42nd of Summer, 518
It was astounding, really, what a bit of perspective added to things. Little by little, the mindset that Sunberth and its people were terrible was diminishing. If only just. Farris still lived in fear on a daily basis, but the days spent at the Fence brought the mage to the realization that at the end of the day, these people could be his own. He'd found an easy banter with the patronage, and he thought fondly of what the day might offer as he held a rag in his hand. The Fence was not yet open for business, as the Reimancer took an opportunity to clean the place. Zeke had other pressing matters to attend to and thus left Farris to his own devices. If Farris was a guessing man, he supposed that Zeke realized that the young man's wit far exceeded the job he'd placed himself in. Would Zeke question it? No, as it provided him with an employee that was more than capable of keeping the place in working order. Satisfied with the notion, Farris wrung out a rag outside the store. He'd press it to the grime infested windows and with a steady push, a shining streak of clean space was left behind. Another four of them and the window was almost transparent again, and satisfied with the effort Farris made his way back inside.
Following his efforts in cleaning the window, he began to purify the desk that he stood behind, ridding it of grime that might have been there for years. Cobwebs were subsequently tracked down and eradicated, Farris employing the use of a broom to reasonable effect. Farris wasn't a maid but he was also organized in his own home and detested seeing his work place in such disrepair. He'd, perhaps, in a jest of tongue and cheek bring up his efforts to Zeke and ask for a raise, but it was by no means a pressing concern. Once he was satisfied that the place was cleaner than it was outside, he'd push open the door. Setting a rock at the entrance to coax a breeze into the storefront, Farris set his efforts to the other tasks he had for the morning. He produced his journal from his rucksack, placing the back behind the till before he decided to create a list. Organized was the best way to approach everything, and his job was no different. The easy strokes of a pen were quite relaxing, and Farris looked up every few ticks to make sure that no one was making their way through the entrance as he inscribed:
To Do List - Opening.
1. Wipe down the front window.
2. Broom and Dustpan.
3. Count the till.
4. Create a ledger for daily transactions.
5. Bugger off until customers arrive.
Zeke didn't bother giving Farris tasks or tell him how to run the place, leaving him to his own devices so long as the mizas kept pouring in. The young man appreciated the freedom, and found that perhaps the greediest, seediest Sunberthians were the best ones to befriend. A strange realization given how he'd hated those same attributes just days before.
Things change and there's no reason to be so adamant. This place isn't new to me, but my outlook certainly can be. Logic is your friend here. It provides a hard counter to the brashness of the city.
An easy chuckle escaped the mage's lips as his musing poured freely into his thoughts. It was chimes of mental back-and-forths before the monotony was broken and a customer entered the storefront. By the teenager's shifting gaze and hunched posture, Farris assumed that he was selling. But, what were his wares? Only time would tell. A smile cast upon the bearded man's lips as he leaned forward, too tall to reach eye level with the boy but making an honest effort to meet his gaze nonetheless.
"What'll it be, boy?" he asked, forgoing the politeness and poise that a normal shopkeeper might be compelled to possess. This was the petching Fence, and everyone knew what was going on here. It was... liberating, to say the least.
Following his efforts in cleaning the window, he began to purify the desk that he stood behind, ridding it of grime that might have been there for years. Cobwebs were subsequently tracked down and eradicated, Farris employing the use of a broom to reasonable effect. Farris wasn't a maid but he was also organized in his own home and detested seeing his work place in such disrepair. He'd, perhaps, in a jest of tongue and cheek bring up his efforts to Zeke and ask for a raise, but it was by no means a pressing concern. Once he was satisfied that the place was cleaner than it was outside, he'd push open the door. Setting a rock at the entrance to coax a breeze into the storefront, Farris set his efforts to the other tasks he had for the morning. He produced his journal from his rucksack, placing the back behind the till before he decided to create a list. Organized was the best way to approach everything, and his job was no different. The easy strokes of a pen were quite relaxing, and Farris looked up every few ticks to make sure that no one was making their way through the entrance as he inscribed:
To Do List - Opening.
1. Wipe down the front window.
2. Broom and Dustpan.
3. Count the till.
4. Create a ledger for daily transactions.
5. Bugger off until customers arrive.
Zeke didn't bother giving Farris tasks or tell him how to run the place, leaving him to his own devices so long as the mizas kept pouring in. The young man appreciated the freedom, and found that perhaps the greediest, seediest Sunberthians were the best ones to befriend. A strange realization given how he'd hated those same attributes just days before.
Things change and there's no reason to be so adamant. This place isn't new to me, but my outlook certainly can be. Logic is your friend here. It provides a hard counter to the brashness of the city.
An easy chuckle escaped the mage's lips as his musing poured freely into his thoughts. It was chimes of mental back-and-forths before the monotony was broken and a customer entered the storefront. By the teenager's shifting gaze and hunched posture, Farris assumed that he was selling. But, what were his wares? Only time would tell. A smile cast upon the bearded man's lips as he leaned forward, too tall to reach eye level with the boy but making an honest effort to meet his gaze nonetheless.
"What'll it be, boy?" he asked, forgoing the politeness and poise that a normal shopkeeper might be compelled to possess. This was the petching Fence, and everyone knew what was going on here. It was... liberating, to say the least.
