Quill

Chapter 1: Is Reborn

1922. Summertime in Europe, Rlyll. Small businesses are booming, and prospering like never before.

"For the last time, Chester! The hurricane glasses, not the wine glasses. You're pushing me over the limit here!" Norman roared across the shoppe.

"Yes, Mr. Stonelock!" The youngest employee replied, dashing from one corner of the store to the next, as he tripped over his own foot. No wonder he was a cashier almost everyday.

Norman's Crystal Chest was booming. The glassware shoppe made the small town of Rlyll known all over Europe. A small crew of three workers assisted Norman in the shoppe, but it's exactly the amount he needed.

"The invoice for Mrs. Poreine is ready," a voice yelled from the counter.

"Thank you, Warren," Norman replied, checking the completed sets of drinkware. They were ready for packaging. Tensions were high, but Warren was cool as a cucumber.

"Mr. Stonelock? Where do you want this se-"

"Chester, don't run with the set! Hand me that before you hurt yourself," Rick snapped, snatching the box full of vases. Chester smoothed his honey-colored bob back in frustration.

"Thank you Rick. Okay, we're on double time, guys. Let's get these packaged!" Norman pushed wet silver strands off of his forehead. His glacier-filled eyes scanned the order forms.

He turned his head. "Ric-"

"Order seven is right here," Rick stood behind Norman, examining the order's drinkware.

His dark, chestnut hair sparkled in the sunbeams passing through the faded windows. Sweat dampened it from a hard, hot day's work. It was evident why Rick was the head glassblower.

Warren's head tossed to his right, looking out the window. He noticed a visible conversation outside by the town's central, brass swan fountain. The frizzy, flaxen-haired secondary glassblower squinted his olive eyes. His lips pursed by association as his pupils sped from left to right, mouth mimicking the same words.

Warren shot a glance in Norman's direction.

"Mr. Stonelock, you have a guest with the same story as every other day," Warren notified his boss.

Norman stared daggers at the ceiling in response, radiating with complete irritation.

"This is harassment, plain and simple," Chester said, picking up the phone.

"Put the phone down, Chester," Norman responded.

"Any other day, I'd agree with you, Mr. Stonelock. But Sir Monfold has been torturing this shoppe with bribes for an entire month. He could hold back our rush orders," Rick chimed in.

Warren continued to read the conversation outside as the shoppe fell into silence. Norman's sigh broke it.

"Get him on the phone, Chester."

Norman continued to examine the finished orders of drinkware and glassware.

"Impeccable timing," Warren uttered.

Sir Ivan Monfold burst through the doors as if they were punching bags. There was still a crack in the glass window on the left door that he imprinted weeks ago.

"Good afternoon, gents," Sir Ivan spat the false compliments as if they'd stained his teeth.

"Good afternoon, Sir Monfold. Why not actually purchase some glassware today? We even have an ongoing sale," Rick forced through the best, although pained smile he could muster.