(SHORT STORY) 🌘The Ringing Harbinger

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(Edited)

Salutes all around. 🖖

Another one. 😈 I should really come up with a name for this world.

🌘 In the same world 🌘
Initiation | A Glint Amongst The Rubble

I promise this one is nowhere near as dark as the last one. 😅 It's still not happy-go-lucky, I don't do that ya see, nyah. 🔫

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The bell rang and another satisfied customer left.

Brast stood behind his counter, proud hands on wide hips. He was grinning like a fool on too much Swirl and he knew it. The last order just sold out. The customers were satisfied. And today he would order his next shipment.

Life was good.

The bell rang to admit a portly man in a fancy suit. He carried himself with a noble’s demeanor but looked comfortable all the same. The store did not threaten to dirty his clothes; the dust did not bristle his nose. He seemed as relaxed as if he were home.

“My good fellow.” He inclined his head ever so slightly.

“Welcome to the Mortar and Pestle!” Brast exclaimed magnanimous, impressive. “I am honored to have your patronage, my lord.”

“None of that, thank you.” He swiped at the air as if the honorifics was a pestering fly. “Sermon. Just Sermon.” He slowly turned, admiring the almost empty shelves. “I once owned an establishment just like this one, you see. I remember despising having to grovel, like some spineless boot-licker.” He stared at Brast pointedly. “I will not have it now that the cork is replaced, mm?”

Brast gave Sermon a sincere bow. “No m’lording. Loud and clear. How can I assist you? I’m afraid we just ran out of our last -”

The gentleman stopped him with an upraised hand. “You’ve got only a couple shabby alembics left. Mm?” He said with a smile, his eyes twinkling. “Oh, and that box of old retorts you’ve been trying to sell all year.”

Brats’s smile fell with his spirits. The good times had to end eventually. He exhaled the last of his joyous energy and clasped both hands. “I pay my taxes, my lord. I’ve crossed no one. Please. I don’t want any trouble.”

Sermon, to his credit, puffed up like a peacock. “My good fellow. Whatever for -“

“I’m sorry, my lord.” The words poured out of him. “But my brother’s home burned down last spring because he could not meet… certain demands.” Brast gave a stiff bow. “I’ve done everything asked of me. Straight and by the book. Please, my lord, I am not interested in whatever you are offering.”

The lord absorbed the information with an air of indifference that made Brast’s heart sink. Then, he took a step back, put both hands in the air, his expression filled with hurt. “I assure you. By the light of our King. I mean you no harm.”

Brast relaxed only slightly. A man swearing by the Oath couldn’t cause him direct harm. But he had heard of nobles who used it as a shield to mask their intent. A taboo and openly frowned upon – but not against any law or doctrine.

“How can I be of service?” Brast’s tone rang hollow. “My lord?”

“Sermon,” he placated with a hand to his chest.

“Sermon.”

The gentleman took out a piece of parchment. A nicely decorated piece of parchment - wrapped with silken string. He placed it on the counter, then retrieved his hands as if it was coated with deadly poison. “Proof of my honest intentions. As well as a little something for your loyal and lawful service to the crown.

“All I ask is that you consider the name in that parchment. Buy your next shipment from them, and you will do the crown a great service. One that our majesty is sure to never forget.”

Brast did not move.

Sermon, if that was even his name, sighed dramatically as he revealed a jingling brown bag. He placed it on top, smiling at Brast like a viper. “Take it from me, I was once where you are now. It’s always smart – always – to form new relationships. Sure, some… bridges might be burned. But, bigger! You will build bigger ones in their place.”

“Thank you… Sermon.” Brast made no move towards his countertop. “Can… can I consider my options?”

Sermon made a gesture as if he was thinking the same thing. “Of course. But do not dally. Today is the last day for shipments for this quarter.” He smiled. “I’m sure you already knew that, however.”

When Brast said nothing the nobleman took his leave. Courteous to the end, the ringing sent him off as it did everyone else.

Brast stood without moving for a long time. Pondering his options in fruitless effort. He knew that there was no choice to be made. If he wanted to still have a business, he had to bend the knee and conform.

The bell sang and Brast quickly took the bag and parchment. He tried to put on his shopkeeper’s face but failed.

His next customer was a skinny man in unobtrusive clothing. He moved with care, his eyes taking stock of everything. His hands were in his pockets however, and his gait was casual. Brast couldn’t put his finger on it, but he knew this man was tense. Like a spring ready to launch.

“Shopkeep.” He said in a ragged voice, leaning against the counter. “I hear you sell alchemical equipment here.”

Years as a salesman had taught Brast how to read people. Usually, he knew when someone was desperate or just haggling because of greed. His last customer wore a compelling mask. But Brast could still feel the brashness underneath.

