Post-Dragon Era, Year 2000
Kingdom of Golan
Chapter 1
Conor Brantley awoke to a freezing cold autumn breeze teasing his bare chest.
‘Where the hell is the blanket?’
He opened his eyes, wincing as the eastern sun streamed through an open window. His wife, Jessica, stood at the foot of the bed, holding the comforter she had ripped off him. Her malicious grin said everything.
“Get up, you lazy turd.” Jessica snarled at him, “It's time you get a real job! My father was insane to think you would amount to anything, and I must be crazy for putting up with your pathetic ass this long.”
“Jess!” Conor complained, trying to block the sunlight from his eyes. “Do you have to be so cruel?”
“Do you have to be so lazy? Rent is twelve silver dragons this month, Conor. TWELVE!” Jessica fumed.
Conor sat up, frustrated, belittled, and ashamed. It was true that his current employment situation was less than optimistic
Hell, when he was honest with himself, it was shameful that at almost twenty-five years old he was relying on Jessica to pay their rent, and utilities…. and food. But he had so many good business ideas that were always just on the edge of being realized…
The comforter hit him in the face, jarring him back to reality.
“Get dressed. Lucky for you, Father found a job for you at his downtown GrizleHut. Maybe you will actually earn enough to pay for rent for once. You CAN roll pizza dough, right?” She snapped before storming out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Conor groaned as he flopped back on the bed. Pizza was well within his capabilities. What hurt most was the blow to his ego that Jessica had lost so much faith in him she even felt the need to question his ability to do this simple job.
After four years of marriage, he had hoped their relationship would be in a better place. Before their wedding, he had seen the reluctance in Jessica’s eyes.
It had been her father, Mr. Sebastian Cochan with some influence from her grandfather that had been the real driving force behind their contract marriage.
Conor also suspected she had finally relented more to avoid being forced to marry Kelan Benedict than out of any appreciation for Conor’s accomplishments. Kelan had been almost predatory in his constant circling of Jessica over the years. Conor couldnt believe his luck when he had won out and had been able to marry the hottest girl in high school.
While things had been pleasant enough during their first year, Jessica had always kept her own room in their small two-bedroom apartment.
Regardless of any hostilities or reluctance, there had been some sparks in the first year as Conor’s business took off and his handmade cosmetics gained fame around town. Conor had even thought it was turning into genuine love between them, if the bedroom activites in those early months had been any indication.
‘Some Marriage,’ he thought, thinking back on how cold things had become these last few years. Conor didnt want to blame Jessica for the downward spiral of their relationship.
After all, when her father had arranged their marriage, Conor had been a profitable entrepreneur and owned Celia’s Herbals in the Cochan Family mall.
Not only that, but Conor’s mother was well known as the high priestess of the temple of Celia, their dragon god, and was greatly respected across the kingdom. Now, his business had failed and caused them ridicule along the way and his mother had been lost and all but forgotten.
Conor felt a tear slide down his cheek as he remembered the last time he’d heard news about his mother. Three years ago, a gang war broke out in Jinstain, and the temple was ransacked. Rumors that wealth was heaped upon the priestesses of the temple by local businessmen, merchants, and royals seeking Celia’s wisdom and blessing might have spurred such ambitious violence. After the gang cleared the treasure rooms, they burned the temple to the ground. His mother's body was never recovered. At first, Conor dreamed that she had escaped into the mountains, but over the years, that dream faded into wishful thinking...
It wasn’t long after the loss of his mother that things had gone sour at his newly opened shop, Celia’s Herbals. The handmade soaps and essential oils had sold well at first. But a partner in that venture had changed their supplier without him realizing it. Some of the coal and minerals had somehow been tainted, and customers were not happy, and several even got sick.
Many called him and Jessica blasphemers for selling such products under the name of Celia. The public turned on him. Over the years the Cochan mall… and their marriage, also began to suffer due to the association with that failure.
Conor pulled himself out of his melancholy and dressed for the day. He grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of cargo pants and called it good. When he stepped out into the kitchen, Jessica was finishing her breakfast, her blonde locks pulled back in a ponytail.
