Tree of Aeons
Interlude – Lizardfolk II

Life for the migrated lizardpeople was comfortable, but different. The migrants enjoyed the comforts and the outward safety, but in private, they argued and bickered over the tradeoff. Jaan suffered their pleas and whines, for he is chief. 

It is him, who they blame for their situation, after all, he suggested this particular location. 

"This place is not the way of the lizardpeople." 

Tradition, as it is, resisted change. 

Jaan felt tradition was helpful, it helped them make good decisions. But he was not beholden to them. They were not a rule. Tradition was not always the answer. 

Thus lies the first schism with tha matrons, as that was not how matrons saw it. The matrons believed that tradition was the only way for young lizardfolks to be lizardfolk. 

Veer away from that, and the lizardfolks are something else entirely. It was as if a lizardfolk, and the culture around being a lizardfolk was inseparable. 

That schism was at the heart of their dispute. Was tradition law, or just a recommendation?

His ears, if he was human, would’ve fallen off, and he could now recite their arguments by heart, the words imprinted into his mind. 

But he didn’t believe it.

Their culture was part of the problem.

Even in their small clan of lizardfolk there were the traditionalist, and the modernist who embraced the new way. 

He had hoped there was a bridge somewhere. Something to bring the two sides of the clan together. It existed somewhere, but as of now, he did not see the way to it.

***

"Aeon intends for the lizardfolk leaders to see what life is on Treehome. Ten of your most senior representatives are invited for a trip to the Treehome, this trip will take about three to four weeks."

"A trip to Treehome? Where is that?" The matrons asked.

"Aeon's homeworld." Jaan gasped. In his day to day life, he had heard whispers and rumors that these people were ‘otherworlders’, but it was another thing to travel there. 

Naturally, they couldn’t miss the opportunity. Jaan and nine others came, and there were many others. Lizardfolk, elves, and the other migrants had all selected their own representatives for the trip. Jaan recognised a few familiar faces, faces he met during the monthly migrant integration meetings. 

They gathered for the trip at the floor of the gigantic tree of Branchhold. 

They didn’t like being here, just approaching it felt them with a sense of such overwhelming dread and he could see the same, pale faced expression on his other clan members. They weren’t exactly sure why.

They brought some luggage along, stored in standardized bags provided by the Branchhold's officials. On the ground, there was clearly some differentiation between the officials of Branchhold, and those of this 'Treehome'. 

They had a slightly different badge that pulsed and had a strange scent. 

"Please stand here. The transportation process will begin shortly." 

Jaan saw the first of the other groups vanish suddenly, and one of the matrons shouted in surprise. The officials quickly calmed her down, explaining that it is a teleportation spell of some kind. The matrons shouted back, at first, claiming that it lacked the mana presence for a spell.

"Chief Jaan, you're next." The officers guided them to the location. He stood, and just as suddenly, he felt a vine touch him. It sent something through him, and at that point.

[You will be sent to another world. Do you agree?]

He could refuse, but he felt that the spell could send him through anyway. He knew by instinct it was powerful enough to overpower him. Jaan nodded, and it was instantaneous. 

In a sudden, he was elsewhere. The rest of the representatives from his clan joined him just moments later. The eldest matron was amazed. She hadn’t known of a skill that could send one through worlds. 

The air immediately felt different, the stench of the demonic presence gone, replaced by the overwhelming presence in the air, a kind of natural magic. Branchhold was still surrounded by quite a lot of corrupted demonlands, territories unclaimed, and that stench still drifted to Branchhold occasionally. 

Here. nothing. 

"Welcome." Everyone was here, and there were a hundred of them. They were located in a deep valley, though with all the bright lighting, it's hard to tell. "Please, this way." They were guided to a convoy of tour beetles. 

The wide-eyes lizardfolks were led into protected beetles, where they witnessed the vast, sprawling metropolis of Freshka. Freshka’s various districts were visible as the beetles crossed the little crest of a hill. 

Jaan’s slitted lizard eyes scanned the metropolis from their vantage point. The segments of the academic district with the towers of the FTC, the military-magic district where the Valtrian Order and the mages trained, and the sprawling economic and residential segments that took up all the spaces in between. 

He had seen large cities, but never so large. 

“I’ve never seen a city so large.” One of the female matrons said, and the eldest matron was just silent. Jaan knew she had a lot to take in. Silence was how she processed information.

