Shelter From the Storm

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The shopkeeper barely glanced at them when they walked in, as if teenagers walking in was a normal occurrence, even pink ones. He didn't even give Mabel a second look, even though she'd been here before and was definitely hard to forgot.

"That time already, huh?" he grunted. He tilted his head to the side. "Winter clothes are over there. Suit up or you'll regret it."

"Oh, thank... you," Kipo said, startled. "How did you-?"

"You're not the first to come looking for jobs here," he snorted irritably. "Just take you jobs and get going already. It seems your already pretty late."

"Oh..." Kipo said. That did technically make sense with what she had seen before. "Thank you. How much-?"

"Nothing, they're for the job."

"Oh," Kipo said, beginning to feel like a broken record. She started to move to the coat rack, where the rest of her friends had gathered, before she paused, thinking better of it.

"Um... do you know Father Arlen?" Kipo asked him, as politely as she could, because he really didn't seem to be in the mood to talk. The shopkeeper glanced up at her, pausing his reading. Kipo would have liked to know what he was reading, but it was hidden under the counter, and Kipo assumed peering over would be rude.

"What do you mean 'do I know Father Arlen', everyone here knows that guy," the shopkeeper replied gruffly. "He practically runs this town."

"So he's my... boss now?" Kipo wondered. "Isn't he a pastor? Because he's a 'Father'."

"Well..." the shopkeeper paused, drumming his fingers on the counter. He seemed to be trying to wonder what to say next. "No, he doesn't. The Church is only the second highest authority in this town, and Mayor Darden Tawnie is the one in charge. Tawnie is technically the one writing your paychecks, but he can't run his own house, let alone a town. For all intents and purposes, Father Arlen is the big guy here. Has been for generations."

Kipo frowned. "One guy for generations?"

"Well, no," the shopkeeper replied. "'Father Arlen' is like a title, passed from father to son, every couple decades or so, even though the guy won't admit it. He seems to like to say that he's the only Arlen, but no one really believes that."

Kipo nodded, not really understanding. "That's... interesting."

"No, no, you can say it," the shopkeeper told her, almost kindly. He glanced out the window. "At least down here. Best not to repeat this up there; last I heard; he's got spies now."

"Spies?" Kipo repeated. "Does Father Arlen have enemies?"

"All Arlen has are employees but don't bother telling him that," the shopkeeper snorted. "No, that guys gone off the deep end. The most he's supposed to be running is a diamond mine, but now it's like he's a dictator, running a cult no one is volunteering for."

Kipo hummed, curious. "So you don't believe what he's saying? About demons and monsters? I thought everyone here did."

The shopkeeper barked at a laugh. "No, not everyone. At least not those of us who aren't listening to that rhetoric twenty-four seven. "

"You know they're killing people, right?" Kipo asked him. The shopkeeper nodded.

"Like I said: a cult," the shopkeeper muttered.

"Has it always been like this?" Kipo asked him.

The shopkeeper shrugged. "Hm. Honestly? I dunno. I only go up there at the end of my shift, and I don't talk to a lot of them, but... hm. Maybe it's always been like that. Though they have gotten a little weirder recently. I was surprised to go up one day and they had security."

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