William Anderson
Stories
6
Chapters
2,147
Words
340.2 K
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Reading
1 d, 4 h
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"Are you prepared to leave, then?" Nyxara asked. "You should depart soon because if you sleep, none of you will live again, and there are imperial rules against the undead holding official imperial positions." Thaleia said firmly, "I will not leave without my cousin." "So be it," snapped Nyxara. "Then you will stay. However, if you change your mind, the way out is through the arch your friends know, then to the left, past the Cycle, and onward. You may take it if you can. The Lord Drevolan will find…
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Thaleia started, "My Lord, we are—" "Yes, I know. I can't assist you. The only way out is the one you're familiar with. Any purple robe can guide you back there. I'm sorry." He genuinely appeared to be remorseful, but his gaze remained fixed on Thaleia. Annoyance flashed across Thaleia's face as her nostrils flared. "Very well, then," she said, and we left Verill behind. Locating a purple robe in that place was as easy as finding a Baku in the market. Indeed, the purple-robed figure was willing…
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"Charming lot, aren't they?" "I agree, boss." Kyran turned to Thaleia, "Are you absolutely sure he's not my issue?" "Yes," Thaleia asserted. I wished I could comprehend the context of this exchange. Kyran nodded, "Well, in that case, perhaps he's not. Would you like to sit?" "No," she declined. "So, what do you want?" She advanced towards him, her legs slightly wobbly. Stopping about half a foot from him, she demanded, "You may guide us out of the Paths as a compensation for your…
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I involuntarily took a step back from the founder of the Imperion Empire, my mind buzzing with a swarm of thoughts and emotions racing too quickly to identify. Fear and anger vied for control of my reactions, but for once, reason prevailed. We maintained our stances for a moment. Kyran continued observing Thaleia. Something about their mutual gaze hinted at a prior acquaintance. I couldn't fathom how, given Kyran's age was synonymous with the Empire, and Thaleia was under a millennium old, however you…
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* * * * The transition from viewing myself as someone's muscle, occasionally performing 'tasks', to seeing myself as an independent hitman, is somewhat hazy. Part of the confusion comes from the fact that I served multiple employers during and post-war, including Nichols himself. It seems those around me began labeling me that way before I did, but my self-perception didn't shift until I'd built professional habits and a systematic approach to the job. Precisely when this transformation happened is…
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Then Nyxara gave us a smile and sauntered away. Thaleia began to stir. Her eyes flickered open, unfocused. She was even more striking alive than she had been in her still state. Drevolan and I watched her for a moment, until he softly said, "Thaleia?" Her gaze locked onto him. After a moment's pause, her expression turned confused. She tried to utter something, hesitated, cleared her throat and rasped, "Who are you?" He replied, "I'm your cousin, Drevolan D'Lira. I am the firstborn of your father's…
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After a moment, Nyxara acknowledged, "So, she has been discovered." Drevolan nodded in confirmation. Turning to me, Nyxara asked, "And how does the Terran fit into all of this?" "He played a part in her retrieval." "I see." "Now that she's been found, we request that she be allowed to resume her life from the point where…" "Save the intricacies," Nyxara interrupted. Drevolan fell silent. Celethor stated, "What you ask is beyond possibility." "Is it really?" Nyxara countered. "It's also…
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What remains a mystery is the whereabouts of my earnings. Given the high fees for assassination, I should've been wealthy. I was residing in a pleasantly comfortable apartment (truly lovely, with a stunning blue and white carpet and a spacious kitchen equipped with a built-in wood stove), but its cost wasn't exorbitant. I ate well, spent a substantial amount on magic lessons, and hired a top-tier fencing instructor, but none of these expenditures accounted for the amount of money I was earning. I'm not…
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The following morning, I teleported back, and to my surprise, no one mentioned what I presumed was a massive slip-up. Over the next months, I learned it hadn't really been such a blunder. Apparently, it was customary to send the executioner out of town post-mission, especially during wartime. I also discovered that Torchtown was a bit of a trope, often referred to as Killertown. I decided never to return. However, something peculiar struck me immediately and still baffles me. My boss was aware that I had…
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Grasping the sheer enormity of a dragon is no easy task. I could tell you that it could swallow me whole, without needing to chew twice. I could describe the strange, tentacle-like appendages surrounding its head, each longer than my height and as thick as my leg. I could explain that its shoulders reached about eighteen feet in height and its length surpassed that. But, until you encounter one up close, the reality of it is unfathomable. Opal dove under my cloak. I wished I could join him. Drevolan…
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