After a short moment, the beetles ferried them through the streets on the dedicated branchways that crisscross the city. Traffic was hardly ideal in Freshka, even the dedicated branchways had to share traffic with many other beetles, among the other dedicated paths made from branches, and underground root paths that moved people from place to place. 

“And so messy.” Another human, one of the leaders of the human-faction of Branchhold commented. 

“Some refer to that as being alive. A city that lives.”

Jaan began to tour the districts. Their first stop was the education district, and they were greeted by four young Lords of the central continent. A treefolk, a human, a centaur and a lizardfolk.

He froze when he saw one of the Lords and Ladies was a lizardfolk, covered in all kinds of badges and dressed in a beautiful set of armor. Whoever planned this trip was clever, and he noticed the matrons themselves glared enviously at the young lady.

 “Greetings, I am Lady Ghairen.” The lizardfolk lady spoke to them. “It is my honor to greet our esteemed visitors from Branchhold. It is indeed a shock to me, to know that lizardfolks exist on other worlds too, and also a great honor, that I am tasked with introducing the ways of my fellow lizardfolk to the representatives of Branchhold. Greetings.”

The matrons’ glares were a mix of both envy and pride. She was tall, and her body strength did not pale to any male. There was a deep sheen to her scales, a clarity to her eyes, a glint to her teeth. Jaan himself was fairly flabbergasted to beauty. It was an admiration not unlike seeing a goddess. He had to dig deep and to pull himself to react. 

“Now, I’ll be your guide during this process. For the lizardfolks, we will be touring some of the lizardfolk enclaves in Freshka, and also a dedicated tour of the lizardfolk villages in the outskirts. We will also be meeting a few elite lizardfolk Valthorns, the valiant warriors who protect us from the demons.”

Everyone nodded, the lady had some kind of skill that seemed to just hold their attention, even if what she said was boring. 

A matron immediately ribbed Jaan. “Why don’t you speak like that?”

Jaan snarled. “Wrong class.”

***

The college of the nobility and the commoners wasn’t of much interest to the lizardfolk. The elves and humans, however, found it thoroughly fascinating, as they had some kind of schooling and academy system back home and so could compare notes.

Then, they went on to the military academy and that was when the matrons truly, truly revealed a thirst he had rarely seen in them. 

The Valthorns had an area where the lizardfolk Valthorns trained, and all of them were strong, powerful individuals. Their stares and glances were greedy, filled with desire, even the eldest matron. 

Lady Ghairen nodded, as if she expected the reaction, she was used to the scene so she didn’t react to the sight of these powerful lizardfolks. “The Valthorns will perform a demonstration of their levels of strength. The group here is part of the junior batch, at around level 60 to 80. The military of Treehome are organized around the Valtrian Order, which has the mass military forces, the Valthorns, which comprised the elite forces of Treehome. Within the Valthorns itself, there are further segregations into specialized units, with the junior batch of level 60 to 100, the senior batch of level 100 and above, and the elites, the best of the senior batch.”

“Level 60 to 80 is the junior batch?” One of the matrons wanted to faint. 

“Of course.” Lady Ghairen smiled. “The bar to enter the true Valthorn ranks is level 100.”

“Level 100!” 

“To be able to challenge the demon champions single-handedly, level 80 is the minimum. You will meet a few level 100 lizardfolks later on.” 

“How do they train till such levels?” Jaan was curious about the specifics.

“That’s classified. I do not know the full details of what the Valthorns go through. There are some guesses and rumors, of course, that Aeon has some secret dungeons for the Valthorns, but no one has ever found them.”

“I see.” Jaan admired the incredible build and strength of the lizardfolks, and felt proud that lizardfolk could stand toe to toe with the best of them. 

The humans and elves were less impressed with the high leveled elves, because they too had seen level 80 elves and humans, but rather, they were taken aback that lizardfolks, that they normally consider to be generally weaklings, even at the same levels, display such exceptional strength. 

“I don’t want to paint the wrong picture, here.” Lady Ghairen clarified. “The Valthorns, even the lizardfolks, are trained from young. These lizardfolks are designed, and educated for the long war against the demons. They are selected for their exceptional combat talents, and not all lizardfolks live such lives.” 

“How many lizardfolk are there?” A matron asked. “How many serve as tools of war?” 