He felt no malice from his current patron, but that didn’t settle his churning stomach. For this man was an enigma and hid his emotions like a dog hides his bone: diligent and with little care.

Brast managed a subdued. “Welcome to the Mortar and Pestle.” Deep inhale. “I am honored to have your patronage.”

“Aha. King’s got you by the balls, does her?” The man said, nonchalant. “Relax, man. I mean you no harm.”

Brast couldn’t help but chuckle. “That was what my last patron said.” He wiped the already clean countertop. “Seeing as how you know about my predicament; I suspect you are here to save me from the gauntleted fist of our Savior?”

“That I am.” He casually proffered his hand. “Minik. Pleasure.”

Hesitant, Brast took it. “Brast.”

“Before I brandish the shiv, I wanted to ask if you had any molded vials? I got a new apprentice, and he needs some help.”

Brast welcomed the request. He went to the back and returned with three vials. “My last three. Molded by the Sept themselves.”

Minik inspected the vials approvingly. “These will do.” He pulled a coin from thin air. “Keep the change, Brast. Van will definitely be happy with these.”

Brast took the coin, bit it, nodded. His stomach still churned though. “And… my predicament?”

“Ah.” Minik extracted a torn piece of parchment. “Not much to be done there, I'm afraid.” Brast took it from his outstretched hand. “Eventually, Brast. We must all make a choice.”

The paper was a shipment manifesto. Brast suspected the supplier was not the same as Sermon’s.

“Were you once a shopkeeper as well?”

“No.” Minik said curtly. “But I’ve seen my share. And it always comes down to this.”

“How can the King allow this?” Brast asked desperately. He wanted to weep.

“I suspect he thinks it’s good to have some competition.” He shrugged. “I’ve been asking the same question for years now. I don’t know how he allows it, but you have the power to choose your supplier.”

“And what a choice it is…” Brast said in his most disgusted, derogatory voice.

The man shrugged again and clapped Brast on the shoulder. “No hard feelings. You do good work. I’m sorry it had to come to this.”

And that was it. The next moment he was gone. Sent away by the bell - like so many others.

Brast held a parchment in each hand. Dumbstruck. He sat thinking for a long while. Then for a while still. The bell didn’t ring for the rest of the day.

Brast suspected it never would.

The King desires competition. He mused. I wonder what he does to the losers.

Brast had no delusions about his position. He understood he wasn’t even a player.

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If you've made it this far thanks for reading! 😗 I'd appreciate any and all feedback - we're all trying to become better writers here. 💯

👊 Follow me on my HIVE blog | Twitter 👊

Cover image sourced from here.

Have a good week folks. 😙



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19 comments
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Excellently written! Your story/scenario reminded me of Scott Lynch's Gentlemen Bastard series "The Lies of Locke Lamora". Have you heard of it before? I feel you will enjoy it very much.

Thanks for sharing btw!

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Yeah, I've read gentleman bastards, and while I liked it I did not love it. 🤷‍♂

I remember Lynch's writing style just didn't click with me, his exposition was really dry somehow. The story felt disjointed between character/action/exposition scenes. It was like he had a writing style for each. I dunno I might be spewing nonsense. 😁 But for me it was so-so. Far from bad, but I'm not thinking about those books when talking with other people.

Thanks for reading my story dawwwgg. 👊

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Yes you're quite right about the Lynch's writing style. It didn't have that artistic poetic flair for me either...but you gotta say the narrative did flow. I don't know if the book inspired the Oceans 11 movie series, but hell it was very cleverly written. Lynch's first book really sets the bar for me in that genre, but the books afterwards went down hill.

Now...have you heard of Patrick Rothfuss's Kingkiller Chronicles? First book is THE NAME ON THE WIND and second THE WISE MAN'S FEAR? These are EXCELLENT books. Rothfuss and Lynch made reputation at the same time, and the two main characters (Kvothe and Locke) have been compared by a lot of people, and their similarities are striking.

The wise mans fear is my all time fav book...and it was the first book out of the series that i read....only to later find out i read the whole series backwards LOL

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Yes, I love Rothfuss's writing. I just finished rereading NOTW yesterday (for the I don't know how many time). i have to say I like the first book more than the second though. 😁 I love both mind you.

What I love about those book is how they are plotted (which is to say, they aren't 😂). It truly feels like you are sitting by a camp fire listening to a grand epic for a seasoned storyteller. It ebb and flows in so many ways that you have no idea where the story is going.

Since it doesn't follow a typical 3-act structure, some people find the books disjointed. I really like them for that reason though.

And Kvothe is the jam, he gets a much better characterization than Locke (Locke is legit good, but Kvothe is just that much better imo).

Peace. 🍻

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Wonderful!

