Philodendron

“Sir?”

“What?” he snarled, whirling around.

The Tundra practically wilted into the ground at his glare, and Philodendron rolled his eyes.

It wasn’t often that Philodendron was able to get away from his work. It wasn’t as if he could forget about his plants for a few days while he went off on vacation, especially the more… delicate species he kept. Some needed pruning after their rapid growths during the night, twisted tendrils of vines reaching ever outwards; others needed to be moved to areas with better ventilation, especially after they bloomed and began emitting poisonous fumes; and some needed to be fed every few hours with a mixture of insects and other things better left unsaid.

And if it wasn’t the daily plant care that cut into his already busy schedule, it was everything else that came with running a secret underground business. Though it wasn’t a secret to those who knew where to look—after all, he couldn’t run a business if no one knew about it—he was picky with his clientele. Rich, mostly, and not dimwitted. Besides, it wouldn’t do if something untoward happened to his customers. And if they thought they could take more than they were owed just because he was small? Well, that was on them.

Most though were wise enough to leave him alone, especially after the last time someone had made a move against him. While the mess had been horrendous to clean up afterwards, it did serve as a nice reminder that Philodendron was not just a cute face.

It was just as well that the one day Philodendron didn’t have any work to do their clan was hosting a festival. He’d already finished up his work with the plants, and now? Now it was time to relax and enjoy the archery competition the clan had set up today. There were plenty of dragons here trying their luck, and Philodendron took one look at all their pitiful attempts and scoffed. Some of these contestants couldn’t even hit the broad side of a barn! And they called this a competition? It was a pity they had a height limit, otherwise Philodendron would show these guys just who was boss around here.

Height limits were the absolute bane of his existence. Whoever decided that it was okay to discriminate against short people would rue the day they were born. And sure, it was probably to keep young, irresponsible hatchlings out, but still! What about him? He deserved a chance to wipe the floor with these guys.

There was a cheer as a Fae shot actually hit the target even though it was off-center, the crowd roaring in excitement. Philodendron shook his head. He could’ve done better than that. He could’ve done better than that while blindfolded and in half the time.

“Sir?” the Tundra repeated, and Philodendron sighed and turned. The Tundra was staring at him almost mournfully, hands wringing as he glanced behind him at all the other guards who were doing their best trying not to look like they were hovering.

They were totally hovering.

A Guardian—What was her name? She’d only recently joined the team, so it wasn’t Phil’s fault he forgot, okay?—kept sneaking sidelong glances at them as if wondering if she should intervene or not. Note to self: Have guards work on subtlety while on non-work related outings.

“What,” asked Philodendron, voice carefully flat, “could you possibly need?”

“Er,” said the Tundra before visibly steeling himself. “A recent shipment of… goods came in.”

Philodendron raised a brow. “And?”

“… We don’t know where to put them. Sir,” he added belatedly, probably off Philodendron’s steadily darkening look.

“You put them,” Philodendron said slowly as if he were talking to a small child, “with the others.”

“Yes, but—“

The Guardian obviously had enough eavesdropping because she coughed and said, “Sir, you barely let us touch them, let alone know what they even are. Last time Jack moved the acid-spewing plant next to the combustible one and…” She broke off at Philodendron’s look, and immediately backed off. “Never mind, sir. Forget I said anything.”

Philodendron huffed. And of course it couldn’t wait until after the archery competition. No, knowing the incompetence of the movers, they probably did put highly volatile plants together just for the laughs. The absolute jerks.

“Fine. Fine,” said Philodendron, waving them off and pretending he didn’t notice the way every guard in the vicinity visibly relaxed. “I’ll do it,” he grumbled. “Remind me to teach you all about this later, alright? This is the last time I’m doing this.”

“Of course, sir,” the Tundra said, hurriedly scratching down the note as Philodendron turned to leave. As he tread away, already the sounds of the festival were fading behind him.