“From what publicly available data revealed by the Valthorns, only less than three thousand lizardfolks serve in the Valthorns, though about hundred and seventy thousand serve in the Valtrian Order throughout the central continent. Our total population, based on the estimates collected by the FFA, puts our lizardfolk at somewhere around eighty million.”

“Eighty million?!” 

“Yes, one third of that number lives in the area of Wetport Lapule, which is the lizardfolk’s de facto capital. The rest are scattered all over the continent, in smaller towns, swamp and marshland cities, or in the various villages.”

The matrons looked at each other, curious what a great lizardfolk city was like. “Will we be able to visit that city?” 

Lady Ghairen wasn’t sure, and looked at a Valthorn assistant. “I’ll get back to you on that.” 

The tour took them to the Treeology School, again, fairly boring to the lizardfolks, but fascinating to the elves, humans and others. 

Some time later, Lady Ghairen came with splendid news. 

“Yes. The Valthorns agreed to provide some free time to visit Wetport Lapule.” Lady Ghairen said with much joy. “I won’t be going with you, however as I have some tasks here. You will be received by a district chief of the city, instead.”

***

Four days it took for the lizardfolks to make the trip to Wetport Lapule.

Nestled along the Lapula Bay area, where the once-pure waters of the Pule river met the great Eastern Oceans. Along the Eastern seaboard of the Central Continent, Wetport Lapule was and is the noisy hive of the lizardfolks. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ NøvᴇlFirᴇ(.)nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

A stench foul to all but lizardfolk filled the air, the place was once idyllic. Urbanization, and the massive influx and population explosion of lizardfolks erased most of that purity. 

Over ten million lizardfolk lived across the many structures and lizard-made rivers along the coasts of the Lapula Bay, and another ten to fifteen million more across the great metropolis.

Here, it was where the Great Chiefs and Kings of the Lizardfolks would rule over the rest of their kind, though no lizard had dared call themselves King of the Lizardfolk since the great catastrophe of the Rottedlands. 

For all it took, was to look up and witness the great tree that loomed over Wetport Lapule, the twisted, swamp-adapted form of their guardian and patron, Aeon. 

A reminder of death, an obelisk of the great restoration and also a shining guiding flame of the city. 

Many other gigantic trees loomed over the city and the bay, spawned over the generations by their patron, but it is to their Light of the Swamps,

The beacon of the Wetport, the biggest of them. it was both a tree and lighthouse, on the tallest branches of that tree, there was a stairs that led to a large, forever burning flame. 

They once wanted to replace the flame of the ports with a bright magical crystal that did not require the careful tending of a group of specialist lizards, the [Flameguardians].

Yet, superstition prevailed, as rituals and beliefs emerged over the decades, and the plan for the crystal light wildly resisted. 

What was Wetport Lapule without the ever burning flames on the highest of their trees? The lizardfolks believed, even if untrue, that the flame was a remnant of the Rottedlands. In truth, it was just Aeon’s copy of the crown of flames that once lit it’s true body. The lizardfolks needed a lighthouse, and his giant tree could easily serve the purpose. 

Despite truth, symbolism. Faith. 

Prevailed. 

Aeon was perhaps wise enough to know that it was pointless to stop superstition. The races sought patterns, and symbols, so Aeon allowed it.

It was the symbol of rebirth. A symbol of the way home. 

Rain or shine, whether storm or hurricane, the [Flameguardians] ensured the flames lit the skies, marking the Lizard’s return. Next to service as one of the great Valthorns warriors, the [Flameguardians] was coveted. 

Among those lizardfolks who survived that fateful day, and lived, many privately worship the great tree as a variant, an image of some animistic deity of the Lizardfolk. 

Heresy. It was not what the Treeology priests taught, thus quietly said and whispered among the closest of lizardfolks. It was something a lizardfolk would only share when their scales touched, and their bodies intertwined with each other. 

Yet tolerated. 

As Jaan and the rest of them marveled at the great, foul, disgusting, and sprawling mass of their kind, they realized, at that moment. 

“This is what we could be.” The matrons realized, if nothing else. A sight that they’ve never realized possible, that their kind could have a great city of their own, so massive and so large that the residents of the Wetport Lapule would need days of scrubbing and showering to wash off the stench of all the droppings. 

Jaan shook his head. Of all things, this was what the matrons wanted for their kind? 

