Chapter 2: Song’s Lucky Roll

Silence is few and far between in the city of Suomi. Not much rest could be had during the day, and certainly not during the night. Residents shut their doors, shut their blinds, shut their windows, and plugged their ears to regain any resemblance of a peaceful slumber.

Horses and carriages rode caravans and parties of joy and laughter down streets of many homes of Suomi. Adventurers in leathers and silver armors liven the street, laughing and praising their hunts and quests of today. They wandered the night with bags of coins, filling their bellies and searching for the next eatery until their armor couldn’t stretch any more.

Inns and tavern held bars and restaurants that lit the night. Patrons danced, clang their beers, cried their sorrows, sang their hearts, and spoke of the moment, for the sun may not shine tomorrow. 

When the sky glowed orange and all of the ale are gone, those drunk on the love of yesterday yawned their way home.

Weaponsmiths and armorsmiths banged their hammers to the chirping of the birds above. Item stores opened their doors with fresh-baked breads and a warm smile to a line of customers outside. And those working at inns and taverns, and bars and restaurants cleaned the rest of the night away.

Everyday is an important day, so they like to believe, but today was especially so, because today was the annual ceremony for Shinewood College. Like last year and the year before, the wide streets of Suomi were bustling with more activity than usual. More people. More chatters. And the sweet aroma of piping-hot street food.

Inside the walls of the noble district was a simple shop two stories high. Out front and up high hung a sign engraved with the words ‘Song’s Lucky Roll.’ Inside, lining all the walls of the store were glass square containers encapsulating items of different rarities on red pillows. Whitmore steel swords and armor were on the main display of the front windows, while leather and bronze armories littered the rest of the back. 

Racing back and forth between three stations was a gorgeous lone girl. Thick brown eyebrows, long golden hair, and peach skin and lips. A natural face of cynicism narrowed her big, blue eyes; glancing at her customers like they were about to commit a crime.

She ran to the front station, answering questions related to any items on display. She jumped to the right station, dealing with customer complaints and product returns. She dived to the left station, processing and recording transactions.

She paused, wiping sweat from her forehead.

Bells of the front door chimed as more customers squeezed their way in. 

The day had only just begun, and her silver turtleneck sweater was already clinging to her skin. Sweat beads dripped onto her slim black jacket. In between the lull of switching stations, she sneaked peeks at her watch. An hour until ten… It’s only going to get hotter. How badly she wished she wouldn’t have worn a pair of black tights today.

Minutes in between the chores and daily tasks of the right station, a sudden realization hit her. Wait… an hour until ten?! Crap! There’s no time to shower or to prep for the ceremony. I’ll have to check in, find my seat, grab a snack--

“--Hey miss. Miss!” an angry customer yelled. “Have you been listening to what I’ve been saying?”

The girl shook her head and slapped her cheeks to clear her mind. “Sorry, could you repeat that?”

“Could I repeat that…?” the angry customer mocked. “I just told you why this item your store sold me was defective.” He took a squiggly ashwood stick out of a paper bag and slammed it onto the reception desk. “It doesn’t work! It’s broken! And don’t ask me how it got broken. I just told you how, if only you would’ve used those ears of yours!”

“Hey!” an impatient customer shouted from the station on the left. “I’ve been ready to check out!”

“Same, same!” another customer shouted. “We’re in a rush! Big day today! Would you hurry, please?”

“Please wait. I’ll be right there!” Inspecting the item that the angry customer slapped onto the counter left her perplexed. The marble orb embedded into the wood was crack-free; the wand itself had no dents or worrying deformations. Functionally, it should’ve been fine. Everything should’ve been fine. “Uhm… it should work, sir. I don’t think the stick is the problem, sir.”

“What are you saying?” The man squinted.

“I mean… I could demonstrate that it works right now--”

“No no no. It’s broken! How many bloody times do I have to repeat this?”

“But it’s not---”

“YES IT IS!” the angry customer exclaimed. “Look! I want a refund! RE-FUND! Do you understand words, you simpleton?”

“We don’t… do that, sir.”

“WHAT!” the angry customer exclaimed once more, but somehow in a louder magnitude than before. He leaned in and whispered, “You will give me my money back, or this small store of yours will be forced to close by the end of today.”

“Sorry…” Under her professional mask, she mustered her best smile but it was nowhere near perfection. “We don’t... do that either, sir.”

“Oh, yes you do!” the angry customer quickly countered. “YES YOU DO!”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Bells of the front door chimed. Under the distinct muttering of the crowds, an elderly woman sucked in a belly full of air. With the raspiness of age and lungs of thunder, she shouted, “What are you still doing here, Arwyn?! The time! The time!”

Arwyn, the sole worker of the store, jumped off her feet and turned towards the direction of that familiar voice. “Grandma--”

“Get out of here!” her grandmother shouted. “Your sister is on her way here, so get going!”

Glancing back at her watch ten minutes had already passed. Hearing her sister on her way to handle the rest was a huge relief, and a terrible misfortune. Daring to not waste a second further she squeezed her way through the crowd, helplessly bumping shoulders and apologizing her way through. She quickly hugged her grandmother by the door before sprinting away from all the customers.

When the girl was gone, her grandma walked through the make-shift path that her granddaughter made, and stood behind the front station.

“So, are you taking our orders today?” the customer on the left station asked.

“Hey! Are there any better artifacts here?” another customer asked.

