Post by morgen on Aug 12, 2008 1:39:51 GMT -6
Morgen had arrived at his store around nine. About half an hour later then he usually opened the store, but there had been much work the previous night on the farm when he returned home and he had rested an extra half hour.
When he had passed through the city gates astride the family Jutland mare, Duchess, with his sister he had first dropped her off at the castle; where he did so every morning. Felicity, 17 and the eldest sister, works as a maid all day there and goes home with Morgen in the evenings. His next stop before the shop was the stables of the nearest Inn to leave Duchess. They did have a single stall in the back of the store designed to leave a mount, but the stall was undergoing construction at the moment. So Duchess was left at the Briar Rose. Then, from there, Morgen had walked to his shop.
He walked with his hands in the pockets of his black breeches and his eyes glued to the cobblestones that passed beneath his booted feet, walking with brisk strides down the road. It wasn't a far walk so it did not take him long to be at the door, slide the large black key from his pocket, and unlock the door.
Going about his daily morning business around the shop; dusting the shelves, tables, and books, checking that they were all in alphabetical order and catergorized appropriately to their specific genre and subject, sweeping the floor, and then lastly pushing back the drapes of the front windows, his sign of the shop being open.
So really he didn't open shop until 10 a.m when the streets were well crowded with consumers and sellers, children milling about between the moving masses, and fretted mothers chasing after them. He stood infront the window a moment, observing all the hustle and bustle outside his walls. He liked it here, inside. Away from all the chaos of the marketplace. Though some considered it an exciting, thrilling air; Morgen found it extremely irritable, loud, vexing, and quite a test on his temper. To say the least; the man liked his peace and quiet. Not just liked, but required and demanded it. If not, he was a rather unpleasant person to be situated with.
Withdrawing from the window he went into the backroom to start up his printing press.
He had heard the door open, then close, and foot steps following and growing louder as whom ever it was entered the vacinity of the shop. Morgen raised the press lever, hands wet with fresh black ink stains, turning around and grabbing an old handkerchief he left on the table.
Wiping his hands in the handkerchief he bumped the door open with his side and appeared behind the front desk, looking to see who it was that entered the shop.
It was Ewan MacLeod, a fellow Scotts man and scholar, but one who had about 15 years more on Morgen. It had been awhile since he saw him, but the only evidence Morgen may have realized this was the most slightest inclination of his dark brows upwards. Otherwise he pocket the stained handkerchief, clasped his hands behind his back by the wrist and looked upon the elder man cooly. "Lord MacLeod. A pleasure to see you. It has been awhile."
The elder, brown haired man had stationed himself already infront of one of the shelves with a volume in hand. Opening it while looking up at Morgen too he nodded and spoke beneath his bushy moustache. "Aye, aye it has. Been busy, though, wot with the Guild." He sniffed and flipped through the pages carefully, eyes scanning the printed words.
Morgen made a short nod. "I am sure. It seems more of our youth are taking an interest in an education."
Snapping the book shut and slipping it back to its place, his hand glided down that shelf then down to the next followed by his eyes till he grabbed another. Nodding all the while. "Aye, which is a fantastic thing. Though keeps us busy allright. Say...weren't ye in school?"It was then he raised his head to look at Morgen with squinty hazel eyes that seemed to be small because the excessive roundness of his cheeks.
A second nod. "Yes...I had been attending the University of Paris, in France. I came back...three years ago." He'd been here for awhile, and Ewan knew that. Which was why Morgen was a bit baffled by his sudden realization of his higher education.
"So ye know French do ye?"
Morgen wanted to smack himself. It took all in his power to not to do so, or even at least roll his eyes. Instead he kept his composition very straight so that he seemed he was unphased by his inquiry. He answered slowly. "Yes, I do. Fluently."
"Huh." Ewan started flipping through the pages of this new book, his mouth partially agape in a contemplative expression. Closing that one and returning it to its place he turned his attention fully to the Book Keeper now. "Why did ye nae go back?"