A city of lizardfolks? It was true that lizardfolks did ascend to quite high and senior ranks back home, and there were lizardfolk kingdoms and nations in the past. But, the sheer nature of lizardfolk breeding habits and their weaker-than-average strength, on average, mean lizardfolk kingdoms rarely lasted long.

Civil war was common in lizardfolk kingdoms, as generations after the founding king, so many claim to be descendants of the King. Their communal breeding nature did not help, and Jaan had always felt this was a flaw of their breeding practices. 

But he did not express his thoughts, as his eyes looked at the city around them. Their carrier beetles led them through the long, dedicated passageways, but they could see housing and shops that seemed to stretch as far as the eyes could see. 

Almost all lizardfolks, though some other races had chosen to live among them. 

The bay was pristine, once, but much has changed. Instead, it was filled with ships of all shapes and sizes, and massive, gigantic lizardfolks meant for war filled the docks. 

Pirates. Privateers. Sailors. 

Back home, Jaan had never known of lizardfolk sailors. They could swim quite well, but they were most familiar with the shores and seas. Not the deep oceans, but here, their kind adapted. 

Jaan’s [inspect] quickly revealed that their levels were not much higher than his own, yet, their physique and health suggested a far better quality upbringing. Their scales all had at least some shimmer, unlike their own dull scales. 

“Chief Jaan.” A Valtrian order assistant, an, had to wear some kind of mask. The stench was overpowering. “We are arriving in another hour. I’ll introduce you to District Chief Saraf, he runs District II of the Wetport, and he’ll bring you all around.”

The beetle convoy of lizardfolks stopped at the bottom of the great tree of the Wetport Lapule, and the location itself was grandly decorated. 

A large, opulent receiving platform, and ornately carved walkways, lifts and handles. Statues made of valuable materials littered the location, and smaller but incredibly beautiful trees scattered all over.

Their eyes drifted to the crowd waiting for their turn. There were lines of pilgrims and young lizardfolks, led by their teachers, minders and matrons. 

A faith and superstition reinforced. 

But to the matrons, they saw tradition. A tradition not their own.

“Greetings, Chief Jaan. must be a journey, to come from a faraway small village to the big city.” Saraf was a tall, slender lizardman with spotted red scales. He was ornamented from head to toe, with gold studs and gold-plated scales to replace where some scales had dropped off, and gemstone rings on his scaled fingers. He had a large, thick necklace similarly made of gold and silver. 

“Greetings, Chief Saraf.” Jaan responded.

“Ah, I must correct you there. I will be referred to as District Chief. There are many chiefs in this city, I am but one of the thirty-four district chiefs of the central Wetport administration, and I would be in trouble if anyone heard you refer to me as anything else.” 

“My apologies, District Chief.”

Then he laughed, and gently jabbed Jaan on the shoulder. “I’m joking, don’t be a tense lizard. Your tail might drop off. We are not so uptight. We’d die from stress,, if we’re anal about things like naming. Come, come.”  

Jaan noticed there were guards, but just ordinary ones. Better equipped, and in better health, but noticeably ordinary. 

“We’ve arranged for a trip up to see the Light of the Wetport. That’s the first touristy thing everyone does. Or religious, I suppose.”

“Touristy? What does that mean?” Jaan asked out of genuine curiosity. A concept unheard of, back on the Mountainworlds.

“What you happen to be doing now, Jaan. Visiting. Touring.”

“-Ah. It is a thing here. Pardon me.”

“No worries. Village bum problems.” Saraf laughed, as they waited. The matrons watched eager, cheerful young lizardfolks, escorted by their minders into specially made wooden lifts, so they didn’t have to climb up the steps. Each lift had multiple ropes and anchors, and once filled, properly secured and then lifted up to the top.

The work of lizardfolk [crafters] and [builders]. 

But not all took the lifts. There are those who took the hike up the great tree as a journey of their own, the fenced stairs and ladders coiled around the twisted giant tree like a snake. 

It was soon their turn, but by now the Matrons’ faces were visibly different. They had seen so many, old and young, visit.

The light itself, a flame that seemed to burn the tree itself was located on the tallest branch of the tree. It seemed to burn ravenously, and burned the branches, intentionally so. Yet it never seems to spread, specialized lizardfolks ensured it never did. 

Jaan felt the heat from the bright flames, and watched the [flameguardians] go about their work. 

