William Anderson
Stories
6
Chapters
2,147
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340.2 K
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Reading
1 d, 4 h
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Reflecting on my current knowledge, I don't believe my memory is deceiving me. One instance, when I was around seven years old, my father caught me talking to Alarus and frowned. "Are you not fond of cats, Papa?" I asked. "No, it's not that," he replied dismissively. In the background, I faintly remember spotting Vost-pa observing the interaction, his face adorned with a subtle smile. Humans practice Sorcery, Imperions excel at Wizardry. As someone skilled in both arts, a rarity in itself, I find…
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One aspect that greatly elucidated the Imperion mindset for me was when I discovered they didn't have a specific term for brandy, despite having the beverage. They labelled it as wine and seemingly differentiated it based on the maker's reputation regarding its strength and flavor. To me, brandy and wine are drastically different in taste, and perhaps they are for Imperions too. However, Imperions seem indifferent about these differences, or that the production process of each beverage is distinct; to…
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"That's why I suggest I should accompany you. He won't even notice my presence." "Negative," I replied. "He's allowed me to come over. He said nothing about me bringing along a chaperone. If he did spot you—" "He would get that it's standard practice in the Vorgan. He must have some knowledge of our workings." "I reiterate: no." "But—" "Discussion over, Thorne." He shut his eyes and let out a sigh that lingered in the air akin to a Lurivox's courting call. He opened his eyes again. "Fine.…
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I sighed heavily. "Alright. Try to arrange it, will you? And pass the coordinates to Selendis. I'd rather not spend excessively on the Bitch Patrol, so I'll just put up with a bumpy journey." "Why don't you manage it on your own, then?" "Not that bumpy." "Turning frugal, boss?" "You imply I wasn't before?" "Understood, Viktor." Thorne exited the room. * * * * With a few years of hindsight, I must admit that I don't perceive my father as having been harsh. Just the two of us existed, which…
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"What makes Pardus Mountain so extraordinary?" I asked. "Alyssra Volade," Thorne replied. "Okay, what's so unique about—" "She's a Wraith, a shape-changer, she possesses a Great Weapon, she's probably the deadliest Wizard alive, and she has a tendency to kill anyone who approaches her. That's unless she chooses to transform them into a Morga or Vorgan instead." "Being a Vorgan isn't the worst fate, boss." "Quiet, Opal." I questioned, "How much of this is verified and how much is mere…
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I named him "Opal." He affectionately called me "Mamma." I began his training. He reciprocated with bites. Gradually, over the following months, I became resistant to his venom. Even more gradually, over several years, I grew somewhat tolerant of his peculiar sense of humor. As I found my footing in my new profession, Opal proved to be of great assistance. Initially, it was minimal, but it soon grew significantly. After all, who pays any attention to another Vorgan flying around the city? But a Vorgan,…
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Unexpectedly, he seemed to notice my movement. He couldn't seem to associate my actions with the thoughts he was receiving from me, as I felt a sudden spike of fear from him, and he attempted to squirm away. His efforts were futile, and I carefully picked him up, earning both a distinct mental message and a small bite from the newborn Vorgan. The bite was too minor, and the venom too weak to affect me, but it was clear his fangs were already functional. His message was crystal clear. "Mamma?" he…
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Nevertheless, this new reality presented an imminent challenge: how to sustain my livelihood, not just in the immediate future but also in the long term. My grandfather proposed a partnership in his Sorcery business. However, it was evident to me that the enterprise barely provided enough for him to manage solo. Liora offered to tutor me in her line of work, but as a Terran thief, it was hard to secure good deals from Imperion fences. Besides, my grandfather disapproved of thievery. Despite the…
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"Mother," I projected my thoughts back, as lucidly as I could manage, "I desire one of your eggs." She didn't assault me, nor did I perceive any confusion or indignation at my proposition. That was promising. My spell had drawn her here, and she would likely be open to negotiation. A surge of anticipation began to bubble within me, which I swiftly suppressed. My focus returned to the Vorgan in front of me. This stage was almost akin to a ritual, albeit not quite. Everything hinged on what the Vorgan…
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I looked up at the cloudy veil that cloaks the Imperion Empire, without a hint of the brilliant orange-red sky my grandfather had spoken of from his Terran homeland. He often described the starlit nights, and I experienced them vicariously through his shared visions. He had the unique ability to share his thoughts with me, which was an integral part of his teachings on sorcery. It was this education that led me, a sixteen-year-old, into the jungle. Despite being overcast, the sky lit the jungle enough…
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