Dragon Core: The Dragon-Girl Evolution & Princess-Collecting Dungeon Core Isekai LITRPG! (+ Comic!)

The line formed in the great, central hall.

A row of women stood in a line along the eastern wall, arranged by no particular order except the one that had emerged on its own over the weeks, with the veterans at the front and the newcomers at the back. Goblins moved along the far edges of the room, wisely keeping their distance from whatever was about to happen. The morning steam had cleared an hour ago, and the mountain was awake, and at the centre of the hall stood the dragon queen with a scroll in one claw.

"Roll call!" growled a dense, heavy voice.

"This is demeaning," said Veliah. "Do we really need to do this?"

"You're the one who got kidnapped by pirates," replied Barjuchne, looking up from the scroll at her. The line had formed at her command and she intended to use it. "Now I have insecurity issues. Veliah."

"Here," sighed Veliah, rolling her eyes.

An angry chittering. "Excuse me. Pardon me. I believe that I am first, obviously," said an annoyed voice. Ei, the ant princess. "And I," she began, looking at Veliah, annoyed. "Am here. As I was first and always will be after the last of you are gone."

"Rou-ya."

"Here," said the goblin princess, raising her hand. She kept it raised. She waited, her golden eyes fixed on the dragon with the patient intensity of someone who had a question she was not going to ask out loud.

Barjuchne's gaze flicked to her. "I didn't forget that tonight is our date night."

Rou-ya smiled and put her hand down again, entirely satisfied.

The ‘date nights’ had become a necessity. There were too many of them now, princesses. Once, she had simply been among them, and time had distributed itself naturally through the days. But the collection had grown, and the territory had grown, and a dragon who governed a nation could no longer drift through her evenings assuming everyone had gotten their share of her. So she had organised it. Each princess received one dedicated night in a cycle, hers alone, guaranteed, scheduled. It was the most draconic solution available to a draconic problem, and the princesses had taken to it with a competitiveness that surprised no one.

"F.P.," said Barjuchne, moving along the line.

"I am abound, as always," said the fairy, perched on a raised stone at exactly the height that allowed her to meet everyone's gaze at eye level.

"Looking good on those princess points. I'd say you're almost ready to graduate from the system."

"This juvenile infantification of the royal princess of an entire species is absurd," snapped F.P., crossing her arms. Her wings buzzed once with indignation.

Barjuchne looked to her left. Then to her right, back down the length of the line, at the elves and goblins and slimes and priestesses. Then back at F.P. "Well, I don't see any other fairies, Miss Fairy Princess. So that does diminish the value of your crown."

"Whose fault is that?!"

"Not mine," replied Barjuchne indifferently, already moving on.

"If she doesn't want her date night tomorrow, I'll take it," said Veliah, from the front of the line.

"Like hell you will!" F.P. was on her feet on the stone. "Barjuchne and I have great matters of importance to discuss."

Barjuchne walked on. Blibli bounced in place, her whole body rippling with each bounce, her googly eyes orbiting happily.

"Here!" said the slime, before her name had been called. Then she bounced again. "Here! Here!"

The twin saintesses stood next in the line, shoulder to shoulder, their white robes identical, their circlets catching the hall's light. Barjuchne stopped in front of them and tilted her head. Something about them had shifted, and it took her a moment to place it.

"You two seem... different."

"I am happy that your tail is back," said one of them.

"And the wings too," said the other.

They both raised a hand at the same time. "Here."

They were smiling. That was odd.

Barjuchne looked at them for a long moment. Then she squinted.

"You know, this is awkward, but I don't actually know your names?" asked the dragon.

The hall went quiet. The entire line turned to look from both directions.

The twin saintesses looked at each other. A whole conversation passed between them in the space of a glance. Then they turned back to her and answered together.

"'Yours.'"

The word landed in the middle of the hall and stayed there.

Barjuchne stared at them, a churning twisting inside of her draconic heart.

"That was the right answer. You get two date nights just for that," she said, very pleased.

Usually the saintesses insisted on sharing their day together, even if she offered to give them each alone time.

The protest was immediate. Veliah's voice led it, Rou-ya's joined, and Bruschetta's pitched above both. Barjuchne silenced the line with a single raised claw, and the protest died in the collective throat.

She moved on.

Next in the line stood the royal princess Schmand, and Schmand was absolutely fuming. Her arms were crossed so tightly her knuckles had gone white. Her posture was a plank. Her cheeks were puffed out so far they looked ready to burst, and her eyes were fixed on the middle distance with the burning resentment of someone who had been placed in the middle of the line, in the middle, and was expected to simply endure it despite the fact that she was clearly meant to be outside of it.