Honestly, Morgen was positive had this conversation before witht his man. He breathed carefully through his nose and straightened out his back. "I have to take care of my family." And that was all he would say. His intent stare offered the man no room for further inquiry.
Ewan stared at him a moment. Suddenly this conversation ringing a bell in his tiny ears. "Ah," He nodded widely, understandingly. "Well, as ye know I'm sure yerself; ye are a very educated young man. An' I know of someone that may need yer skills. Especially the languages part."
He would not be a merchant or a trader. He did not like business. That was what Morgen foreshadowed what Ewan was thinking of. He arched his left brow high without budging the other. "Oh?"
"Aye, aye. Yes. Actually," Ewan gave him a good size up, which Morgen stood as still as the dead under, though mentally a little affronted, "I think ye'd be quite perfect. An' it'd help ye with yer family quite a bit." He took a few steps across the room to close the space between Morgen and himself so he was standing just infront of the desk. "It's an Ambassador position in tha castle. Need someone tah travel to different countries, meet with noble folk, talk business, be a good representative fer our country, those sort o'things."
"I know what an Ambassador is."
"Right, well, aye, the castle needs one. If yer interested I can put in a word to tha Duchess, give her yer name."
As much as he detested the idea of this man, 'putting in a word to the Duchess for him,' he unwillingly nodded his head curtly, because that was indeed something he was terribly interested in. "I would be very grateful for that, Lord MacLeod."
The large man nodded, "Thought ye would be, aye, I know ye'd be quite good. Weal, I'd best be on me way now. Ye have a good day now."
"Likewise." Morgen watched Ewan from his desk turn and walk out the door, having swung it wide open so it slammed very audibly on its hinged. Which made Morgen grit his teeth slightly. Dark blues continued to follow him through the window as he moved down the street. He was a fairly intelligent man, but had more talent being a musician than anything else. He did wonder why he frequented to his shop so often.
He could not read a word of english.
If he got this position, he would be in deep gratitude to the peculiar Ewan MacLeod.
When he had passed through the city gates astride the family Jutland mare, Duchess, with his sister he had first dropped her off at the castle; where he did so every morning. Felicity, 17 and the eldest sister, works as a maid all day there and goes home with Morgen in the evenings. His next stop before the shop was the stables of the nearest Inn to leave Duchess. They did have a single stall in the back of the store designed to leave a mount, but the stall was undergoing construction at the moment. So Duchess was left at the Briar Rose. Then, from there, Morgen had walked to his shop.
He walked with his hands in the pockets of his black breeches and his eyes glued to the cobblestones that passed beneath his booted feet, walking with brisk strides down the road. It wasn't a far walk so it did not take him long to be at the door, slide the large black key from his pocket, and unlock the door.
Going about his daily morning business around the shop; dusting the shelves, tables, and books, checking that they were all in alphabetical order and catergorized appropriately to their specific genre and subject, sweeping the floor, and then lastly pushing back the drapes of the front windows, his sign of the shop being open.
So really he didn't open shop until 10 a.m when the streets were well crowded with consumers and sellers, children milling about between the moving masses, and fretted mothers chasing after them. He stood infront the window a moment, observing all the hustle and bustle outside his walls. He liked it here, inside. Away from all the chaos of the marketplace. Though some considered it an exciting, thrilling air; Morgen found it extremely irritable, loud, vexing, and quite a test on his temper. To say the least; the man liked his peace and quiet. Not just liked, but required and demanded it. If not, he was a rather unpleasant person to be situated with.
Withdrawing from the window he went into the backroom to start up his printing press.
He had heard the door open, then close, and foot steps following and growing louder as whom ever it was entered the vacinity of the shop. Morgen raised the press lever, hands wet with fresh black ink stains, turning around and grabbing an old handkerchief he left on the table.
