"
"No problem whatsoever. We are a legitimate agricultural company. All materials and production processes relate directly to fertilizer manufacturing. Do you honestly believe your family's subordinates possess the intelligence to perceive fertilizer's ultimate application? Would they willingly investigate foul-smelling ammonia water production? Or perhaps volunteer to taste-test ammonium nitrate for quality control?" Deren spoke with utter contempt.
Remembering the horrifying ammonia water synthesis process, the black dragon shook her head vigorously like a child refusing medicine.
"However, materials must transit through Theramore first." Deren interrupted her relief, his finger tracing a shipping route across the map. "All materials ship initially to Jaina Proudmoore's territory, then we devise methods to transport them into the marsh covertly." He looked meaningfully at Chromie. "This requires our chief financial officer's direct involvement."
Chromie pouted with exaggerated displeasure. "Why must I negotiate with those reeking goblin merchants?"
"Because you can open temporal rifts to escape instantly if negotiations deteriorate. More importantly—" Deren paused for effect. "Theramore is governed by Lady Jaina Proudmoore herself. She harbors deep suspicion toward black dragons and regards vagrant humans like myself with even greater disdain." He shook a heavy bag of gold coins enticingly. "Moreover—full company expense account. Full reimbursement for all business-related costs."
Chromie's pointed ears perked up instantly at those magical words.
Ten minutes later, a "Miss Chromie" wearing round-framed glasses and refined gnomish formal business attire emerged transformed. She tugged awkwardly at her restrictive collar. "These clothes are suffocating..."
Onyxia circled her with critical examination, suddenly reaching out to pinch her cheeks experimentally. "Add an insincere smile, and you will perfectly resemble a merchant profiteer."
"Ow! Release me!" Chromie slapped away the offending claw, huffily retrieving a leather-bound ledger. "I am a proper chief financial officer!" She adjusted her glasses with professional dignity, suddenly switching to a saccharine business smile that could sweeten tea. "Dear Mister Goblin, regarding last month's outstanding payment..."
Deren and Onyxia simultaneously retreated a cautious step—this acting was far too realistic, sending chills down their spines.
