A Tentative Trip to the Toyshop

A Tentative Trip to the Toyshop

Postby Cherny » Wed Mar 26, 2014 5:38 am

The letter arrived quietly, weeks ago, delivered to the loft above the Broken Dagger's stables while Cherny and Son were elsewhere. He'd broken the seal once he'd assured himself that that first loop of ink was most likely a "C", and that drooping tail at the other end probably belonging to an ambiguous "y", but of the haphazard scrawl within he had been able to make very little sense at all, despite hours spent poring over the scratches and blots of a carelessly-wielded nib.

The late winter had been difficult, and filled with trials: the day-to-day toil of tending to his knight's mount, and later to the more truculent steed of the lady Egris; sword practice at dawn under the same lady's tutelage; time dutifully spent at Sir Elliot's disposal, offering quiet advice and companionship as the knight continued his recovery; visits with Zinniah at the Rememdium, each of them seeking distraction in the other's company. And then there had been the wolves; hungry fangs savaging his face and arms, requiring stitches and bandages and healing salves; just as he was recovering from that, the second attack which had seen Noura mauled and Gloria maimed. More time spent at the seamstress' bedside while still attending to his other commitments. The mysterious letter, for a time, forgotten.

It's only now, perhaps months after its delivery, that he stumbles across it again, pressed between the pages of a book he had been reading then and to which he has just recently returned; he frowns at it, holds it up to the candlelight, trying to divine meaning from the sloppy loops and smudges that, perhaps, form a message. Eventually, after much studious examination, he manages to discern a word here, another there - urgent, perhaps; visit, if one squints and tilts the page thusly - just enough to scry a vague invitation, devoid of particulars. Until he takes another look at the signature, splashed incontinently across the foot of the page, and realises the identity of the sender.

* * *

He couldn't tell whether it was an invitation or a summons, and has thus erred on the side of propriety; a fresh shirt, clothes and coat freshly brushed, sturdy boots polished, iron hat blacked and buffed. Tidy, almost official seeming, his posture stuff and proper. He dares a sidelong glance for the corpulent carven effigy beside the front door, and draws a deep breath to steady his nerves. Then another.

Thus fortified, he steps forward and pushes open the door to the toyshop, letter of (presumed) invitation clutched in his hand.
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Re: A Tentative Trip to the Toyshop

Postby Treadwell » Wed Mar 26, 2014 7:41 am

The toyshop is, of course, open for business, its owner busily bobbling about with his cane in one hand and a feather duster in the other. Treadwell pauses in his cleaning, turning his purple-robed bulk toward the door, to squint at the newcomer through glasses heavy and fallen to the tip of his nose.

"Oh! Hullo! What, hm hm, can I do for you today, eh?"

Duster gets fluffily flumped onto a table; hand formerly holding it comes to rest atop that great globe of gut.

A blink, a nod of jowly face and floofy beard.

"What have you there, hmph? A note?"
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
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Re: A Tentative Trip to the Toyshop

Postby Cherny » Wed Mar 26, 2014 8:17 am

For most children - younger, perhaps, those who have not yet been called upon to work as apprentices, scullions or extra hands about the family farm - the toyshop would be a wonderland. Indeed, there's a moment in which the boy is briefly distracted, dark eyes drawn curiously to the shelves; he's not sure what he had really expected, but now that he is here his gaze roves over charming playthings wrought in carved wood or enamelled tin, dolls stitched from bright rags and clever little automata ready to dance and caper at the turn of a handle. It is a fleeting thing, though, for the shop's proprietor quickly draws his attention, a great mound of soft flesh and white hairs.

The boy recalls his manners readily enough, ducking into a quick bow, his features kept politely neutral, his raw voice level, if quiet.

"I've a l-letter, ser. I - I c-can't read all of it, b-but it s-said to see you?"