Barjuchne leaned in. She lifted one claw and poked Schmand's cheek.

The air went out.

"HERE!" yelled Schmand, at a volume that rattled a candle two rooms away.

She went back to fuming.

"Good girl."

"Hey! That's our thing!" protested Rou-ya from the front of the line.

"I'm a good girl too!" said Blibli, chiming up.

"Damn right," replied Barjuchne, and walked on.

Bruschetta stood next, her hands clasped in front of her, vibrating slightly. The illness had thinned her, but the healing had filled her back out, and now she watched the dragon approach with such excitement that she was actually tapping on her feet up and down.

"How am I supposed to wait this long?!" she demanded, fists clenched. "I'm literally dying!"

"Don't exaggerate," replied Barjuchne. “I healed you just yesterday.”

"One date a night isn't enough! If you did two a day, it would be faster!" said Bruschetta.

Murmurs of vague approval moved down the line. Several heads nodded. The murmuring built.

"Question," said a voice from the end of the line.

The line turned to look.

Ead stood at the very back, next to a newcomer, adjusting her wide-brimmed hat. She lifted her hand toward Barjuchne. “Ah. P-Present," she said. Then she looked sideways at the woman beside her, at the fire-red hair, at the armour that had not been there last week. "Who is... this?"

"Someone else who is making me wait longer for my next turn," grumbled Veliah, from the front.

"Stop always being jealous, Veliah," said Rou-ya. "You're better than that."

Veliah muttered and looked away.

"Hello!" The newcomer lifted her hand and waved at the entire line with the cheerful confidence of someone who had no idea what she was walking into. "I'm the evil dragon knight, Edelgard."

"Everyone, Edelgard. Edelgard, everyone," said Barjuchne, waving a claw between the two parties with the flat delivery of someone introducing yet another piece to her collection, as if it were an everyday administrative affair.

"Is this your harem?" asked Edelgard, excited.

"Actually, these are her wives," explained Ead, matter-of-factly. She pushed up her hat and assumed her lecturing posture. "It is in the nature of a dragon to—"

"Ead isn't officially married to Barjuchne yet," interrupted Bruschetta, loud enough to carry. "She never sealed the deal. So I vote she doesn't get a date night."

Murmurs of agreement ran down the line.

Ead stiffened. Colour flooded her face from collar to hairline. "Now w-wait just a moment!" she protested, addressing the wall, the floor, the far goblins, and anyone except the line. She never was good at eye contact. "Our regular interview sessions are imperative in order to properly assess—"

She grabbed the edge of her hat and pulled it down over her eyes. "I- I am a scholar. I obviously have no interest in the r-rituals of courtshi- I mean. It's not that I—"

Barjuchne put her hand on Ead's head, beneath the brim of the hat, and tilted her face up. The scholar's eyes were wide and scrambling. Barjuchne gathered her hair in one claw, tilted her head back, and pressed her lips to hers.

Ead jolted. Her hands spasmed at her sides, fingers splaying, her whole body registering the shock before her mind caught up. Barjuchne's hands held her neck and her hair, firm, and held her in place while the kiss deepened. Ead's resistance lasted two full seconds. Then her hands found the front of Barjuchne's vest, gripped it, and her tongue found a rhythm to follow.

The line watched in complete silence.

Barjuchne pulled back. She held the red-faced, panting scholar by the hair and turned to address the rest of them.

"There. Ead is getting her date night, like always," she announced, overriding the immediate noise. "Stop squabbling, all of you. The next one trying to sabotage someone else loses their dates for a month."

Quiet. Total, full silence.

She let go of Ead's hair and looked back down at her. One claw stroked slowly along her burning cheek.

"I'll have something new to teach you in a week," said the dragon.

Ead did not have the capacity to form a reply. She produced a series of sounds, none of which were words, and gripped her hat over her face.

"Hot!" said Edelgard, at the back. "This world is the best." She nodded to herself, deeply satisfied with her career decisions. Then she raised her hand again. "So, when do we start killing people? Do we have a torture chamber?"

"...What nation are you the princess of, again?" asked Rou-ya, from the front.

"Oh, no, I'm not a princess," said Edelgard. "I told you. I'm the evil dragon knight."

"She's the true hero," said Barjuchne, waving it off, a small detail, a rounding error. "I summoned her with some dumb bell or something like that. But she has issues and wants to be a villain instead."

The line broke into anarchy.

The sound of it was a hive cracking open. Rou-ya was yelling something about divine retribution. F.P. was on her feet demanding the summoning records. The saintesses said something in unison that nobody caught. Veliah was shouting. Schmand was shouting louder. Blibli screamed just to be a part of it.