You have good tastes! Rothfuss's work really resonates with me. Kvothe is a Edema Ruh, an outcast of society and artist, also very adept at Sympathy. If i may say, Kvothe inspired me a lot to pursue the nomadic life, which i have been in the past decade. The fuel the path of the arts (i'm a magician) alongside nomadic travels, to accumulate stories to tell and live life without holds barred.

Rothfuss's writing style is really unique, really well done. I'm gonna have to get back into the two books...just wished the final book would hurry up man lol.

What's your take on Frank Herbert's Dune books?

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That's great to hear man. Yeah Kvothe has been an inspiration for me as well, just the drive and passion to do whatever it takes to make it. Great character.

As for the Dune books, am currently reading the third entry. I am also writing a Dune review actually (for Hive Book Club). I suspect it will come out tomorrow(?). But I love those books no cap. That world in general is just on another level. I wish Herbert finished the series however... but such is life.

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Dang a melange lover lol!

I recently finished the first three books, just to revisit the series, and i have to say...Paul is my favourite character in the series. When i used to read Dune, after every reading session, i felt like i had gained some Bene Gesserit witch power, i felt i was able to see things at a deeper level...even went so far as to search for real life Prana Bindu techniques...only to find out that i was gettin a little bit obsessed over the whole story of Dune and it's characters.

Have you ever heard of Jorge Borges? Argentinan writer, considered a great pioneer of modern short story fiction. Here's a story for you man:

The Rose of Paracelsus

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Same on Paul. And yeah i sued to feel superhuman after each Dune session. 😂 Herbert was so wise man....

Thanks for the short story! And no, I haven't heard of Borges but I look forward to reading what you linked. 😁

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Your story is very well-told and readable, @grocko. That's great that you are "world building" and are creating multiple stories that take place within it.

We feel for Brast, who faces a major dilemma, with likely consequences no matter what he may choose. But we also wish you gave us the answer in the end as to how he chooses to manage the dilemma. (You will find that The Ink Well admins will wag our fingers when writers leave stories open-ended!)

Still, it was a joy to read. Your mastery of character development and dialog is wonderful.

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Thanks for the kinds words.

But we also wish you gave us the answer in the end as to how he chooses to manage the dilemma. (You will find that The Ink Well admins will wag our fingers when writers leave stories open-ended!)

Funny thing about that: I had the conclusion mapped out, but it would've taken another 500 words to do it justice. I felt the story's current end point would suffice.

Don't fret, since I have it mapped out, you will see Brast's outcome in a future story. 😁

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I promise this one is nowhere near as dark as the last one. 😅 It's still not happy-go-lucky, I don't do that ya see, nyah. 🔫

Ha ha. We like dark, non-happy-go-lucky tales!

I really enjoyed reading this story. Not only is it an interesting storyline, but the characters are so lively, and their repartee really brings them to life. Also, you show a great mastery of the use of dialog, which I may actually want to use as an example in an article I plan to write about this important writing skill.

Sermon made a gesture as if he was thinking the same thing. “Of course. But do not dally. Today is the last day for shipments for this quarter.” He smiled. “I’m sure you already knew that, however.”

By using gestures to bring our attention to a particular character, you don't have to use the "he said" crutch, and the dialog flows unimpeded within the narrative. Well done!

One little typo jumped out at me as I was reading:

Years as a salesman had thought Brast how to read people.

Thanks for sharing your work in The Ink Well, and for supporting your fellow writers in the community!

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Thanksss. 😁

I've always felt comfortable with dialogue, so hearing someone confirm my instincts is a real treat. 🙂

And thanks for the typo heads-up! Appreciate it.

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I truly enjoyed this, the use of imagery made it 10X better🤗.

I wonder what "choice" Brast made. Now I'm hoping there's a continuation.

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Hey, thanks for stopping by and reading my story. 👊

I wonder what "choice" Brast made. Now I'm hoping there's a continuation.

Stick around and you might just find out. 😁

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(Edited)

Ah! Another wonderful piece from you. I think I will be sticking around no matter the breeze🙃.

“Welcome to the Mortar and Pestle!” Brast exclaimed magnanimous, impressive. “I am honored to have your patronage, my lord.”

You got me hooked from there. First I thought the story will a contemporary one but you made it interesting with your vibrant characters, language, narrative and descriptive techniques. Well done!

Towards the end I wanted to know if Brast was able to settle his issues. Will there be another part? 🙈 I enjoyed reading your story and I love your style of dialogue. Learn more from you. 🙌.

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Thank you so much for those kind words. 😘

You will inf act learn of Brast's fate in a future story. I had the ending ready, but didn't want to bog down the word count. I had to finish the story where i did, which sucks cuz I wanted to share the ending. 😅

But, the world is still young, and there will be plenty of opportunities to see Brast again. 😁

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Perfect, I am trying to learn the art of conversation and you are near perfect in that art. Beautiful.

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Thanks man, appreciate it. 👊

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