The Realm's Champion, part I

Building your own world is so time consuming.
Especially when anyone can challenge you for part of it.
Sorting through my messages, I was glad to see that there weren't any challenges. I'd just started rebuilding the southern continent, and my newest champion had yet to hatch.
Shifting my viewscreen to the small island that contained the hatchery, I twisted the knob.
A familiar twisting sensation filled my gut as the transportation spell activated, and in the space of a breath, I found myself on the island.
Stretching, I wondered if I'd ever get used to traveling between realms. I was new at this, and still wondered whether inheriting this realm was a good thing. Uncle Rupert had neglected the realm, as had his champion.
I glanced over at the surly centaur. Because he'd been my uncle's champion, Ruebin had been retired when I inherited the realm. He was still around as a mentor for me and my champion.
If I could keep a champion alive long enough to learn anything, that is.
"It's hatching." Ruebin jerked his head toward the hatchery, which was just a small barn. Hurrying in, I hoped that it would be something useful.
Champion eggs could hatch into almost anything, though supposedly the more expensive ones were more likely to be a rare creature. I'd spent nearly all my credits on this egg, and if it was another spotted carp, then I'd have to sell.
Sure, I'd have the week reprieve in order to train my new champion, but once word got out about something as weak as a spotted carp, the challenges would come.
And I'd lose what little I had left.
The inside of the barn was dim, though I didn't mind. It hid the shabby tools and the empty stalls.
The egg was in the last stall, since it was the nicest.
A tiny thing, the egg's shell had changed color since I last saw it. Instead of a drab brown, it was now a sandstone red. That was encouraging. Eggs that changed color before hatching usually had something better than a spotted carp.
Crouching beside the egg, I released a breath. "Come on, little one."
The egg rocked at the sound of my voice, and another crack appeared on the shell. "That's it, break out. We've got a lot to do, and you're my last chance."
I kept up the encouraging commentary through the next hour, trying hard not to let my growing anxiety show. I'd never had a hatching take this long.
Then, the egg exploded.
Biting back a cry, I turned away as bits of shell flew toward me. This had to be a good sign, right? Such a violent hatching must mean that my new champion was powerful.
Turning to look, I froze.
It had to be a mistake. This thing couldn't have made such an entrance.
I heard the clip clop of Reubin's hooves, and then the centaur's low whistle.
"Well Corina, another fantastic choice. I'm sure he'll be able to take out a toe before the first challenger squashes him." Reubin gave a low laugh, and left.
I gave a sigh. I shouldn't have picked such a small egg. It was a risk, but the price seemed alright.
Reaching my hand out, I touched the little salamander's head. It was moist, and a little sticky. The salamander looked at me. It had the same sandstone coloration as its egg, with two spots of brown on its back.
"You're my last hope, Mervyn." I told the salamander, shaking my head.
A week wouldn't be enough to prepare this little guy.
But I had to try.