“Hurry up, Father expects you to be there by nine. He has already called the franchise manager to expect you. Don’t embarrass me further by being late,” she griped.
Jessica paused, her demeanor softening before continuing in a gentle tone, “Conor, this is your last chance. I had to convince Dad to give you this opportunity. He was not pleased and is just waiting for you to fail again. Your last few ideas for new businesses… just didn’t pan out. Take this time to earn some actual money for once, and, maybe, you will find a real solid job soon.”
Conor was startled by her change in demeanor, but grasped on to what he hoped was a lifeline for their marriage. He nodded and decided he would give this opportunity a real shot if it would be a new start for them.
Jessica put her cereal bowl away before grabbing a coat by the door. “You are to meet with the manager, Pops. The old man used to own the shop before Father bought it so be nice to him. Anyway, I will be home late.” She left, heading off to her job at her father’s corporate office. He was glad that she at least had successfully put her business degree to use managing payroll for her father’s several companies. Perhaps he would once again be able to climb the corporate ladder.
Conor watched as she left, admiring her retreating form. The door slamming woke him from his momentary trance, and he fixed his own breakfast. He knew many men would be envious to be married to an attractive woman with curves like hers, but if they knew what home life was like, they might not be so quick to trade places.
Conor walked the streets of Jinstain toward the Grizlhut. The town felt crowded with its tall modern glass buildings, massive multistory shopping malls, and row after row of towering apartment buildings with tiny two-bedroom homes. The wealthy still managed to have a bit of grass around their homes but for the most part, Jinstain had grown faster than the city planners could keep up with. While it was a long walk to the city center near the port where Mr. Cochan had his GrizlHut pizza shop, it was still faster than trying to drive in this traffic. When Conor arrived at the GrizleHut on the east end of town, he paused just outside the door to smell the salty sea breeze. Instead of a pleasant sea smell, the pungent odor of dead fish from the nearby market filled his nose. He nearly gagged and quickly rushed inside to find Pops, the manager and former owner, scrubbing tables with an old rag.“We’re closed, come back in an hour.”“Um, sir, I’m supposed to start work here…” Conor hedged.
The next day was more of the same. Conor clocked in and began his shift with Cara showing him more of the ropes. The previous night had been trial by fire, so he picked up the skills quickly and was soon tossing dough in the air as Cara worked on topping ingredients. Conor noticed several photos hung on a wall in the back as he went for more dough. “Cara, what are these?” Cara glanced around the oven and then shyly darted back to her prep station, “Oh, nothing, just some photos.” “Of?” “Places I want to go.” “Who took them?” “Mostly my uncle, but I took the local ones. He sent me his service journey from his deployment, with all these scenery photos from around the kingdom. Different places he was stationed. If I can ever save enough to go to explore… never mind. Get back to work.” Conor tossed a dough ball into the air and let it drop next to Cara, who let out a squeak as the flour on the counter poofed into the air. “Conor!” she half hissed, half giggled, slapping his arm. “
Conor turned to the man, “My name is Conor.” The man cautiously looked Conor's smile as if he had not had human enteraction in a while, “Parker. Parker Townson. I dont want to cause trouble for you two. If there is just a leftover pizza I am happy to eat that. If you have any work I can do, I will gladly help clean things in exchange.” “Well, Parker Townson, if you are serious about that, I do have some pans that need a deep clean in the back.” “Yes, yes of course!” “Cara, are you good to watch the front?” She nodded and watched Conor lead Parker to the washbasin in the back. Conor helped him take off layers of coat, hanging them on the staff coat rack. “After you wash up, I'll get you a slice. Then I'll show you the pans. I think we have a pizza or two that were never picked up that you can take with you when you're done. Deal?” “Thank you! Thank you so much!” Parker went to hug Conor but Conor smiled and pointed at the washbasin. “Perhaps after you wash up a bit more,” he chu
