"Hurley, you don't have to get here earlier than me to keep your job?"
I turned, startled at the sound of another voice. I'd gotten to the stable early enough that beams of sunlight were just starting to peak over the horizon, softly illuminating the worn wooden stall I was working in. Seeing the barrel chested and grizzled form of Mr.Tucker I relaxed.
"I know Mr.Tucker, but I figured if I was awake I might as well get started. And plus, I enjoy the company of these sweet fellows." I replied with a smile, gesturing to one of the horses we were taking care of.
"You might be the single most productive stable boy I ever had. Heck, most productive working person in this whole town." He muttered shuffling over to his office.
I grinned, enjoying one of the few compliments Mr. Tucker would probably ever give me. He was a good man, the sort to accidentally pay me extra after a chaotic week. Occasionally he would call me a troublesome boy but either way I was glad he acknowledged the extra work I'd been putting in. He had hired me on as just a cleaner in the beginning. But, after his other stable hand moved out, he promoted me to what he called a "coveted position." Although I still believed that to be a stretch, his stable was one of the few places that provided simple and easy work.
The stable itself was situated on the northern side of the town, welcoming any visitors that came through the single road situated between the mountains. Its stalls faced the main street, neatly lined up in a row of four. A roof, supported by weathered wooden beams, provided a small amount of shade in front of the stalls, ensuring the horses remained comfortable. Large blocks of stone were used for the bottoms of each stall, showing scratches and marks from years of use.
Turning back to the stall, I grabbed my shovel to continue mucking out the crap and hay filled floor. The whole of the stable was small, considering that the entirety of the town was small and not often received visitors.
The morning continued as the sun rose over the steep mountains that cut off our little part of the world. The light flared out across the floor adding an amber hue to the four stalls I tended to. The morning light caused one of the two current guests to whinny, slowly getting its feet underneath itself.
The horse was a beautiful thing. Its dark glossy coat shone under the morning rays, giving it an angelic look. Definitely not one of the locals… Walking over I patted the horse and looked around its stall. In the corner hung its saddle, ornately adorned and colored with what I could only assume were expensive dyes. Horse nobility or not I still had a job to finish. Grabbing one of the finer brushes I ran it through the horse's coat. One thing I had learned as a stable hand was that any horse enjoyed a good brush down as long as it was done correctly. As expected, the horse gave another soft whinny and proceeded to nuzzle my hand, causing me to laugh.
"Hungry, are we?"
Reaching over I grabbed a bowl of home-made feed and poured some into a bucket connected to the bottom of stall door. The horse gave an appreciative snicker before it began chomping down.
Setting the bowl back I pulled a stool outside of the first stall and sat down facing the main street. The morning was still quiet, only filled with the sound of a few birds chirping their morning greetings to one another.
To my left sat the Black Burn mountains, nicknamed for their black peaks. They isolated the town by curving around like a semicircle, sandwiching us between the ocean and their imposing heights. A small trail ran through the center of them, still allowing for travelers and traders. Infront of the mountains lay a copse of trees, too small to be a forest, but still sizeable enough to be a destination that my friends and I would visit. Between that and the town was a couple miles of windblown grassland in either direction, many cottages spread out across the distance.
Slowly signs of life began to show around me. The few people who could afford homes within the town opened the shutters on their shanty-ish red and yellow buildings. Most of them had family run shops below them, providing much convenience to themselves. The town baker across the street pulled his curtains back and set up his baskets of bread. Seeing me he smiled and waved me over, opening his door.
"Hurley! I've got something to show you."
Following him back my nose was assaulted with the fresh aroma of all different kinds of bread, pastries, cakes, and the like. The front part of the bakery was used to hold the assortments of baked goods in different baskets and clay plates. Baker Tom however continued on to the back, where the real magic happened. He waved me over to the first of two large tables placed within the room. On the back wall I could see his multilayer oven, allowing him efficiently bake while preparing other batches. On both walls windows remained open allowing the hot steam from pies to escape. I had first met Tom when he had come out of his bakery to enjoy the serene town before everything started moving. Like me, Tom was up early to get ready for the day ahead, baking from the early hours till just before opening time.
"Here I wanted to show you this." Tom reached over to one of his tables and passed me a hand sized loaf of warm bread wrapped in a waxy paper.
Carefully opening it I found out immediately, by the smell alone, that it was sourdough.
"You're going to make me tear up." I said with a heartfelt laugh.
"Well I had some extra dough and a miniature mold so I thought I wouldn't let it go to waste."
I wrapped my arms around him, barely going halfway across his massive frame. He just patted my head and chuckled. After I had thanked him for what felt like and probably was the hundredth time, he shooed me out the door to continue his work.
I took my bread and sat down on the stool again, nibbling on it bit by bit. Now the town truly was in action. Next to Tom's the candlemaker had opened his doors as well, a little further the tavern, skip a few houses and then there was the town hall, past that a shoemaker, and not much. That was until I looked further into the distance. After the road ended a trail began, slowly winding up to the coast where a lone building sat.
"The Arcane Repository…" I murmured aloud.
"Hurley! What are you sittin' around for?" I jumped and realized that for the second time this morning Mr.Tucker had managed to sneak up on me.
"Uh don't worry sir all the stalls are mucked and one of the horses is already fed and brushed." I said stammering.
"Hmph. And what bout' the other one? Already put a bowl of feed in there?"
He raised a lone eyebrow at me, both hands behind his back like he was some sort of captain.
"No sir. When I fed the other one it still hadn't woken up, sir."
"Well, looks like our guest here is awake and ready so get on that."
He turned to go back to his office but I had a question to ask.
"Sir? After I finish the feeding and give him a brush down, may I be excused?"
"I really don't care Hurley. Jus' finish up before you go."
Grinning at my success I ran to the feed and repeated the same process from earlier. Finishing quickly, I stepped down onto main street, taking a moment to enjoy the full exposure of the sun. Facing the southern side of the town I locked my sights onto the Repository.