He dares a few paces closer, near enough to offer the folded paper at arm's length for the toymaker's inspection.
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Re: A Tentative Trip to the Toyshop

Postby Treadwell » Wed Mar 26, 2014 8:28 am

Treadwell nods and reaches out to take the note, written in a quite familiar and quite messy hand. A quick read of the note brings wide-eyed remembrance to the old tub, who promptly thumps his cane on the floor and lets roll a few breathless, porky grunts as he turns.

"Money, dear boy, money and land and a house, mmph mmph, all in your name, oddly enough! You've a most, hmph, grateful benefactor, you know."

Around the main countertop he wobbles, passing the great, leather belt hanging on the wall with its multitude of pouches and tools hanging from its front: his belt of toymaking equipment, it seems, enormous and wide. Treadwell soon huffily stops, bending over to fetch from a box near his knees a decently sized gold bar, another page of a document, and what appears to be a hand-drawn map.

"Zilliah purchased it all, mmph mmph," he pipes with an exhausted wheeeeee attempting to recover breath lost in his bending over. A fat pointer tap-thumps at a small box drawn on the map. "The house. Land around it." A gasp for air again, and "In the woods out by the lake, I think."
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
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Re: A Tentative Trip to the Toyshop

Postby Cherny » Wed Mar 26, 2014 8:50 am

The squire is still, for the most part - save what might be required to discreetly remove himself from the toymaker's path, or to avoid the old man's gut as he turns and maneuvers around the shop. At first his features betray a vague puzzlement as Treadwell explains - money and land and a house - wondering if perhaps there is some confusion, perhaps he'd meant to write to some other correspondent more likely to be bequeathed such things. His brows rise sharply at the sight of that gold bar, however, and confusion shifts to something more like worry, lest he be in trouble if he accepts this clearly-mistaken gift.

And then the benefactor is named, and his gaze holds nothing but wariness, thoughts racing as he tries to understand, wonders what reasons there might be behind this whole charade. He is tempted, certainly - the ingot seems real enough, and lends weight to the claim of there being a property to go with it - but has read enough tales of fairy gifts to be suspicious. So he is cautious as he takes a step or two nearer, craning to squint at the map, and the gleaming bar beside it.

"D-did he say why, ser?"
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Re: A Tentative Trip to the Toyshop

Postby Treadwell » Wed Mar 26, 2014 9:01 am

"He wanted you looked after, mmph mmph, you and Zinniah and, oooh, one or two others, I think, mmph."

The gold bar is eased back into the box from whence it came. "That was for payment, mmph, and the rest to be given to you for your expenses."

Treadwell sinks back onto a great, round, cushioned stool behind the counter, setting down his cane and resting his hands on his stomach.

"I've yet to have time to trade it into smaller coins, mmph. The money's not in my toyshop, you see, but in my council office." A wag of a fat finger again, this time at the loose page that's not the map. "The deed to the land, to be kept in my possession, mmph mmph, and filed with the others for the town. I'll file all that as I need to, and I'll bring you the leftover money."

Another deflated heeeeee of breath and a wriggle of his flushed shnozz, red and round among the white fluff of facial hair.

"Take a look at the map, there, and tell me if you can tell from it where the house is?"
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
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Re: A Tentative Trip to the Toyshop

Postby Cherny » Wed Mar 26, 2014 10:05 am

At first that explanation serves only to rouse his suspicions further, having learned more than he'd have preferred about the fae's capricious nature; but at mention of Zilliah's daughter things begin to make more sense, and the squire begins to know something like excitement, or at least careful hope.

The ingot is removed from sight, exchanged for the promise of coins later on, and though his inclination is to be sceptical he nods in acceptance. The deed is of little use to him, a moment squinting at the close-scribed letters doing little to enlighten him as to the document's meaning - save that it confers ownership. The map - at the toymaker's invitation - he draws closer to him, turning it so that he might orient himself with the outlines of buildings, of roads and streams and lakeshore. Eventually he nods slightly, looking up to meet the old man's rheumy gaze.

