A Treatise on Theft and Dragons in the Modern Day

Summary: Centuries later, a coin is stolen from the Dragon Lord's hoard by a grad student. A dragon, a former king, and a swordsman set out to steal it back. Set in the modern day, minor OC, oneshot.

Andorra La Vella, Spain

One of his ears twitched as he heard a sound.

He used one of his claws to comb a coin closer to his pile. He could not bear losing even one piece. Most of his gold was on loan from someone, and he wanted to be able to give it back when that person showed up.

There was not only gold in his cave of course. There were paintings of unknown people, scrolls in long lost languages, regular human furniture that was enough to seat several dozen people, and an entire room full of leather-backed books.

As for the dragon himself, he was longer than a whale, but thinner and covered in thousands of black scales. Each scale was enough was pebble sized and sturdy enough to withstand a bullet. Two long, stout horns grew out of the back of his head.

Raon Miru, the Dragon Lord, lifted his head and looked around once before going back to dozing. While he was sleeping, he missed, unfortunately, a coin and a scale being slipped in someone's pocket and the sheer glee in that human's eyes.

When Raon woke, he counted his coins. He came up short by one. The dragon looked for it in his cave, but was unable to find it. He did spot the imprint of someone's shoe in the mud outside the cave. Raon growled low in his throat. He needed to find the human who did this.

With a flex of his magic, his black scales melted into pale white skin. The hair of the dragon masquerading as a human was black and short. The irises of his blue eyes stayed elongated, slitted in the same way a cat's are.

Raon was going on the hunt for a thief. If he lost the person, he would call the prince. . .hopefully the number hadn't changed in the past two decades.

XXX

New York, USA

The Crossman Corporation was one of the world's top conglomerates. Its young looking, blond CEO just got off work. Albert went out the backdoor on the first floor of the building, into the alleyway filled with dumpsters.

He swiftly switched his blazer for a loose hoodie and dress shoes for sneakers. His blond hair and white skin changed to brown as he dropped the illusion on his appearance. As a last touch, he ran a hand through his gelled hair.

Albert Crossman exited onto the street. His phone vibrated and he picked it up.

Unknown number, was all the Caller I.D. said. Wasn't '011 34' Spain?

Albert picked up and continued walking. He didn't say anything, wanting for the person on the other side.

"Prince?"

Albert, or in truth, Alberu Crossman, King of the Raon Empire, stopped for a moment and then continued moving with the traffic. He remembered now: Raon had nicknamed him prince and stuck with it. "Yes. What is this about, Raon?"

"Someone stole one of Cale's coins. It's no longer nearby." Raon had a tracking spell on each part of his hoard. It was a precaution against stealing, and had absolutely nothing to do with that time he accidentally misplaced some of his coins and spent days searching for them only to find they had somehow wedged themselves inside his couch.

Alberu nodded. He texted his secretary that he was taking a few days off. "How did someone get in?"

"He held no malice. Even though he stole something." Raon's voice was petulant, clearly regretting how he had set up his wards.