“I want a REFUND--”

“GET OUT!” Arwyn’s grandmother roared. “Everyone, get out of my store. RIGHT. NOW!”

Speechless. All of them shockingly stared at the elderly woman. To be treated in such a way, especially by the store owner, had them turning their heads straight towards the door. Almost immediately, her customers slung words, dissatisfied and nasty, while barging out of the store. Eventually, with the last one gone she could finally let out an exhausted sigh.

“Seriously…” The elderly woman walked to the front door and swapped the signs with a closed one. “I told that thick head of hers we wouldn’t be opening today.”

Afterwards, she headed to the back of the store which led to the bathroom, storage room, and an office room.

Within the office room the elderly woman picked up a ledger. She frowned. For the past several months it showed a continuous decline in sales. Getting customers in wasn’t a problem, but making the sales were. Products here weren’t like they used to be, she admitted. Most items and artifacts in their inventory were of common rarity; the few that were rare weren’t considered such to the taste of the high-classes around here.

“I’m too old for this.”

She sat down, picked up her favorite pipe of cigar, and lit it with one of the many scattered matches on her desk. A puff of smoke flew towards a rectangular mirror as she reached for her lovely family picture. Times were simpler back then. Back when those two little rugrats of hers would always smile at nothing.

“Arwyn and Chloe… always there to smile for the world.”

She laughed at such a ridiculous thought. Another puff flew out as she sunk into acceptance of the bleak future for her store. Just like the reflection of her wrinkly and saggy skin, perhaps the store wasn’t meant to last for generations. Perhaps both her and the store are too old for the community’s taste. Perhaps--

What in the... 

She stared at the mirror, watching its glass rippled like the surface of water. Leaning closer from her chair, the reflection blurred and began to fade into opaqueness.

The hell is this?

Something black emerged from within the mirror. Her pipe fell out of her mouth. She jumped onto her chair, clutching her chest.

A black cane reached out, probing the ground until it found a stable foothold. Then a foot emerged, followed by a embellished fabric only seen on royalty. A briefcase came after, then the face of a young man with white and gray hair.

Never in her wildest dreams would she imagined such an ordinary mirror--judged by her own eyes--to be something of magic. Years of experience--of accruing details to discern trashy items from ancient relics--told her that this was another ordinary mirror she bought on a discount. Or, at the very least, it should’ve been…

Sigrios scanned the room, vigilant and wary of dangers. When his eyes fell onto the elderly woman, it lit with the gratitude of a hundred suns. A soft air of relief escaped his mouth, incredibly thankful that it was just an old woman. “Hello. Would you kindly tell me where I am?”

She stared at him, mouth agape. It opened and closed until she could finally find her words. “This is Suomi… I’m sorry, you are?”

“Sigrios.” He walked around the room, mindful of the sparse trash around him. It was an office room, not far too different from the ones he remembered. Except it was unusually cramped and littered with papers. About a fourth of it was solely occupied by a large oak desk, mostly free of space. Several large cabinets with glass panels contained conic wizardry hats, robes, and lots of squiggly sticks. And at the very top of the room was something he hadn’t seen in a long time: a clock, and it pointed to ten. “Suomi, is it? And your name?”

“Song.” She couldn’t help her lips from muttering. The air around him was completely different than the nobles she interacted with on a daily basis. It commanded respect and obedience, but not of a pretentious walk. Those slightly bruised eyes of his, the way they wander and stare weren’t the slightest bit demeaning. They were of equal, yet years of appraising items and judging characters nudged at a different story. So many questions rambled in her mind, urging to blurt out, but she suppressed the desire to do so. “Uh… Where did you come from?”

Sigrios turned to the mirror, then back to Song. He tilted his head towards it, as if the answer was obvious.

“Right…” Song rolled her eyes.

“He said to be there at ten…” Sigrios placed his briefcase on the desk and opened it. Underneath rich clothes and several stacks of documents was a wrinkled and stained photograph of a building. “I need a favor. Would you advise me on how to get here?”

Song’s eyes glittered at the glimpse of his belongings. She hid it well from him by facing the floor and tapping her chin. Those clothes of his were concerningly wealthy. But not only that, this young man was seeking directions to that prestigious college. All the hints pointed to a family of power, but his name wasn’t a familiar one. At the very least, not a name the world knows. She gazed at him once more, and her gut was screaming: this was someone she needed to befriend.

In a speed seemingly defying her age, she pulled open the top drawer of the office desk and procured a map of the city of Suomi. With a quill and black ink, she marked the map according to his wish. It was a simple route with not many turns, and now it rested in his hands. “Sorry it took so long. But here, that’s the place you’re looking for.”

“Thank you.” Sigrios returned the photo to his briefcase and pocketed the map. “I apologize for intruding. I’ll be on my way.”

“Oh, not at all.” As Song watched him struggle with his motions out of the door, there was a lingering feeling of uncertainty. First impressions are important, and especially so for connections with influencers and those in power. But all she did was a simple task. Was that enough?

The bells on the front door chimed a for his leave.

It chimed again, followed by a familiar voice. “Grandma! We’ll be late for Arwyn’s entrance trial if we don’t hurry!”

“Ok! I’m coming!” Song slapped her cheeks and ran her hands down her face. Today was not a day for business. Today was a day for celebration. The future and happiness of her granddaughters were waiting. “I’m coming!”