The tour group was safe, their vantage point was a large ring-shaped platform around the flames. They shared the large platform, the earlier groups were also admiring the flames. Jaan looked at little young children, with their still tiny scales and bright eyes, wobble and go gaga over the huge flames.

A matron couldn’t help herself, approached the guardians of the young lizardfolks, and struck up a conversation with the minders. The rest of the matrons swarmed in to join her, eager to learn about the locals. 

They were curious, and conversations between the matrons and the minders were juicy. 

Jaan just watched, and looked at the district chief. 

“Everyone visits these flames?” 

“Yes. It’s a thing. We sell paintings and sculptures downstairs for lizardfolk visitors who wanted to take a bit of it home. Souvenirs.”

“Really?” Jaan didn’t understand the concept.

“Yeah. I don’t get it either. Paintings and souvenirs just can’t compare to actually being here, high above the city and being next to the flames that guide our raiding ships home. A painting or a sculpture just doesn’t have that presence.” 

Most captains and sailors have some navigational skills, but [lighthouses] and [ports], are structures that act as beacons in their own minds. Like waypoints. 

Symbols.

And if enough people believed in it, the system absorbed elements of the symbols.

***

Jaan couldn’t get the matrons to stop talking, but luckily, the minders and the children had to go back to their care centers. 

Yet, he could see it in some of the matrons, who realized that traditions changed. 

Yes, there is an argument to hold onto original traditions, to write them down, to remember why they were, and what they were for. Jaan knew that their own matrons understood the traditions, and their purpose. 

The beetle now led them to tour the rest of Wetport Lapule, which was different.

There was a bustle, an energy in the docks that was palpable. Everyone did something, and wanted to do something. There was always a ship setting out, and even though the skies looked cloudy, no one seemed to mind. 

Just being here made Jaan feel like he was a slacker.

The eldest matron stood next to Jaan, and sighed. “They are so strange.”

“Strange?” Jaan asked.

“Lizardfolks. Sailors.” 

“Their world is different. They have large oceans, while ours only has one large one.”

“Their traditions, their ways. So different.”

Jaan nodded. “We may be similar in appearance, but their people changed over time.”

A ship sailed in, battered, but the captain was a large, burly lizardman. A giant lizardperson with scars, and tattoos that glowed. Level 50 [Pirate War Captain]. Enchantments. He wore gloves made of some kind of unusual steel, thick with magical enchantments. 

“But look at them.”

The matron gave out a long sigh. “That’s the thing. I can’t say they are wrong. They have life, they have dignity, their own city, their own culture. These lizardfolks belong here, unlike us, running and fleeing from the flames of war. Our kingdoms never last more than a decade, and here-”

“They have the might to defend their claim. We don’t.” 

“You know we usually fall to infighting.” The matron answered.

Lizardfolks of mountainworld are segregated. Separated. Treated as disposable units deployed just to overwhelm their enemies with sheer numbers. 

The largest they had was just a city not even one tenth of this monstrous, sprawling agglomeration. They never got large enough, which was ironic, given their breeding patterns designed for volume. 

Even when they did, infighting broke their clans and villages apart, and they were back to square one. The poorer average quality of lizardfolks meant many just died along the way. Their poor skills and abilities meant they couldn’t even feed that many, if they wanted to.

Jaan nodded. “I don’t believe they are entirely right, Matron. But there are things to learn from their path. Something in between the two traditions.” 

The matron shook her head. “Mixing traditions is even more dangerous.” 

Jaan shrugged, and saw what they liked. Lizardfolks of Wetland Lapule were truly masters of herbs and potions, due to competition among the [herbalists], [witchdoctors] and [shamans], and far better record keeping and tracking of recipes by the central authority. 

There was tradition, but new traditions could also be made.

***

“District Chief Saraf, when we were back on Freshka, we saw some Valthorn lizardpersons. Are there any here?”

Saraf laughed like it was the most ridiculous statement ever. “Is your village so small that they didn’t even put a Valthorn? The Great Tree has people everywhere. Everywhere.” 

He then pointed in a particular direction, where Jaan’s eyes suddenly saw a giant tree, just as large as the one with the flames, located slightly further inland, but still deep in the suburbs and districts of their city. “Strange. Why didn’t I see that before?”

“Tree-magic.” Saraf laughed. “I think. Or some godly shenanigans. But if you want to find Valthorns, that is where you go. That’s also the super rich-district, and the administrative district of Wetland Lapule.” 