"Settle down," sighed Barjuchne. "She's cool. Right?"

They were all such worry-warts.

"Like a cucumber," replied Edelgard, crossing her arms and smiling contentedly. She looked at the dragon girl and laughed. "You're funny, Bee." A nickname, minted on the spot, immediately permanent. Then she leaned in and lowered her voice. "Ah. Question! Do I get a kiss too, and can you... you know?"

Barjuchne looked at her, not sure what she wanted.

Edelgard covered the side of her mouth and leaned closer. "Change back into a dragon-dragon first?"

Barjuchne stared at her.

Then, silently, she put a hand on the hero's shoulder and nodded.

Edelgard pumped her fist and mouthed a silent, eager yes.

"Can we talk about this?!" shouted Veliah, over everything. "You can't just keep dragging random women home! It's dangerous! Our eggs are here!"

"Eggs?" asked Edelgard. "Is this, like, an alien implantation scenario?"

"What is she talki—" started Bruschetta.

"Roll call is over!" interjected Barjuchne, waving the entire line away with both arms. "Everyone back to your duties. Ah, Ead. Hey. Ead." She snapped her claws in front of the scholar's face. Nothing. She snapped again, closer.

Ead blinked back into the present, dazed.

"Go show Edelgard around. But keep her away from the prison."

"I knew you had one!" said Edelgard.

Veliah stood there, gesturing with both hands up by her head that she was frustrated with her. Barjuchne waved her fingers for her to get going. The elf rolled her eyes and walked off with Rou-ya. Barjuchne watched them all go, the hall emptying out in clusters of grumbling princesses, and sighed. It was a contented sigh, the sigh of a dragon whose hoard was accounted for.

"...'Random women'," she repeated in a mutter, tsking and shaking her head.

It was an almost offensive accusation.

"As if. Everyone I bring back here, I bring back for a good reason. I love all of my princesses just the same. Besides, I'm running a whole nation here. I need help with all of that sometimes." She straightened her chest. "Obviously. Right? I have a lot to deal with here."

She looked back behind herself.

The royal maid stood there quietly, her hands folded in front of her black dress, having waited through the entire roll call without moving or speaking. Barjuchne had taken her back home from the nation’s royal palace, together with Schmand.

"Yes, great Queen Barjuchne," said the maid, bowing her head. "It's very hard, bearing the weight of such tremendous responsibility."

"Right? They don't get it. They're just princesses. I spoil them, honestly."

"Yes, great Queen Barjuchne," replied the maid. "Your magnanimousness is evident. We should all be so lucky to experience it."

Barjuchne stared at the maid.

The maid stared back, her face perfectly composed, her tone perfectly even.

"I have a special job for you, if you want it," said the dragon, approaching her.

The maid curtsied. "It is my pleasure to serve her Grand Majesty in any way I can."

Barjuchne put her hand on the wall, leaning in toward her. She looked down at the maid. "How good are you at long, slow, repeating motions?"

The maid stammered. She swiped a strand of hair out of her face, and for one second her professionalism buckled at the knees. Then she rebuilt it, brick by brick, and stood straight again. "I... am a highly adaptable learner."

Barjuchne stood back upright and hit her own forehead with the flat of her palm.

"Man. I should've gotten maids earlier. I knew this place was missing something." She eyed the black dress, the frills, and the clean lines of it, and her mind ran ahead of her, dressing the rest of her collection in matching ones.

Quietly, she grabbed the maid by the hips and hoisted her easily over one shoulder, the way she carried plunder. The frilly dress bunched and compacted against the dragon's shoulder. The maid blushed from her collar to her ears, her professionalism breaking for exactly one second, before she restored her demeanour, folded her hands behind the dragon's back, and let herself be carried.

“What- What sort of duties do you have in mind for me?” she asked.

"Something very special,” replied Barjuchne, her claws sinking in possessively.

The hoard room stretched away in every direction, deeper than torchlight reached. Around her were two piles. One was humongous, a sprawling mountain of wealth no king or queen had ever seen, millions of gold coins and gems and treasures, rising up into the dark of the vault. It was an endless sea of riches that would make empires buckle under its sheer weight.

The maid sat on a low stool in the depths of the dungeon, a polishing cloth in one hand, and looked around herself.

Then she went back to work, unimpressed.

Behind her was the stack she had cleaned.

It came up to her knee.

She had been put on treasure polishing duty.

The maid sighed, buffed the next coin to a shine, and set it on the pile.

Clack.