3rd Spring 516
There was a sharp knock on the door to the back room, Alija rising to open it. She had been slouched in the forge, trying to think things over. She had had a dream, that night, about her mother. She couldn’t remember much, apart from the chains, and she shuddered at the memory. Deep inside, she felt her mother still out there, and hated herself for not looking. But in truth, she was scared. Terrified. Terrified of her aunt, who would pick up on her asking around, terrified of the places it might take her and terrified of what might wait for her.
She creaked it open slowly, wondering why Ciara hadn’t tended to this customer. He was an older man, with greying hair and nimble fingers which ran a key over his hand in a constant loop. She recognised him - it took her moment to remember why, but then it clicked. She had bought that lock from him, for the chest for Laat. Her mind lingered on that for a moment, wondering what had happened to it. Had the demigod ever even seen it, did he appreciate it if he had? She had poured hours of work into it - hopefully, it had pleased someone. Her mind lingered on that a little too long, with the locksmith coughing sharply. “Gregory Hanlin, we’ve met before,” he extended a hand, and Alija took it, finding his handshake too firm for a man who couldn’t keep still.
“Yes, yes, I know,” she lead him inside the back room, peering curiously around the shop for Ciara, “Do you happen to know where Ciara, the clerk, has gone?”
“Don’t fret about that!” Gregory waved his fingers in the air, dismissing it without a thought, “I forgot some papers, I simply sent her to go fetch them. I suppose that’s alright - she didn’t complain, and there aren’t going to be very many customers.”
Alija frowned, not exactly happy. Maybe she was just being paranoid, but sending Ciara off just like that didn’t seem like an ordinary action. No man entered another person’s shop and began bossing their workers around, sending them away when they should be doing business. What would he do if she did that to him and his employees? Probably wouldn’t be very happy.
What worried her more was that she knew little about him. She was alone, in the shop with him and he had sent away the only other person. Sure, he was a businessman, and a good one, but that meant nothing. She was here defenceless. Lost in thoughts again, Gregory had to cough again to get her back to reality. “Sorry. What papers would these be?” she began questioning, paranoid about what he was planning, “What were you interested in?”
She was blunt, nervous and her hands were visibly shaking, despite her trying to hide them behind her back. His own flickered back and forth, waving more as if all she said was irrelevant. “You don’t need to worry - I want a business proposal. What do you say?”
Alija froze, wondering what he wanted. Surely he didn’t need anything from her - when she went to him, he was doing fine, and didn’t need anything at all. What was he plotting? Was trap was he trying to snare her in? “I can’t just agree to anything,” she finally responded, frowning further, “When will Ciara return?”
“It depends on how quickly she went. She seemed quite relaxed though - probably twenty chimes, depending on whether she gets distracted, or how quickly they find the papers - my own clerk isn’t exactly the brightest.” His blaise tone annoyed her. Didn’t he realise how uncomfortable she was feeling? A business proposal and this whole situation was exactly what she didn’t want.
“Please,” she sighed, trying to calm and concentrate on business, “What is this proposal?” Her heart still beat quickly, and she wrung her hands in each other, keeping them still while Gregory did the opposite, hooking his finger around the end of his key and spinning it lightly.
“Shall we sit?” he spoke, ignoring her immediate question and pulling out a chair for her before taking his own. She didn’t like the way he acted - this was not his shop and it was not his place to do this. But she sat anyway, tucking herself under the table and shaking a strand of hair to frame her face a little bit more.
“And…?” she finally spoke again, waiting for him to say something. He frowned, mirroring her previous actions, and raised a finger, deciding what was bothering him.
There was a sharp knock on the door to the back room, Alija rising to open it. She had been slouched in the forge, trying to think things over. She had had a dream, that night, about her mother. She couldn’t remember much, apart from the chains, and she shuddered at the memory. Deep inside, she felt her mother still out there, and hated herself for not looking. But in truth, she was scared. Terrified. Terrified of her aunt, who would pick up on her asking around, terrified of the places it might take her and terrified of what might wait for her.
She creaked it open slowly, wondering why Ciara hadn’t tended to this customer. He was an older man, with greying hair and nimble fingers which ran a key over his hand in a constant loop. She recognised him - it took her moment to remember why, but then it clicked. She had bought that lock from him, for the chest for Laat. Her mind lingered on that for a moment, wondering what had happened to it. Had the demigod ever even seen it, did he appreciate it if he had? She had poured hours of work into it - hopefully, it had pleased someone. Her mind lingered on that a little too long, with the locksmith coughing sharply. “Gregory Hanlin, we’ve met before,” he extended a hand, and Alija took it, finding his handshake too firm for a man who couldn’t keep still.
“Yes, yes, I know,” she lead him inside the back room, peering curiously around the shop for Ciara, “Do you happen to know where Ciara, the clerk, has gone?”
“Don’t fret about that!” Gregory waved his fingers in the air, dismissing it without a thought, “I forgot some papers, I simply sent her to go fetch them. I suppose that’s alright - she didn’t complain, and there aren’t going to be very many customers.”
Alija frowned, not exactly happy. Maybe she was just being paranoid, but sending Ciara off just like that didn’t seem like an ordinary action. No man entered another person’s shop and began bossing their workers around, sending them away when they should be doing business. What would he do if she did that to him and his employees? Probably wouldn’t be very happy.
What worried her more was that she knew little about him. She was alone, in the shop with him and he had sent away the only other person. Sure, he was a businessman, and a good one, but that meant nothing. She was here defenceless. Lost in thoughts again, Gregory had to cough again to get her back to reality. “Sorry. What papers would these be?” she began questioning, paranoid about what he was planning, “What were you interested in?”
She was blunt, nervous and her hands were visibly shaking, despite her trying to hide them behind her back. His own flickered back and forth, waving more as if all she said was irrelevant. “You don’t need to worry - I want a business proposal. What do you say?”
Alija froze, wondering what he wanted. Surely he didn’t need anything from her - when she went to him, he was doing fine, and didn’t need anything at all. What was he plotting? Was trap was he trying to snare her in? “I can’t just agree to anything,” she finally responded, frowning further, “When will Ciara return?”
“It depends on how quickly she went. She seemed quite relaxed though - probably twenty chimes, depending on whether she gets distracted, or how quickly they find the papers - my own clerk isn’t exactly the brightest.” His blaise tone annoyed her. Didn’t he realise how uncomfortable she was feeling? A business proposal and this whole situation was exactly what she didn’t want.
“Please,” she sighed, trying to calm and concentrate on business, “What is this proposal?” Her heart still beat quickly, and she wrung her hands in each other, keeping them still while Gregory did the opposite, hooking his finger around the end of his key and spinning it lightly.
“Shall we sit?” he spoke, ignoring her immediate question and pulling out a chair for her before taking his own. She didn’t like the way he acted - this was not his shop and it was not his place to do this. But she sat anyway, tucking herself under the table and shaking a strand of hair to frame her face a little bit more.
“And…?” she finally spoke again, waiting for him to say something. He frowned, mirroring her previous actions, and raised a finger, deciding what was bothering him.