Wiping his hands in the handkerchief he bumped the door open with his side and appeared behind the front desk, looking to see who it was that entered the shop.
It was Ewan MacLeod, a fellow Scotts man and scholar, but one who had about 15 years more on Morgen. It had been awhile since he saw him, but the only evidence Morgen may have realized this was the most slightest inclination of his dark brows upwards. Otherwise he pocket the stained handkerchief, clasped his hands behind his back by the wrist and looked upon the elder man cooly. "Lord MacLeod. A pleasure to see you. It has been awhile."
The elder, brown haired man had stationed himself already infront of one of the shelves with a volume in hand. Opening it while looking up at Morgen too he nodded and spoke beneath his bushy moustache. "Aye, aye it has. Been busy, though, wot with the Guild." He sniffed and flipped through the pages carefully, eyes scanning the printed words.
Morgen made a short nod. "I am sure. It seems more of our youth are taking an interest in an education."
Snapping the book shut and slipping it back to its place, his hand glided down that shelf then down to the next followed by his eyes till he grabbed another. Nodding all the while. "Aye, which is a fantastic thing. Though keeps us busy allright. Say...weren't ye in school?"It was then he raised his head to look at Morgen with squinty hazel eyes that seemed to be small because the excessive roundness of his cheeks.
A second nod. "Yes...I had been attending the University of Paris, in France. I came back...three years ago." He'd been here for awhile, and Ewan knew that. Which was why Morgen was a bit baffled by his sudden realization of his higher education.
"So ye know French do ye?"
Morgen wanted to smack himself. It took all in his power to not to do so, or even at least roll his eyes. Instead he kept his composition very straight so that he seemed he was unphased by his inquiry. He answered slowly. "Yes, I do. Fluently."
"Huh." Ewan started flipping through the pages of this new book, his mouth partially agape in a contemplative expression. Closing that one and returning it to its place he turned his attention fully to the Book Keeper now. "Why did ye nae go back?"
Honestly, Morgen was positive had this conversation before witht his man. He breathed carefully through his nose and straightened out his back. "I have to take care of my family." And that was all he would say. His intent stare offered the man no room for further inquiry.
Ewan stared at him a moment. Suddenly this conversation ringing a bell in his tiny ears. "Ah," He nodded widely, understandingly. "Well, as ye know I'm sure yerself; ye are a very educated young man. An' I know of someone that may need yer skills. Especially the languages part."
He would not be a merchant or a trader. He did not like business. That was what Morgen foreshadowed what Ewan was thinking of. He arched his left brow high without budging the other. "Oh?"
"Aye, aye. Yes. Actually," Ewan gave him a good size up, which Morgen stood as still as the dead under, though mentally a little affronted, "I think ye'd be quite perfect. An' it'd help ye with yer family quite a bit." He took a few steps across the room to close the space between Morgen and himself so he was standing just infront of the desk. "It's an Ambassador position in tha castle. Need someone tah travel to different countries, meet with noble folk, talk business, be a good representative fer our country, those sort o'things."
"I know what an Ambassador is."
"Right, well, aye, the castle needs one. If yer interested I can put in a word to tha Duchess, give her yer name."
As much as he detested the idea of this man, 'putting in a word to the Duchess for him,' he unwillingly nodded his head curtly, because that was indeed something he was terribly interested in. "I would be very grateful for that, Lord MacLeod."
The large man nodded, "Thought ye would be, aye, I know ye'd be quite good. Weal, I'd best be on me way now. Ye have a good day now."
"Likewise." Morgen watched Ewan from his desk turn and walk out the door, having swung it wide open so it slammed very audibly on its hinged. Which made Morgen grit his teeth slightly. Dark blues continued to follow him through the window as he moved down the street. He was a fairly intelligent man, but had more talent being a musician than anything else. He did wonder why he frequented to his shop so often.
He could not read a word of english.
If he got this position, he would be in deep gratitude to the peculiar Ewan MacLeod.