The Eternal Shopkeeper

The Eternal Shopkeeper

In a small alleyway, just across the street from the stairs leading down into the Lower Wards, there was a store. The purpose of this store was simple; it’s existence. It was a small store, its construction feeble, its ascetics skewed. Located underneath the balcony of the main plaza, the store was quiet, had very few customers, and had been a persistent pain in the asses of Cybr since before the Lower Wards was disbanded from the unity of the various districts. They wanted to build upon the ground on which the store stood. Plans to force the store’s owner to vacate the premises were abruptly denied whenever Cybr proposed a new course of action to the high council. To their disapproval, they were stuck with it.

The owner of the store, Terrance Jones, remained inside the store for his entire life. He couldn’t remember his childhood, just that one day he entered the store, and had never left since. Whether it was the interesting information contained within, or the compelling urge for adventure that grounded him, he didn’t know. The previous owner of the store, whose name is nothing but dust in the wind, had trained Terrance in a special type of shop-keeping. He taught Terrance the purpose of the store, and educated him on the intricate details of the world. The details no-one else understood, or acknowledged when faced with the truth. After his mentor’s passing, Terrance became the protector; The Eternal Shopkeeper. He was tasked with a life of solitude, continuing to protect a secret which had been kept for over three centuries. For this store sold nothing, but gave everything.

No-one was really sure how long he had been inside, since no-one was alive from the time before the main Plaza was constructed, one-hundred-and-thirty-five years ago. It was not even known how long the building had been standing. Everyone had just come to accept it for what it was; an immovable object, stuck in a time long forgotten.

Terrance himself was black. He wore the same bland clothes, sat in the same brown leather chair, and read. A personality such as his is hard to describe. He lived for knowledge, to become wiser. He spoke only when the need was great, and drank only when his mouth was dry. He was a simple person, living a life with only one purpose, to protect a secret until the time came to unveil it. He was told that certain events would come to pass, and he would know exactly what to do.