Job

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 communicated.

Indeed. Mamma. I pondered this for a moment, then tried to send a message back.

"No, Daddy," I corrected him.

"Mamma," he accepted.

He ceased his struggles and seemed to grow calm in my hand. I realized then how exhausted he was, and subsequently noted my own fatigue.

Additionally, we were both starving. Suddenly, a question dawned on me—What on earth was I supposed to feed him? I had carried him around all this time, aware that he would hatch eventually, but it had never truly sunk in that a living, breathing Vorgan would be present.

With him in tow, I moved into the kitchen and began my search. Milk seemed like a good starting point.

I managed to grab a saucer and pour a little milk into it. Placing it on the counter, I set the Vorgan next to it, his head resting in the saucer.

He lapped up a little milk without issue, so I continued my search and finally located a small piece of hawk wing. I placed it in the saucer, and he found it almost immediately. He tore off a piece (his teeth were already functional—excellent) and began chewing. After around three minutes, he swallowed without a hitch. I breathed a sigh of relief.

Satisfied, he seemed more weary than hungry, so I cradled him and moved back to the couch. I reclined and laid him on my stomach, and soon fell asleep. We shared soothing dreams.

The following day, someone knocked on my door around mid-afternoon. As I opened the door, I instantly recognized him. He was the man who had been managing the game the previous day and who had expelled me at knife-point.

Driven by curiosity, I invited him in.

"Thank you," he replied. "I am known as Voltaire."

"Please make yourself comfortable, my lord. I am Viktor Dravos. Would you like some wine?"

"Thank you, but no. I don't anticipate staying long."

"As you wish."

I guided him to a chair and took my seat on the couch, cradling my Vorgan. Voltaire raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

"How may I assist you, then?" I inquired.

"I've been made aware," he began, "that I might have been hasty in blaming you for yesterday's incident."

Wait, was an Imperion apologizing to a Terraner? I was left wondering if the world was on the brink of collapse. This was, mildly put, a first in my life. After all, I was a mere sixteen-year-old human, and he was an Imperion likely nearing a thousand years.

"That's most generous of you to acknowledge, my lord," I responded, somewhat stunned.

He dismissed it casually. "Moreover, I was impressed by how you conducted yourself."

He was? I certainly wasn't. What exactly was happening here?

"The point I'm trying to make," he continued, "is that I could do with someone like you in my employ, considering you're currently without work and—" His sentence trailed off into a nonchalant shrug.

There were countless questions I wanted to ask him, starting with, "How do you know so much about me, and why does it matter to you?" But I didn't quite know how to approach them, so I responded, "With all due respect, my lord, I fail to see what sort of tasks I could carry out for you."

He shrugged again. "For starters, you could prevent the kind of issues we encountered last night. Additionally, I occasionally need assistance with debt collection. That sort of thing. Usually, I have two aides to help run the place, but one of them had an unfortunate incident last week, which has left me a bit short-staffed at the moment."

Something about the way he referred to the "incident" gave me pause, but I didn't let it distract me.

"Once again, with all due respect, my lord, I doubt a Terraner would appear very intimidating when confronting an Imperion. I'm not sure that I—"

"I firmly believe that it won't be an issue," he interjected. "We have a mutual acquaintance, and she assured me that you're capable of handling such tasks. As it turns out, I owe her a favor or two, and she requested that I consider employing you."

She? There was no question about it. Liora was watching over me again, her kindness shining through. Things suddenly began to make more sense.

"As for your compensation," he continued, "it would be four Imperials per week, plus a ten percent commission on any outstanding debts you collect.

Or, actually, half of that, considering you'll be partnering with my other assistant."

Good heavens! Four gold a week? That was already more than I typically earned while managing the Inn! And the commission, even if shared with—

"Are you certain that your assistant won't take issue with working with a Terraner?" I asked.

His gaze hardened slightly. "That's my concern," he responded. "And for your information, I've already spoken with Thorne, and he has no objections."

I nodded. "I'll need to contemplate it," I said.

"That's perfectly fine. You know where to find me."

I nodded again and escorted him to the door, exchanging courteous goodbyes. After the door clicked shut, I turned my gaze to my Vorgan.

"Well," I asked him, "what's your take on this?"

The Vorgan remained silent, but then again, I hadn't expected a response. I sat down to think, contemplating whether this was a solution to my future, or merely a temporary reprieve. But I decided to shelve that thought for a moment. I had a more pressing question to address—what was I going to name my Vorgan?

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We need golden tickets and power stones to help the book get more exposure.

If we reach 1500 power stones, I will release two supplementary chapters.

If we reach 100 golden tickets, I will release five supplementary chapters.

Thank You