He Was Almost Absorbed By The System - Part Two

Chapter One Hundred And Seventy One - A Crowded Mind

Mr Quaintly had been in the pawn shop business for several years, having inherited the shop from his father, who had inherited it from his father... it was an honest trade that perhaps could be considered a little dishonest. They gave money to those without in exchange for something worth the money being given. And should the poor beggar who had sold away their meagre assets be able to buy it back, they did so with interest. Still, Mr Quaintly felt that being in the business was better than being a money lender; if those in need of money could not give it back, Mr Quaintly would not be banging on any doors making demands; their items would just remain in his hands.

This meant that he had quite the collection building up within his shop, so naturally he would attempt to divest himself of them by allowing them to be purchased by the public. Thus the risk to the seller using his services was to lose their items for good. But such was the need of he who pawned his things here. Of course Mr Quaintly also obtained items that had a risk of being illegally obtained in the first place or items that the sellers simply did not want in the first place, but could not rid themselves elsewhere.

Mr Quaintly had just sent Mrs Hunt upon her way after purchasing her husbands Sunday boots for the sum of 1 shilling so she might supply the ungrateful man some cheap wine for the week. He placed them behind the counter knowing she would be back on Friday to buy them for a shilling and tuppence, when she received her wages from the factory. He never charged her obscenely for repurchase, he felt she was pitiful enough.

Now he just had one customer in his shop, a strange one who was rummaging through boxes and shelves in a rather cobwebbed corner that most avoided. It was here he placed items that he was uncertain of their value or origins. The man was muttering to himself constantly, occasionally verbally speaking a question and not there long after answering it by himself. Mr Quaintly was wondering if he ought to call a mental institution to pick the man up, certain that his oddness was not the result of alcohol, when the man suddenly stood up having come to a decision.

"Good sir," the youth approached the counter with a selection of goods in arms. Mr Quaintly was startled by the rather nobby accent spilling from his lips. From his poor clothing, he thought the young man was a commoner such as hisself. "Could I perhaps barter for the purchase of these goods?"

Mr Quaintly looked down at the junk upon the counter, bushy brows raised. Was he serious? He picked up the foreign sword that had been in stock since his grandfather's time. "Are you sure about this?" He said, even though it went against his usual ethics of things. He didn't really want the attractive youth to be thrown in a cell for the sake of owning a weapon. Sure it was alright for the upper crust, but a crooked copper would happily place judgement on those commoners who looked at him wrong. "You risk arrest for it, if you are caught with it."

"Benwang will take his chances," the man said, his tone sounded as calm as still water and exotic as a lotus flower. The older man shook the strange thoughts from mind and frowned. Surely he should have called out the men in white coats.

With a inward sigh, he glanced over the goods and came up with a sum. The man began to barter, his voice returning to that of a upper class gentleman, but the price settled on was not too unfavourable for Mr Quaintly. "Be certain to hide that thing well," Mr Quaintly said, kindly as the youth happily left his shop with his goods. The old man shook his head with a sigh, wondering what was going through the young man's mind, but he pushed the thought to one side as a new customer entered his shop, this one carrying a pair of cuff links he wished to pawn.

*****

Aidan wasn't sure what had occurred when he had woken from his daze. He was lying upon his back in the living room beside a closed front door, vaguely aware that this place was not his own. He had tried to figure out what had happened, but the last thing that he recalled was the little voice that called itself a backup system sending him a message that his missions were complete and asking him if he wished to leave his world. He had sat up and immediately felt the wrongness of his body.