Targu Province. Saturday night “A toast! To our good brother Kelan, for without him, many of us would still be scrapping the bottom of the barrel here in Velyki!” declared Darren Krellis. “Here, here!” chorused the room. "My family thanks you for letting us take over this place and turn it into the exclusive club Velykie can be proud of!" Darren declared. Kelan Benedict stood and saluted the room with his wine glass and took a swig. “Brothers and lovely guests,” he began, eyeing the ladies around the room dressed in tight-fitting evening gowns. “Tonight, I thank you for this gracious meal. Hopefully, the future will bring mutual benefit as the Benedict family begins its absorption of Velyki and then Targu!” There was a round of cheers and Kelan slumped back into his seat, wrapping his arm around Clarise, a tall attractive blonde dressed in a red dress that did wonders for her figure. “Brother Kelan,” came a grading voice beside him as someone sat down on the couch. Kelan took h
Monday morning broke with a cool spring breeze showing the last vestiges of winter before summer’s heat. Conor tossed his suitcase into the back of the SUV and hopped into the passenger seat.Parker drove them to Kerrigan’s house, pausing briefly to acknowledge the gate guard. Conor recognized him as one of Colonel Eli’s men he had seen around Vokrizin.“Jamison is a good man. He will make sure nothing happens to Miss Lokir’s house while you all are away,” Parker said.Conor just nodded.They pulled up to Kerrigan’s house and Parker honked twice.Conor jumped out when he saw the four ladies exit with several bags each. He and Parker quickly moved to help and filled the back of the SUV with bags, nearly completely blocking any hope of looking out the back window.“Guess you are moving out. No plans to return?” Conor asked.Kerrigan replied smoothly, “I am sure I will be back. This isn’t a fraction of what is in that house.”Parker closed the trunk and addressed everyone, “The Colonel do
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 twent
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