Log 4:
Date: July 5th, 2190 I.C.
Time: 21: 24
Location: Brew It Rai Cafe/Rai Family Residence
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After Trevor left the cafe, we closed up for the night.
Our cafe closes at 21:00 every day unless it's a holiday, and on the weekends, it's 22:00. As I flick the light switch off, I watch a few vendors pack up for the day. Their colorful tents and Ether cooktops fold away into their compact Hackneys. The lights that had blinded the streets earlier faded away one by one. Only a few stands that were opening till midnight remained. The crowd there earlier departed from the vicinity on the cable cars making their last rounds for the night.
I turned my back towards the window before walking to a wooden door adjacent to the register counter. I twist the tarnished metal knob to the right revealing a long wooden staircase. A light filtered from far above. I marched up the stairs towards the light, my boots squeaking against the polished wood while my hands brushed against the wooden railing nailed into the side of the wall.
As I emerged at the top, the first thing that greater me was an open squared space. An L-shaped couch in the far left corner of the space in front of a stone chimney has been a part of the space for ages. Mounted above the chimney was a 56-inch Telecaster. A green Ether stone embedded on the bottom part of its frame could be activated with a remote controller on the wooden coffee table sandwiched between the couch and the chimney.
Off to the bottom right corner, obscured by a similar staircase that ascended to the third floor of this cottage-style building, was a round glass dining table with four of the same light wooden chairs from the cafe downstairs. Four rattan placemats decorated the pristine table top. To my left, a long kitchen extended from nearly one end of the room to the other. The marble countertop and hanging glass light fixtures gave the kitchen a modern and refined feel. It was even equipped with the latest Ether appliances from a five-burner stovetop cum grill and oven, a reheater-vent combination on top of the stove, a double-door two-temperature cooler, and a dishwasher that blended seamlessly into the cabinetry. There were also some other miscellaneous appliances scattered across the countertop, which weren't exactly necessary but just nice to have.
In the small area between the kitchen and the staircase that descended to the cafe was a hallway with a few doors. The one closest to the kitchen was the pantry. The one next to it was a storage closet, and the door at the end was the guest bedroom, while the bathroom was constructed underneath the space between the staircase. If you ask me, it's a poor design, but we've had no issues with it.
This was my home.
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Like many Commoner owned businesses, we lived and worked in the same place. The first floor was designated for the shop, while the second and third floors were our residence. Of course, the doors accessing those other floors were closed to customers for good reasons.
When we first moved into the cottage, it was pretty dilapidated from age. We couldn't afford to remodel it since the business hadn't quite taken off yet. Once it did, we made a substantial profit and fixed it up a few years ago. Though a bit pricey, this place was our home, and we should make it look like one.
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I remove my shoes and put them on the shoe rack in the closet, donning a pair of gray slippers while hanging my bag on the coat hanger lining the wall next to the closet.
I wandered over to the dinner table, and the smell of cream pasta wafted through my nose. My parents sitting at their respective spots with plates of creamy alfredo. As I took my own seat, there was one left empty. My brother's seat.
"So, Arian, how was work today?" Dad asked in his usual kind voice.
"Same as always," I reply, giving him the same answer as I did with Trevor. "Everything is smooth sailing until Blank comes in to ruin it. It's like he knows my work schedule no matter how much I adjust it."
My mom laughs.
"Sweetie, you're always going to have clients like that. Remember the saying; the customer comes first."
I roll my eyes. I long groan escapes my mouth.
"I get that, but it's infuriating. He's basically Trevor but ten times harder to deal with, not as sociable, and is probably mental. Okay, I take that back. He's not Trevor."
"Not everyone is easy to handle." Dad takes a swig of water from his cup. " You're always gonna have people like Blank, which is unavoidable, unfortunately. All we can do is remain calm and do our best to serve the customer."
I sighed, knowing there wasn't much of a solution. Blank was just doing his job while I was doing mine. Considering that I also don't know him to well, I also had no right to judge him either.
"I guess so. Anyhow, how's my brother doing up in Lengeheim?"
"Mason said he's doing well. He called in while you were at work," Mom responded, popping a mouthful of lettuce. "After settling that contract, the Lengeheim Duchy offered to give them a tour around for the rest of the week. They're currently going skiing down the Lengeheim Mountain Range."
Man, I'm jealous.
"Lucky," I grumbled, shoveling pasta into my mouth. "I mean, who wouldn't want a free vacation."
