Mordecai Letto
The little pawn shop tucked away between two abandoned buildings looked like it hadn’t been cleaned since it had opened. The faded sign above the door hung askew and pointed away from the shop as if to warn passersby against entering.
Mordecai knew better. He entered the shop and knew exactly how far to push the door open before it would slam into a mountain of trinkets. The owner was neither a neat or pleasant man, greedy and bent over with age like a rusty nail pulled from a rotten board.
The little man leered at him from his seat behind the counter as if he had known all along that Mordecai would be entering at that precise moment. "Close the door, it's drafty," Calder grumbled before he refocused his attention on a brass watch he'd been examining with a magnifying glass.
Mordecai obeyed in silence. He didn't come to the shop often, but every time he did the interior was different. Where there had once been a pile of chairs, tables and other furniture now lay a smattering of broken toys and books with strange designs on them, and the time before that he remembered there had been a big, ornate chess board and bits of silverware.
"What have you got?" Calder groused. He never wasted time with pleasantries.
Mordecai approached the counter and laid out his latest catch on it. A silvery ring beset with a gemstone, a silk handkerchief in garish pink, a pale green crystal-like stone, a wooden toy, and finally, a golden bracelet delicate like its former owner.
The shine of gold had an immediate effect on the little man. His bushy eyebrows jumped up and Mordecai thought he detected a faint twitch on the corners of the man's mouth, as though he were trying to remember how to smile.
"Where'd you get that?"
Mordecai bobbed his shoulders with feigned innocence. "Found it."
"Found it! Heh!" the old merchant scoffed. "Sure you did you little crook," he shook his head in disapproval. As if he gave one hoot where the trinkets people brought him or what dead fingers they'd been pulled from.
Mordecai knew better than to argue. he simply crossed his arms over his chest and waited while Calder studied everything he'd brought in. It didn't take long for boredom to overtake him and his eyes to start wondering, and then his hands followed suit. Yet despite his old age, Calder's claw-like hand came down quick and vicious when Mordecai made the mistake of picking up one of the other trinkets on the counter.
"Keep those grubby paws of yours where I can see them," he sneered. "There's enough here for you to risk the drop."
Mordecai leaned lazily against the counter and puffed his cheeks. "You'd hang too, old man. So are you going to take it or no?"
Calder considered the options briefly before he swept the ring, the bracelet, and the green crystal aside. "I'll take those, the rest is worthless."
"You can keep the 'chief," Mordecai said as he held out one hand and stuffed the wooden toy back in his with the other pocket. "Pink seems like your kind of color."
Calder muttered something into his greasy beard, yet despite his grumblings he still handed over a handful of diamond-shaped silver pieces. There was no favor Mordecai could ask of and old, grumpy man and he'd found that silver traded more easily for the sorts of things he wanted to get.
"Always a pleasure doin' business with you old man," Mordecai smirked.
"Get the hell out before I change my mind."
Mere moments later Mordecai was out of the smelly, decrepit shop, his pocket heavy with the new silver and his mind racing with all the things he could trade it for. He had promised he'd be home within the hour, and although he knew he should, he found himself wandering the silk's streets with a skip in his step. With his hands stuffed firmly in his pockets, he stopped before one of the gambling houses and wondered if he might become a richer man still if father luck favored him today.
Mordecai knew better. He entered the shop and knew exactly how far to push the door open before it would slam into a mountain of trinkets. The owner was neither a neat or pleasant man, greedy and bent over with age like a rusty nail pulled from a rotten board.
The little man leered at him from his seat behind the counter as if he had known all along that Mordecai would be entering at that precise moment. "Close the door, it's drafty," Calder grumbled before he refocused his attention on a brass watch he'd been examining with a magnifying glass.
Mordecai obeyed in silence. He didn't come to the shop often, but every time he did the interior was different. Where there had once been a pile of chairs, tables and other furniture now lay a smattering of broken toys and books with strange designs on them, and the time before that he remembered there had been a big, ornate chess board and bits of silverware.
"What have you got?" Calder groused. He never wasted time with pleasantries.
Mordecai approached the counter and laid out his latest catch on it. A silvery ring beset with a gemstone, a silk handkerchief in garish pink, a pale green crystal-like stone, a wooden toy, and finally, a golden bracelet delicate like its former owner.
The shine of gold had an immediate effect on the little man. His bushy eyebrows jumped up and Mordecai thought he detected a faint twitch on the corners of the man's mouth, as though he were trying to remember how to smile.
"Where'd you get that?"
Mordecai bobbed his shoulders with feigned innocence. "Found it."
"Found it! Heh!" the old merchant scoffed. "Sure you did you little crook," he shook his head in disapproval. As if he gave one hoot where the trinkets people brought him or what dead fingers they'd been pulled from.
Mordecai knew better than to argue. he simply crossed his arms over his chest and waited while Calder studied everything he'd brought in. It didn't take long for boredom to overtake him and his eyes to start wondering, and then his hands followed suit. Yet despite his old age, Calder's claw-like hand came down quick and vicious when Mordecai made the mistake of picking up one of the other trinkets on the counter.
"Keep those grubby paws of yours where I can see them," he sneered. "There's enough here for you to risk the drop."
Mordecai leaned lazily against the counter and puffed his cheeks. "You'd hang too, old man. So are you going to take it or no?"
Calder considered the options briefly before he swept the ring, the bracelet, and the green crystal aside. "I'll take those, the rest is worthless."
"You can keep the 'chief," Mordecai said as he held out one hand and stuffed the wooden toy back in his with the other pocket. "Pink seems like your kind of color."
Calder muttered something into his greasy beard, yet despite his grumblings he still handed over a handful of diamond-shaped silver pieces. There was no favor Mordecai could ask of and old, grumpy man and he'd found that silver traded more easily for the sorts of things he wanted to get.
"Always a pleasure doin' business with you old man," Mordecai smirked.
"Get the hell out before I change my mind."
Mere moments later Mordecai was out of the smelly, decrepit shop, his pocket heavy with the new silver and his mind racing with all the things he could trade it for. He had promised he'd be home within the hour, and although he knew he should, he found himself wandering the silk's streets with a skip in his step. With his hands stuffed firmly in his pockets, he stopped before one of the gambling houses and wondered if he might become a richer man still if father luck favored him today.
