Category: Short Stories

  • A Foppish Coup, Part 14

    Sienna stood outside the door of her father’s study. Her hand rested on the wood paneling, trying to trust herself to knock. The Koskov children were all abed. Sophie took much longer than the boys. She had questions for the older girl. Questions about boys, and clothes, and the finer aspects of arranging an orchestral accompaniment to an address of the court. Sienna had answers to two of those, but the chance to talk was […]

    READ MORE
  • The Ax Rises

    The Ax Rises “Well, ladies and gents, the final match of the Ionian Cup is just about to get underway. Tauren against the Sun, ARE YOU READY FOR SCRAMCRASH?” This was truly living. Hear the roar of thirty thousand strong. Think of how many more are watching the projections back home. Let their screams pump through your veins. Feel it in your chest, your soul. Let their fire fuel your own. Time to take the […]

    READ MORE
  • A Foppish Coup, Part 13

    The man wore a hood to disguise his features, not that Canterwright couldn’t tell who it was. The fine clothes, the rings on his fingers. The fact that the new man looked like he wanted to burn the place down and put up a salon. “Yoric,” Canterwright muttered. “What are you doing here?” “Watching,” the noble growled. “Not that there was much to watch.” Canterwright looked around, and nodded. He leaned back, and slipped out […]

    READ MORE
  • A Foppish Coup, Part 12

    Every eye in the room was fixated upon him. Someone who spoke, but almost apologized beforehand. And worse…a tax collector. Jakob cleared his throat, and tugged at his collar. He did not normally drink in public, especially at one of the rowdier establishments in Vladisburg. But when he had heard of a possible convocation to speak on Viola’s rule, he felt a duty to attend. If only he had known the tenor, he might have […]

    READ MORE
  • A Foppish Coup, Part 11

                Dear words, how often I feel thy sting.             To be poetic, thou art so beauteous. Your curved grace, the lift and fall that can raise the viewer to highest of heavens. I love your sight, your sound, your taste. To be in the presence of such words cannot help but fill mine ear, my soul with glory.             But words are not always so kind. In fact, your malice far outweighs your grace. […]

    READ MORE
  • A Foppish Coup, Part 10

    Willow Sam turned around, and saw fire. A man stood there. His face was drawn, weathered. His silver hair was worn in fine curls that trailed across his face, thinning as he neared middle-age. He wore fine furs, lined with filigree. Even so, this was a man who knew how to wield the axe by his side, or the torch in his right hand, held aloft. And from the look in his eyes, he had […]

    READ MORE