"I th-think so, ser." A moment's hesitation, wondering how bold he dares to be. "And it's a, a g-gift? He d-doesn't want anything f-for it?"
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Re: A Tentative Trip to the Toyshop

Postby Treadwell » Wed Mar 26, 2014 10:18 am

"A gift, yes, mmph mmph. He was in much haste about delivering it all, mmph, and I've not seen him since." A blink-blink of wet eyes sees him removing his glasses to rub fleshy fists into them. "I know where the place is; take the map if you like, hmph; just don't lose it! I'll find you the rest of the money soon enough, and we can leave it safely in lock and box, mmph, at your new house."

A moment or two to pause and huff quietly for air.

"Is there anything else you need to know, lad?"
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
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Re: A Tentative Trip to the Toyshop

Postby Cherny » Wed Mar 26, 2014 10:34 am

Still dubious. Still uncertain, for all that he nods and carefully begins to fold the map. "And it's mine, f-for me to, to do w-what I like with? As long as I l-look after Z-zinniah? He can't t-take it back or, or say I've t-to pay for it?" Desperately trying to work out the catch, the downside, the tricky hook that must surely come as part of so generous a gift. Unable to trust that it might be freely given, without conditions attached.

"Is th-there anything else I'm m-meant to do, ser? Or n-not do?" Rules. Strange and arbitrary fairy rules meant to snare him, to fool him into the fae's debt. Was that it?
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Re: A Tentative Trip to the Toyshop

Postby Treadwell » Wed Mar 26, 2014 10:47 am

"Not as far as I know. He didn't mention anything else."

Treadwell streeeeetches those pudgy arms, which leaves him jiggling-quivering and snorting for air, a porcine grunting and laboring.

"I don't fancy his doing anything or complaining, mmph mmph. As far as I'm concerned, this is fairly close to complete, merely finished with your taking this key," a bend at the waist that forces out another lungful of breath, a clank of key from knee-side box to desk, "to go in!" An exhausted squeak, shrill and pursy.

With that, up goes a purple sleeve to mop at growing sweat on his jowls and face.
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
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Re: A Tentative Trip to the Toyshop

Postby Cherny » Wed Mar 26, 2014 10:58 am

It's hard to believe. Hard to trust, and hard to trust Zilliah's intentions in particular. Still, perhaps - with adequate precautions - it might be possible to make it work. To make the best of it. He eyes the key for a moment, thoughtful, as he tucks the map into his coat. Then a pause as he rummages in a different pocket, and reaches to take the key from the desk.

"Thank you, s-ser. If you'd g-give that to Ser Z-zilliah, I'd be glad."

A nod to the desktop, where he has exchanged the key for a silver sixpence. Not a gift, then, but a trade. Perhaps it'd work, perhaps it'd free him from whatever debt or obligation or geas might otherwise trap him if he accepted the house as a gift. A pace back, then, the key clutched in thin fingers, and he offers another bow to the corpulent toymaker.

"A g-good day to you, ser." Fastidiously polite, pausing just a moment longer in case there's anything else the man wishes to say.
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Re: A Tentative Trip to the Toyshop

Postby Treadwell » Wed Mar 26, 2014 11:19 am

"Good day, dear boy. . . and pray don't lose that key, hmm hmm? Get yourself a strap, mmph, and keep it 'round your neck or wrist, perhaps."

With that said, Tready flicks the coin from the countertop to the box all this has been coming from; it rattles as it lands.

"Now, do be safe. I'm closing up the store for the rest of the day, mmph--too tired to stay up right now, you see! Should you ever reach my age," he wheeeees again for breath as he flumps back onto flat feet, wincing as his monumental weight comes down hard on his ages old injured leg, "you'll come to appreciate, mmph mmph, the value of a good nap!"

A short cane-aided waddle to the door will follow, a silent ushering out by doing so that leads to Aloisius extinguishing lights, fireplace, and, finally, his own wakeful self as he will take to snoring very soundly in his bedroom in the back of the shop building.
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
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