“Super rich?”

“Yup. If you’re one of the Guild Lords or great Admirals, you’ll have a home in District XII. It’s a fancy, really upscale place where they’d kick you out, if you got a scale out of place.”

“Really?”

Jaan stared, and Saraf eventually shrugged.

“Alright, I’m half joking. The Valtrian order doesn’t do that. But the private establishments do. Uppity farts with half dropping tails between their legs.”

“If you didn’t tell me, I wouldn’t think you look out of place.” Jaan smiled. 

“Meh.” Saraf cursed. “They think I’m a tryhard. Fools with too much money and too little brains. They’ll be poor in a generation or two.”

Jaan didn’t get it, but he nodded. 

“Anyway, let’s not bore you with class dynamics in this swamphole.” Jaan saw through Saraf’s fake laugh. All was not perfect here, and so, Jaan tried to poke a bit harder.

“What’s life being... poor?”

“Fantastic. You just make your babies with some whore from the bar, and dump them at the Valtrian order’s nurseries, and it’s no longer your fucking problem, then you’re back to serving on the decks and a deckhand, then at night you’re pissed drunk somewhere, somehow, but never actually falling into the bay.” Saraf said. “Then, you try to claim every orphan lizardfolk who made it as somehow your descendant. One you don’t have a hand in raising.”

Jaan felt that sounded way too personal, as if he lived it.

“Hah. Didn’t expect that, right? But anyway, I’m kidding. I wouldn’t want to be poor again. It’s terrible. All that alcohol doesn’t numb the fact that society sees you as worthless.”

Another set of statements Jaan couldn’t wrap around his head.

“But honestly, it’s the middle class who gets shoved. Mainly from stupid, ridiculous, absurd property prices. You know us lizardfolks, we don’t like tall skyscrapers like humans or elves, we like our homes on land, with some bits of flowing water and all that. That’s why we’ve kept building outwards and pretty much taken over the entire bay! The other races now call this place the Bay of Lizards.”

They were now back on the deck. 

“Huh. It’s almost entirely why they instituted production quotas. This place essentially bore the faults of lizardfolk over-birthing in the earlier half century. Aeon wanted to repopulate the lizardfolk population, which was fine and all, had everyone listened to their directives and lived in the old lizardfolk lands where there’s still a lot of space, but every other damned lizardfolk wanted to be here.” 

The chief stared at the district chief again, and couldn’t help but ask. “Why?”

“It’s the biggest market for lizardfolks. Highest wages, good competitive roles, best employers, and the land where all the famous non-Valtrian lizardfolks live. If you want to work for a famous [buccaneer admiral], this is the place to be.”

“Don’t chiefs tell the young lizardfolks what to do?” Jaan asked, as if the idea was so ridiculous. Why were younglings not listening to orders? In his mind, there was room for discussions and all, but once the decision was made, everyone had to follow.

That was the way. “Oh lord you’re one of those oldies that still want to dictate younglings, aren’t cha?”

Jaan paused, and felt like he too got slapped in the face. Metaphorically. 

“Haha, my bad. Don’t mean to step on your old tail, but seriously, young lizardfolks these days are brought up with so many supplements and provided with such large amounts of knowledge and education, they’re just different. You gotta adapt, or you won’t keep your role for long.”

“Wha-”

“I can feel that you come from a place unlike this, but reality is, the young will have their own thoughts, and they won’t agree with you all the time. Time to let go. Let them experiment. This place was an experiment, after all. Though, I suppose you could also say this damned place is an experiment that went on for far too long and it’s high time Aeon stepped in to revamp this damned bay.”

Suddenly, he now understood the matrons’ resistance. 

Tradition dictated that they defer to the matrons on matters of family and raising younglings, and he tried to change it. 

Here, his role was subject to change. He was old, and felt old. This was what it was like to feel like the world’s changing too fast, and you can’t keep up.

He had been too selfish, and perhaps ignorant. He thought that his own position was safe from change. Was the matron’s resistance arising out of insecurity over their own roles in the future lizardfolk society? 

Where do they go from here? 

***

Spaizzer

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This is just a side story on the life of lizardfolks. I keep getting requests from readers to write more about the story of those living under Aeon's rule, and this is one of the attempts. There are a few more on patreon, some worked, some didn't.

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