The sound of a rawhide mallet, clashing with the small metal rod was a therapeutic reprieve. With one final strike, the custom ordered purse was given its final stamp, her personal insignia showing, to the world, this gaudy red and pastel pink creation had come from her shop. This purse hadn't taken as long as she thought it would have, and now that it was done, she could call the customer and get the rest of her money for the creation.
The decorative sleigh bells she had hung on the door rang out as she placed the large purse on a shelf next to other custom ordered pieces, awaiting pickup. The heavy odor of leather and glue, which always hung in the air disappeared as a woman entered the storefront.
"Welcome to Atlantis Leatherworks, how can I assist you today?" The young woman asked.
"I don't want to speak to some pleabian attendant, bring me Master Bowers." Brieanna had delt with this kind of person a lot lately. Its probably why she was ahead on the custom orders, and her normal stock was up to the quotas she wanted to keep. She could already tell this was a customer she didn't want to deal with.
"I am the only one here; if you don't wish to speak with me, there is no one who can assist you." She answered with a smile meant for customer service; glad once again, her buisness cards only stated 'Master Leathersmith B. Bowers'. So those who were given these cards often thought the Master of the shop was a man.
"I will wait for Master Bowers, I have nothing else to do today." The woman retorted, then promptly mumbled loud enough to be heard, "stupid help, thinking they are above their station."
Brieanna lost all manner of decorum at this point, and came out from behind her counter. "Mam, its time I properly introduce myself." Although the look on her face was pleasant, the woman knew, without a doubt, she was now dealing with someone very angry. "My name is Brieanna Bowers, as of six months ago, I am one of seven Master Leathersmiths in this country. A Master leathersmith, is someone who not only makes leather goods like wallets, purses, and decorative pieces, but we also are able to Tan the leather we use ourselves, and are able to make anything from keychains, and earnings, to saddles, and hardened leather armor."
The woman, seeming to understand the magnatude of her mistake, began to stutter. 'We...we...well, I...I..I'm sorry if I offended you. Would you be able to..."
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The woman was cut off. "No. Whatever you're going to ask, no. If you were going to treat an employee like you just treated me, then this conversation, would have been much shorter. As far as I am concerned: you are now trespassing. Leave." Brieanna watched as the woman's expression paled, and then quickly left.
The young leathersmith sat on a nearby stool, and relaxed somewhat. The ever strong smell of leather began thickening in the air once more. She pulled the work apron off of herself, and hung it on the hook she had used for the last five years. She gingerly touched the stitching on one of the pockets, still recalling the day, five years ago, when she had put those very stitches through the leather. Although rough by her current standards, she was still very proud of this apron, the first item she made from leather as an apprentice.
The smell of leather disappeared once more as the door opened, she turned to look at the newcomer, half expecting to see the previous woman. The smell of rain filled her senses, and handidly overpowered whatever scent of leather was left. It was then, she realized, the sleigh bells hadn't rung.
Before Brieanna could greet the newcomer, he began speaking. "I have been sent to retrieve you. And I have been given strict instructions that I am to remove your self-imposed curse."
Dumbfounded by his words, and the attempt to figure out what he meant, she was caught off guard when he seemed to suddenly appear in front of her. His brass colored eyes drew her in, and she neglected to notice the silver orb the man shoved into her stomach. It wad neither painful, nor pleasant. As soon as the man's palm touched her stomach, memories flooded her.
She was not the 20 year old leather worker, her experiences were far far older than possible for one so young. The man in front of her had a name, and she knew him. Where moments ago, she didn't even recognize him.
Milo, The Ancient. That was how he was known. But she now held memories of him as a child. This elf was now an elder of his people.
"Why did you do this Milo?" She asked calmly. Not knowing why she trusted this man, but her instints told her that he was one of the few she could trust wholely.
"I apologize, I had promised to give you a century in the mundane realm. However that is no longer possible. Your Father passed away three hours ago. You are his firstborn." He said as though that should explain everything.
Brieanna's mind was still cloudy, and some memories hadn't returned yet. When Milo next spoke, the fogginess of her mind disappeared, and several mellinia of training solidified in her mind but the memories all stopped forming.
"We must leave for The Lost Realm, Your Highness."
She knew it was true. She was now Queen Regeant.