Red Dragon, but chosen by all four gods

Motal has been in a bad mood lately.

She discovered that her importance within the dragon herd was declining sharply after she entered the juvenile stage.

Both the blue dragon and the black dragon received their elder brother's "blessing," bridging the gap in their status.

Moreover, Faldom had anticipated Heros's intentions and selected a group of his own followers in White River Valley, which he then brought to Dragon's Nest.

The elder brother was clearly very satisfied with this.

Maglen, that dimwit, actually started studying magic, and now he's even managed to jump up and take over the position of Heros's assistant.

I was the one who arrived first!

Although Heros said that only she could do the work of planting and producing food, this barely alleviated some of her dissatisfaction.

But Motal still couldn't shake off his anxiety.

She currently has neither family nor her brother, and there are no updates on her plans.

If this continues, when he reaches adolescence, that bastard Ferdom will likely gain favor first and get the right to mate under his brother!

The thought of Ferdom accepting her favors while flashing a smug smile made Mortal want to grind her teeth to dust.

However, Mortal dared not abandon her post; she had to complete the task assigned to her by Herlos.

If food cannot be produced, these mortals will have to rely on the hunting party led by Anglu for sustenance.

If you lose the black dragon, then the blue dragon. If you lose the white dragon too, then Mortar will have no dragons left to lose!

Whenever he thought about this, Motal's anxiety grew daily.

So she worked even harder day and night to infuse the fields with magic to promote the growth of crops, while also being careful, as the green dragon magic awakened in her bloodline mostly catalyzed poisons.

At her age, she cannot yet fully master bloodline magic.

As time went by, Motar discovered that the crops in two fields were growing much better than the others.

After a careful inspection, she found that there were not many differences.

There was no more magic infused, no better land, and the seeds were all the same.

So she called over the farmers who were in charge of the two plots of land.

……

"Are these two plots of land your responsibility?"

"Yes, great dragon, I will take charge of cultivating these two fields." A small man knelt down before Mortar.

Motar frowned slightly; she didn't quite like the short man.

To be precise, it just doesn't quite fit her aesthetic.

Like most green dragons, her aesthetic sense leans towards strength; she prefers larger sizes and greater power, just like her brother…

Motal shook her head; her recent anxiety had made her easily distracted.

"Why do these two plots of land you cultivate grow better and faster than the other plots?"

The short man hadn't expected that the green dragon had summoned him just to ask this basic question.

He then introduced himself: "I am a farmer from the Weilding Plain. I have been farming with my father since I was a child. There are many skills involved in farming, such as spacing the seeds apart, leaving enough space for the roots, and cutting off the weeds when they sprout..."

The more Motar listened, the more he frowned.

In her inherited memories, the ancestors who left their mark on the golden age all demonstrated their great power.

For example, creating a towering oak tree to serve as a dragon's nest; transforming an entire forest into a deadly trap; and using countless vines to drag enemy armies underground and strangle them...

She had never thought about how to grow these weed-like crops, let alone master these messy techniques.

If she had enough magic, she would have forced all the fields to ripen long ago and then flown back to Heros to report back.

Unfortunately, she didn't have that. She was still just a young dragon. Even with her brother's "gift" that made her stronger than other young dragons, she was still a young dragon.

So she had to muster her limited patience and keep listening.

"Could you teach these techniques to other farmers?"

"certainly!"

The little man was delighted to have gained the green dragon's approval and immediately raised his sickle, saying, "Great dragon, I need more farming tools. Could you help me find some blacksmiths? Their farming tools are too crude."

"no problem."

Motar thought for a moment, then remembered that there were many blacksmiths in the Mirha tribe, and she could ask her brother for them.

"Is there anything else you need?"

The short man thought for a moment, then hesitated before saying, "I... I didn't mean to offend you, great dragon, but many of the farmers you've chosen are simply not suited for farming..."

Seeing that Green Dragon's expression was a little off, the short man immediately fell silent and dared not say anything more.

But Mortal thought of Faldom, so he took a deep breath and suppressed his anger at being offended by an ant.

"Go on, I'm listening."

"Yes, yes! Many farmers are much taller than me, but their claws can't grip farm tools, and their feet are also very large, some even have hooves, which easily trample the sprouting crops to death! Moreover, the soil is trampled so firmly that the roots of the crops can't grow, so naturally they don't grow big..."

At first, the short man was a little apprehensive, but farming was his forte, so he became more and more animated as he spoke.

Upon hearing this, Motal, though reluctant to admit it, understood that the little man was right.

"You mean to say that it's best to choose someone as short as you as a farmer?"

Motal thought for a moment: "Among these people, there seem to be very few who are as short as you."

"Yes, I came from the Plains of Veldin on my own. A powerful dragonborn warrior saved me from the demons, so I want to make some contributions to the Golden Dragon Court."

"The Weirding Plain, you mean, there are many of your people there?"

"Yes, my people are very good at farming. In fact, we think we are probably only good at farming and reproduction. If it weren't for the protection of the Golden Dragon Lord, our people would only be able to shrink in a corner of the plain and wouldn't have multiplied so much."

Motar seemed to be deep in thought.

Instead of teaching other farmers how to farm, why not just choose what's readily available?

If Faldom can bring in a team from White River Valley to serve her directly, why can't he do the same?

"Very well, little one. I've decided to recruit some of your people to the Golden Dragon Court as farmers, and I will grant a group of you the opportunity to become descendants of the great true dragons. Are you willing?"

"Of course! Of course! Becoming a dragonborn is my dream. I know many of my people are eager to escape the heavy taxes of the lord. Some have so many children they're already starving! Let alone the chance to become a true dragonborn warrior! I guarantee there will be many young people coming!"

"Very good." Mortar nodded. "I appoint you as Chief Minister of Agriculture. Come with me to the Weilding Plain to recruit farmers. You will be responsible for managing them. Can you do it?"

"I worked with Miss Inanna in White River Valley for several years. She taught me a lot, and I think I can do this well. It would be my honor."

Motar was very satisfied.

If she could gather all these little guys, she would only need to focus on infusing the magic, and she wouldn't have to worry about the rest.

This way, she could return to the experimental cave more often and stay by her brother's side.

All I need to do is ask my brother for permission to recruit them; he probably won't refuse in order to better manage these mortals.

Just as Mortar was about to fly to the experimental cave, he suddenly remembered something and looked down to ask:

"What's your name?"

"Corleone Typhon, that's my name," Little Corleone said happily, raising his scythe.