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-thirties.
“Mr. Brantley?”
“Yes? Who are you?”
“My name is Liam Nuri. I am from the Dreadnaught Law firm of Bayan."
Dreadnaught Law firm of Bayan? Conor thought fast. He knew this name. Dreadnaught was the largest and most powerful law firm in the whole province of Bayan. Many claimed it was the premier firm in the whole kingdom!
“Well, umm nice to meet you Mr. Nuri, but umm, what are you doing here?”
Mr. Nuri withdrew two packets from his briefcase, which he handed to Conor.
“I am not being served, am I?” Had Jessica decided to follow her mother's advice and divorce him? And on his birthday no less? Cold, bitch. Cold.
“No. Well, perhaps not in the sense you are thinking. This is not a summons or a lawsuit. However, you are being served your inheritance. Happy twenty-fifth birthday." Mr Nuri said, looking at Conor amiably and handing him a small pile of envelopes.
"Pardon?" His inheritance? What inheritance? Conor was completely dumbfounded.
"Yes, from your mother. I know you likely don’t remember me, but your mother was very good to me when I was young." Nuri said solemnly and kindly explained, "Her wisdom provided many opportunities for me and for those in my employ. She helped me get established in the world. In honor of her memory, should you need anything in the future, my card is there as well. Call any time."
"Okay... oh, and ... thanks." Conor still felt dizzy while examining the business card and figuring out what Nuri meant. But before he could ask about anything specific, Mr. Nuri has already walked away.
Conor stumbled back into the apartment and opened the first sealed envelope. A silver pendant on a gold chain fell into his open palm, along with two of the kingdom's gold dragon coins and a ring with a dragon emblazoned across it. The coins were solid gold, about 10 centimeters across, and worth almost a full year's living expenses at their current apartment. The dragon ring reminded him of the royal seal he had seen on a letter from the king sent to his mother.
The visage of a grinning dragon head adorned the center of the shiny, mirror-like coins, talons gripping the rim as if trying to claw its way out. Most citizens would only see iron or copper coins, with the rare silver ones used for larger purchases or sometimes rent payments. gold dragons were normally only seen in the ranks of the nobility or very rich merchants. (Consider a gold to = around 20,000- 30,000 USD and is 10 oz of gold. A copper dragon is about $1 USD. a silver is around $150)
The pendant was of a small but life-like silver dragon statuette, with wings spread wide. The dragon was about the size of his palm and grasped a large bluish-green stone between its talons and silvery tail. Conor was mesmerized by it but then remembered the second envelope. Inside he found a short letter.
Dear Conor,
I am sorry I have to leave this burden to you. The pendant is a family heirloom and sacred trust. Guard it with your life and may Celia guide and protect you in return. I wish I could leave you more. Be wary of any who seek to take it from you. Know that you, my son, are my greatest treasure, and the biggest blessing of Celia.
Love, Mom.
'Love mom!'
What the hell was this?!
Conor sat hard on the stool in the kitchen staring at the short note.
Love mom… the words rattled in his head. After so many years of wondering what had happened, this simple note was so inadequate. However, looking down at the pendant he had seen around her neck growing up, he knew his mother must have known something.
Holding this small memento meant the world to him as one of the only links left to his mother. Celia, Conor remembered, was the dragon god his mother had served and worshipped at the temple as high priestess.
What was a dragon god going to do for him now? The god clearly had not saved his mother.
Conor held the chain for a moment before slipping the long chain around his neck and tucked it into his shirt while he slid the gold coins into his pocket. While he may not have much faith in Celia at the moment, the pendant had been his mother’s and he would keep it close in memory of her.
BEEP! BEEP! Oh, no! Conor cursed inwardly as his watch beeped. He was going to be late for his shift.
What A wonderful way to spend his birthday, working a crap job!
However, he rationalized with himself as he rushed out the door that the two gold coins in his pocket were likely more cash wealth than he had seen in one place since he had left his mother’s temple, but they were still only enough to get them through a single year if spent directly on rent. He still needed a steady income!
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.
As the weeks went by, Conor found himself eager to head to the GrizzlHut each day. Cara’s smile was so much more infectious and welcoming than the nagging he received at home from Jessica, or the outright abuse his mother-in-law, Cynthia Cochan, rained down on him. Cynthia seemed to think that Conor owed the family such a debt that he was now a family slave. She loved to order him around even in their apartment. Work at Grizlhut was definitely a welcome escape! One day, Cara and Conor were both scheduled to be off by 4 p.m. “Got any plans this afternoon?” Conor asked. “Yes, actually. Matter of fact… you should come. I think it would be right up your alley.” “What is it?” “You’ll just have to wait and see. At the end of the shift, Cara had Conor ride with her, and they drove to a run-down part of town. Kids were playing basketball in the street, and jumping rope. “What is this place?” “It’s what’s left of the Jinstain Community Center. The Temple of Celia funded it up until
It seemed Kelan Benedict's warning had opened the Cochan family's eyes to the possibility of Jessica's potential, especially as a peace offering to Kelan. Over the past few weeks, Cynthia had suggested divorce from Conor more than once. Each time Mr. Cochan was away on business, Cynthia would invade their apartment and try to broach the topic with Jessica. Jessica, however, staunchly refused to be a trophy for Kelan. But Conor knew deep down that it was not out of love for him that she clung to their marriage, but simple fear of Kelan. One night, during one of Cynthia’s invasions of their apartment, she ordered, “Conor, be quick and finish the dishes and get out! Jessica and I have things to discuss.” As Conor dejectedly took to his task, he heard his wife start in on an old refrain. “Mother, let me marry Nyman, and then I will consider divorcing Conor,” Jessica pleaded, still feeling like she was walking on eggshells with her mother. “Silly girl, the Banks family could never s
Conor awoke the next morning with a new sense of purpose. Jessica had been his wife for four years, and he had not lived up to his end of that contract. Any hostility Jessica leveled at him had been earned by his own failures and his own lack of care for her need for security and financial stability. It was time to change that. He crept out of the room, but found that Jessica had apparently awoken before him and already left for the family offices. He ate a quick breakfast of dry cereal and then called Mr. Nuri. “Yes, Mr. Bentley?” “Can we have a business meeting? With Mr. Miros if possible?” “I will have a car pick you both up. My office will have a meeting room available within an hour.” Conor was amazed at Mr. Nuri’s efficiency and dedication. He had meant what he said when he had told Conor he could call any time. *** An hour later, Conor found himself stepping out of a sleek black car, staring up at an impressive forty-story glass building, with a sweeping arch across the
Conor had the driver drop him off at the Cochan Mall on the southeast end of the city’s central square. Mr. Miros was waiting for him near the stone lions at the mall entrance. “These will make amazing stock photos! Many ads can be made with something like this!” exclaimed Miros. “That is excellent Mr. Miros!” “Just call me Peter, after all, we are about the same age. It just feels weird to be called Mr. Miros all the time,” he chuckled. “Fair enough. In that case, call me Conor.” Conor shook hands with Peter and then pointed down a side alley. “If you come over this way, I think you will be impressed.” Down the side of the mall, a huge mural had been graffitied onto the wall, depicting massive dragon wings. If one stood before them, you could almost feel as if the wings sprouted from your shoulders and prepared to sweep you into the sky. “This… This right here will sell the world over,” Peter exclaimed, already snapping photos. Conor walked up to the wings, placing his hand i