Upon entering the city, he looked around in hope of finding a friendly face. Harry, his owl, was perched apon his shoulder, rotating his head to the left and to the right, aiding in his owners search. See anyone yet? The young boy asked. The owl cooed quietly. Dang it. I was hoping we would find a book shop or an inn or something here. He said, sitting on a bench, and pulling out a small travel bag. He counted his silver, and sighed, putting his silver back into his bag. He layed back on some old potato sacks, and closed his eyes. Harry cooed again. The boy stroked his owls feathers. I know Harry, I'm tired to. He said, sitting up, hoping to find an inn to check into. As he scanned the streets, full of pirates, thieves, slaves, and many animals, he found an inn right next to a tavern. Convenient. The boy said. He got up, grabbed his bag, and walked with Harry on his shoulder, to the inn.
As he entered the inn, he was met with cold glares, smirks, sneers, and many other emotions. He slowly walked to the counter. I would like a room please. He said. The woman at the counter looked him up and down, and gave him a shiny room key. Forty silver for our special rooms. She said. He slowly pulled out his silver, and placed a few shiny coins down in front of her. She smirked, and snatched up the money. He took the room key slowly, and walked up the narrow wooden stairway. He looked at the key. Room 13… unlucky I guess. He said, as he walked up to the dark red door with golden numbers. He slowly turned the doorknob, and entered his room. It was a simple but nice. It had wooden planks for the floor, and two nice beds with red blankets. The window had a view of the whole city, and a desk with a some scrolls and ink. And a few spare silver coins.
He set Harry and his cage on the desk, along with his bag on the chair. He layed on one of the beds, and sighed. Looking out the windows, he saw thieves stealing under the cover of dark cloaks, pirates making deals, and other horrible things going on. He pulled out his journal, and began to write. He wrote about many things, his travels, his wonders, feelings, or even past experiences. The darker it grew, the more tired he became. He yawned, and stretched, putting his journal back on the desk. He pet his owl. Good night Harry. Remember, we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. He said, then blew out his lantern, and fell fast asleep.
He rose early in the morning. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and got up. He looked over to Harry, who was still sleeping soundly. He walked over to him calmly, and rested his hand on his wing gently. Harry. Rise please. The shop opens in thirty minutes, I want to be there when it does open. He said. Harry slowly opened his eyes, and shook out his feathers. He of course, being nocturnal, did not want to get up at such early hours. But, he wanted to make his owner happy, so he cooed a friendly good morning.
Of course, not wanting to waste anytime, the boy rushed down to the tavern, and ate some eggs and buttered bread. His owl, because pets and familiars were not allowed in the tavern, waited outside on the sign post. Upon finishing his breakfast, he had met a lovely young author, who had written a book about business. The authors name was Gandorff, and he instantly stuck up a conversation while the boy finished his eggs. You seem of lovely sorts. Whats your name young man?Said Gandorff. Richard. The boy replied, sipping from his cup. A fine young name for a fine young lad. You see, I am a little author, Richard, and you looked like the man who could help me be noticed. Gandorff offered a friendly smile, and waited for Richards reply. As far as your going you might as well be an unknown author. Richard sourly scoffed.
But Gandorff ignored Richard's comment and went on to talk about his book. Richard tried to tune him out by eavesdropping on others conversations, excusing himself to the washroom, and even trying to leave. But Gandorff would follow him everywhere. He eventually decided he would let Gandorff follow him into the book shop. He payed for his meal, went outside to get his owl, and walked off, Gandorff close on his heels. Of course, my book was aimed to younger audiences wanting to learn the ropes of business, and money making. But of course, I had to use some words that might be a little off your age groups level- All of the things you talked about I've already read in other books. Your stealing from other people. Everyone knows the basic's of business. Just stick to one topic and write about instead of aimlessly pointing to other topics when people least expect. Your writing a novel, not an encyclopedia.
Richard and Gandorff were now in the book shop, and Richard had finished just about every book in the business section while he listened to Gandorff go on and on about his book. They was surrounded by open books and piles upon piles of unread college texts from universities or schools for businesses. And of course, if your writing a book business, you'll need to learn enough of the topic of business to write about it. Richard flipped the page. And of course, you'll have to educate yourself in basic literature. Or else your writing will be uninteresting and dull. To sum it up, not worth reading. Richards voice was cold, and strict, showing no emotions but anger and hatred. But his voice was so high-pitched, it was hard for Gandorff to take him seriously.
Wow… you really know the basics of business. Gandorff exclaimed, almost breathlessly. Thats why I will use everything that you said to make a second book! I thank you so much for your support, and I will be sure to make you proud! Gandorff beamed with pride. Ok, ok! Just get lost already! Richard waved his hand, was if swatting a fly. Gandorff gave one more farewell speech, before wandering off the book shop, purchasing every book on business just a few of his silver coins could afford. Such a pest… Richard said, before returning to reading again.
Long after, as the sun began to reach his highest point, Richard left the shop with one book in hand, his owl perched upon his shoulder, mighty and strong. He walked out into the noon light, bathing in its warmth. He began walking to the tavern to get some lunch, when all of a sudden- An arrow shot into his leg. He cried out, and fell to the ground. Then another arrow shot through his shoulder, just missing Harry. Gods, preserve me! Richard cried, fighting to hold back tears. People shouted and screamed, running in all different directions. He could see mages coming to his aid, with healing spells, but they were soon shot down with many other arrows. Lord please, if this be the last breath I take, preserve my feathered friend, and treat him well. Give him into good hands, and not into the forces of evil.
Another arrow shot into his side. Have mercy! Man alive! Richard yelled. Make it quick and without pain! May my owl not see my suffering! Can you tell his he and I have suffered enough? Tears poured down his face, like waterfalls running down mountains, fading into streams of small salty drops as they fell off his face, and soaked the blood covered arrows. He saw many archers, and many being slain before him. Gods be with these men and women and children who were slain against their will on homelands. Richard cried out once more. Then he heard foot steps. He reluctantly looked up to the individual who had ordered him to be shot. Would he be his savior, or his doom?
