Impish

[Ivar]

123 Glade 40th

Hunched over a desk cluttered with parchment, quills, and inkwells, Ivar focused his attention on a set of neatly handwritten notes. The soft, ambient light of his solitary candle flickered, casting shadows across the paper, making the arcane symbols dance with a life of their own. Studying demanded his undivided attention.

Footsteps broke the concentrated silence of the room, the soft pad of bare feet on the wooden floor causing his jaw to tense. The lingering scent of cheap perfume filled the air, a reminder of his companionship the previous night.

Ivar didn't even glance up as she approached, her form moving into the periphery of his vision. He ignored the sound of her voice, choosing instead to make some more notes with his quill.

"What are you doing hun?" she finally asked, curiosity pulling her voice into a near whisper.

"You're disturbing my work. You should leave."

She stared at him, taken aback by his harshness. The jovial man who had shared his bed last night had been replaced with this focused, cold scholar. Her expression shifted from curiosity to wounded surprise.

"But I thought..." she began, but Ivar cut her off, not even glancing at her.

"Your thought was incorrect," he stated, the words falling like ice from his lips.

His irritation was a simmering pot, the residue of a disrupted sleep and a frustrating morning. The woman had been a pleasant distraction when he had first invited her to his quarters. But her drunken stupor, her insistence to stay when she was too inebriated to return to her own home, had strained his patience. It was the woman’s incessant snoring that had been the final nail in the coffin.

There was a brief silence as she stared at him, her expression a mix of confusion and hurt. After a moment, she gathered her scattered clothes from the floor and began to dress, her movements quick and hasty. Ivar watched her from the corner of his eye. He noted her rush, the way her hands trembled as she fumbled with her clothes.

Guilt tried to claw its way into his conscience, but he squashed it mercilessly. The last thing he needed was this woman hanging around while he practiced summoning. Judging from how badly the last time had gone, her physical health would have been in danger.

His eyes skimmed over the texts, his mind engrossed in arcane theory and the detailed descriptions of various spiritual entities. He looked up from his reading and sighed, the tranquil silence of the room broken only by the occasional crackling of the candle's wick.

A thought flashed through Ivar's mind. With a newfound understanding of the arcane and the hours of research he had conducted, he decided to summon the little imp he had met once before. His intention was not for servitude or help this time, but for conversation and understanding. Drawing upon the the abilities granted by his new rune, Ivar muttered the name of the creature.

With a flash of light and a puff of sulfurous smoke, the imp appeared through the portal he opened for it. It was a small creature, no more than a foot tall, with reddish skin, pointed ears, and gleaming yellow eyes that peered curiously at Ivar.

"Listen, you imp," Ivar began, his voice firm and clear. "I only summoned you for a conversation for now. You are to sit there and not do anything else. Understand?"

The imp smirked, a sinister grin splitting its face. "Whatever you say," it replied, its voice a guttural croak, dripping with sarcasm.

True to its nature, the imp didn't stay put for long. It started jumping around, knocking over inkwells, scattering papers, and generally creating a ruckus. Ivar observed the imp's misbehavior with a calm demeanor that belied his growing frustration.

"I see you've learned nothing since we last met," he said, a note of stern warning entering his voice.

When his words had no effect, Ivar steeled his resolve. He focused his energies, channeling his magic into a mild but painful shock that he sent coursing through the imp's body. The creature squealed, curling into itself as the sudden pain hit it.

"That," Ivar stated, his voice echoing with newfound authority, "is to remind you of our arrangement. I've learned a thing or two since the last time we met."

The imp, visibly shocked and taken aback, gazed at Ivar with a mix of respect and fear. "Alright, alright," it muttered, rubbing its bottom where the shock had hit. It finally settled down, sitting opposite Ivar and gazing at him warily.

Ivar nodded, satisfied. He looked at the imp, who had finally settled down, its yellow eyes now glowed with a subdued mischief. "Are you comfortable?" Ivar inquired, pushing away the scattered parchments and creating a clearer space between them.

"As comfortable as an imp could be," it replied, its voice a mixture of annoyance and curiosity. It was visibly happier now. Ivar realized that the connection between them, the channel of aether which bound the imp to his will, also sustained it. He thought of the implications, the balance between summoner and summoning, the exchange of service for sustenance. He wondered if it was possible for him to take aether from the imp, but he wasn’t foolhardy enough to try it.

Noticing the imp's continual glances around the room, Ivar sighed. "You're upset you can't cause mischief, aren't you?"

The imp looked taken aback by the observation but then shrugged nonchalantly. "What's life without a little fun, right?" It stared longingly at the pile of parchments, the unused inkwell, and the lone candle, its yellow eyes twinkling with mischievous intent.

Ivar couldn't help but chuckle. The imp's love for chaos was something he'd read about it. It was an intrinsic part of their nature. However, he knew the delicate balance between allowing the creature its fun and maintaining control.

"I understand your desire for mischief," Ivar said. "I know a place where you can run around and cause as much chaos as you want. Come with me."

The imp pursed its lips, seemingly mulling over Ivar's words. It then sighed, a long, dramatic, sigh, before reluctantly nodding. "Fine, I'll come along. But only because your aether tastes so good."

Drawing from his aether, Ivar held out his hand and space distorted a little. It glowed with a mystifying energy before opening into a full-fledged portal, a shimmering gateway that hung in the air like an oddity of space. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he held the portal open, guiding the imp forward with his other hand. "We're going in there, got it?" he instructed, nodding towards the aperture that led to the midden.

They stepped through and with a flick of his wrist, he held up a shard of illumite. The soft glow it emitted pierced through the inky darkness of the sewers, casting long shadows around them and revealing the gritty terrain. Ivar's eyes scanned their surroundings until they landed on a small slime. It was a gelatinous mass that pulsated ominously under the illumite's glow.

"See that, little guy?" he directed at the imp. "That's a slime. If you can take that down, you can prove you're worth your salt and you’ll get a good chunk of my aether as a reward," he stated matter-of-factly, giving the imp a pointed look. To his surprise, the imp let out a small growl before bounding towards the slime. It sprung at the creature with a gusto that belied its small size, its claws tearing into the gelatinous body of the slime.

Ivar watched in disbelief as the imp tore through the slime with a ferocity he hadn't expected. He stood there, frozen in place as the imp continued its onslaught until nothing was left of the slime but tiny remnants of its former self. He was taken aback at the sheer strength the imp had displayed. Once the slime was destroyed, the imp started chucking the contents of the slime all over the place.

"All right, that's enough," he said, stepping forward to retrieve the imp but the imp had already run off to the next slime to tear into it. Ivar got the feeling that it enjoyed destroying things. Ivar didn’t complain. He never would have thought it would be so entertaining to see an imp go crazy like this.

“Okay, I said that’s enough,” he called again. “Go back to whence you came!” The imp flashed him an evil grin and then faded away.

With another wave of his hand, Ivar summoned another portal back home. As he stepped through the portal, he found himself back at his room. He went to his desk and jotted down his observations. He found himself musing over the potential of the imp. Its strength, its agility, the raw power it displayed, it all held promising signs. "What’s truly interesting is that this is one of the weaker spirits I can summon. I wonder how destructive a powerful infernal spirit can be," he muttered to himself.

But for now, he needed to rest and recollect his thoughts. His teachers would allow him summon a stronger spirit soon, he was sure of it.

[Ivar]

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