The next morning Conor slept in late. Jessica had not felt the need to rudely awaken him today, it seemed. Conor sighed. This extra sleep felt like a small birthday miracle. Though she could be cruel at times, Conor still liked her. He longed for her to have more faith in him. With a deep breath, he reminded himself that he had not given her much reason to believe in him. He walked out of his room to find some food from the kitchen before heading back to the GrizleHut. It seemed Mr. Cochan was intent on having him work daily to earn his keep or perhaps he just felt he could work Conor to death as cheap labor and Conor would not be able to complain if he wanted to save his marriage. Just then a knock sounded from the front door. ‘Odd, we don’t usually get visitors.’ Conor answered the door to find a finely dressed dark-skinned gentleman with short, cropped hair and a thin short goatee, wearing a full formal charcoal business suit and red tie. He appeared to be in his mid-thir
Conor arrived to find Pops counting out the till from last night. “Ah, umm, Conor. You are Mr. Cochan’s son-in-law, so I … I think I can trust you to be honest with this. Right?” He said hesitantly, handing Conor a bank bag with several thousand copper bills with the dragon emblem on it. “Take these to the bank, and deposit them for me.” As if he has finally decided, Pops added, “And I warn you, Conor! Don’t get lost on the way! Mr. Cochan will have the city guard after you in minutes if he learns you swindled his till money. And I swear to make sure you get a dose of my own brand of punishment if you make me look the fool in front of him!” “Yes sir.” Conor wasn’t thrilled about the task, but it got him out of the morning prep work. The bank held some humiliating memories for him. He couldn’t count the number of times he had visited Jinstain Bank and Trust in the past three years, only to be laughed out the doors. His most recent humiliation was his idea for selling socks in t
As Conor crossed in front of a spice shop next to the GrizlHut a mental hook pulled at his chest, causing him to step into the aromatic store and spend a second browsing the herbs. It was strange the desire to be in here, but it felt like somewhere he just need to be. His hand found a few dried seasonings including basil, oregano, rosemary, thyme, and marjoram. He couldn’t fathom what he might be able to do with them but headed back to the GrizlHut with his quick purchase. As he entered the back he saw Cara mixing a huge pot of fresh dough. Conor’s mouth went dry at the thought. He had tried the GrizlHut’s dough the other night and to say it was bland was an understatement. But according to Cara, Pops insisted that recipe was a staple that had been in his family for generations. ‘Generations of dead people with no tastebuds,’ Conor thought inwardly. After he clocked in, he set his bag down and returned the till pouch to Pops. “Go use your muscles for something useful and tak
Conor arrived home later again, to find the lights off in their small apartment. He sighed. Four years, and he and Jessica were no closer to having a real relationship. These new hours were not going to make that any easier either, not that she’d care. He drifted into an uneasy sleep. Dreams of wings beating the air as he drifts through warm air currents and floated through the clouds captivated his imagination. The next morning, he awoke to Jessica again wrenching the covers over his bed. “Up! Family meeting today.” She declared while looking at Conor with a disapproving frown. “What does that have to do with me? I thought most of the Cochan family preferred I never show my face around them.” Conor complained, desperately searching for any scrap of warm cloth he could find. “Isn't the twenty-fifth birthday of the faithful followers of Celia supposed to be symbolic? We are expecting a representative from the temple to deliver any inheritance to you.” Jess scorned. “What does
In the company board room, the Cochan family gathered around a small man in long brown robes. This was the newly appointed Dragon priest who had arisen to the post just a few days ago. The previous priest had died from old age, sadly. Conor’s mother had been the last true high priestess, with the current clergy seemingly unable to carry the same wisdom she had possessed. When Conor walked in, the priest perked up and immediately walked over to him. “Ah, brother Brantley! It is good to see you. I am sure you don’t remember me, but I served under your mother many years ago. She was a wise and honored priestess.” The monk even bowed to Conor, and Jessica’s whole family became tense. None of them liked seeing Conor praised. Mr. Cochan cleared his throat. “Hehem, Mr. Arios, we have gathered the family and now our beloved Conor is here. He is now of age to receive the blessing of the temple. What can you present?” Just then, Kelan Benedict walked in. “Sorry I am late.” Conor frowned.