"It's not exactly free, you know." Dad thrust his fork at me. "The Merchant Team worked hard for it. It took a month of negotiations. They say the young Duke of Lengeheim is stricter than his father. After all, Lengeheim has many regulations for doing business in their territory. Just think of that trip as a hope for successful cooperation."
"Let's pray so."
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Upon finishing supper, I ate half of the Jackmansi Danish my parents left aside. It was sweet, but I think my parents also added some citron juice to slightly sour it. I guess it was to adjust to the Imperium Cityfolk's taste. Definitely, a nice treat to have after a long day.
I trudge up to my room on the third floor at the end of the corridor. It was a very plain square room without anything that stood out. A wooden shelf with certificates and medals enclosed in glass boxes and frames was spread across the three levels. A bed situated in one corner of the room, away from the balcony door, covered by a dark curtain right next to my desk. On top of my desk was my personal Tabloid with a keyboard attachment, a night lamp with a pencil jar built into it, a round analog alarm clock I purchased from an antique store, and a cylindrical Liaiser charger which I placed my Liaiser onto charge for the night. The blue Ether stone embedded into its body pulsed a soft blue hue. There were also drawers underneath the desk to file documents and other miscellaneous items. I also used it to store my old school books. Some of which I still use as references today.
To the other side of the balcony door was my closet, which stored my clothing, bedding, luggage, and some old practice weapons I kept around from my Academy days. Though, I suppose they don't serve much use anymore since I work inside the city. Well, it never hurts to have a means of self-defense, even in these somewhat peaceful times.
I brush aside one rack of clothing to find a long object wrapped in a thick white cloth. Twine fastened it at various sections, yet I could still see the gleaming silver body peaking out of the cloth.
A wave of nostalgia washed over my mind as I pulled out the object from the closet, untying the twine that fastened the cloth to it.
Unveiling the object, I let out a small sigh. It was a silver weapon approximately 72 inches long to suit my petite figure resembling a spear but was a bit different. While it possessed the sharp tip and slightly flexible body that spears possessed, it also housed a silver Ether core the size of my fist. Towards the bottom of the spear, at its hilt, was a ring with a long wire spun around it. If one briefly followed the wire's trail, they would come across a spool containing more wire attached to a cylindrical apparatus.
This was a rather unorthodox weapon I learned to wield back in my Academy days, Gleafaver.
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The Gleafaver was a hybrid weapon that combined the aspects of a spear and staff developed for Close Combat Magicians or other similar Positions on the frontlines during times of war. Typically, the Gleafaver would not be used on its own but instead attached to an Ether Generator through a wire, to allow it to return to its owner without requiring a high level of Ether manipulation, or to a weapons case, which included the same reel mechanism as the former but could store other weapons, for a convenient switch in battle.
Most wielders of the Gleafaver prefer the former as it's simpler to use, but I was one of the rare cases and had the latter. The reason for it being the Gleafaver on its own can be an inconvenience, depending on the terrain, especially when one needs to fight in enclosed spaces, so I preferred to switch out my weapon to adapt to where I am.
The weapons case I possessed was the basic set for Gleafaver welders, which is also commonly purchased by individuals trying to figure out what weapon they want to specialize in. My case, like many others, was divided into separate different-sized compartments and contained various weapons and attachments, throwing knives, an archery set, a long-pointed needle sword for narrower spaces, extra spools of wire, and several Ether cores which I've never had to use.
I used to use all of these in the past but, of course, the Gleafaver was my specialty. Nowadays, I store it along with the weapons case separately in my closet. Though I could fit my Gleafaver into my compact weapons case using a Sigil, I don't do so because continuously compressing the Gleafaver can cause damage to its body and eventually make it brittle since compression alters the physical structure of the weapon. If I have to switch out weapons or transport my Gleafaver, I will compress it, but I don't think that will happen unless I move out of my parent's home.
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"I should really get a proper cleaning kit. Dust is gathering on it."
Picking up the Gleafaver, I twirl it around in my hands, the feeling of swinging the weapon around in various arced motions returning to me but not by much. If I injected Ether into it, I might destroy my room. Plus, It was getting late, and I had work tomorrow, so I wrapped up the Gleafaver and placed it back in its comfortable spot in my closet. I shut the door of the closet soundly. Nostalgia welled in my heart, and a smile made it onto my face.
It would be fun if I could use it again.
Yet it wouldn't be long until my wishes would be fulfilled, but not in the way I'd anticipated it would go.