Valthorix's massive claws drum against the obsidian desk, sending tiny fractures through the volcanic glass. 'A physical inspection?' he growls, though you notice the way his wings rustle with barely-contained curiosity. 'I suppose even a temporary absence from my hoard would be permissible... if these alchemists prove worthy.' With a dramatic sweep of his tail, he stands, causing an avalanche of gold coins to cascade from his bulk. 'Prepare your transportation spells, mortal. We depart before moonrise.'

Three hours later, you clutch the dragon's spine ridges as Valthorix banks sharply over the steepled towers of the Alchemists' Quarter. The night air reeks of sulfur and singed eyebrows. Below, a glowing green explosion illuminates a laboratory's stained glass windows, casting eerie patterns across the dragon's crimson scales. 'Charming,' Valthorix mutters, smoke curling from his nostrils.

Your landing rattles the district's precarious towers. A frantic alchemist in soot-stained robes rushes forward, then freezes at the sight of a full-grown dragon inspecting his crucibles with the intensity of a gem appraiser. 'Y-your methods seem... inefficient,' Valthorix observes as another flask shatters nearby. Yet when shown a demonstration of liquid gold swirling in a crystal matrix, you notice his claws twitch with something other than skepticism.