Glory Be

Chapter Five

Sydney's father ran into the main room and threw a cold stare in his direction, "Quick throw your hair up, look more presentable boy." He barked. Sydney furrowed his brow, off put by the demands, but knew something was up.

"Huh? Old man? What's going on?" Sydney chased him as his dad left for the front room. As he walked and called, he quickly wrapped his hair up into a messy ponytail.

"The Priest and his son are coming down, and I don't want any trouble. I get you don't give heed to any of its Syd, but that family protects this town, ya hear?" His father barked as he quickly straightened collectibles and dusted off old inventory.

"Jesus Christ," Sydney said sarcastically, "Why the hell are they coming?"

"I don't know! The neighbors were talking that's all!" The old man spat, "Just hide your damn skeptic books in your room and keep to yourself. Don't make any smart remarks or else the dogs will have ya." Sydney shook off his dad's threats, but quickly started gathering his things. There was no way in hell he was risking a hanging from that man for breaking some damn made-up rules.

Sydney had seen and meet the priest a few times of course, and his son, the heir, he had met as well. Dastardly guy he was, just like his father. All uptight, stick up his ass, always acting like they were following a script or some sort. Sydney huffed and scoffed at the idea of those two noising around his father's shop. Looking at his stuff, looking at the newspaper before it was done. Touching stuff, they shouldn't be touching. Sydney grabbed an old pagan spell book from the ground, exhaling in relief. He wasn't a pagan himself, but reading about the stuff was mad interesting. It'd be hell if the priest found out.

Sydney ran upstairs with his books under his arm and threw them onto his bed. He threw his arms up in frustration and ran back downstairs. His dad met him at the bottom of the stairs, broom in hand.

"Get now, go clean the front room. Wash the windows too if you got time. I'm gonna dust the machines," his father gave him the broom and walked off. Sydney rolled his eyes but walked to the front room anyways. His father hasn't been this relentless with cleaning ever since the 18th birthday incident. Sydney grumbled as he cleaned, but eventually that monologue turned to a hum, which turned into a light song. Sydney loved the traveling music shows, and the local musicians at the saloons. He owned a guitar himself but didn't play often as he was busy working himself half to death on his father's orders. Had to get his rebellious boy into shape he says. Sydney says he's just exploring his options.

Just as Sydney finished the floors, his father came in. His hair was frizzy and clearing the sight for his obvious bald spot. "Dad, you look like a donkey's ass, go clean yourself up before we get hanged for public indecency." Sydney playfully jeered.

His father raised his hand, and almost shouted. "You better behave boy," He turned and rushed upstairs to his mirror. Sydney shrugged and chuckled a bit as he turned to some displays. He fixed some of the books there. These were all non-fiction, shouldn't be a problem with the priest. Books about animals, and farming, and how to train your horse. Sydney was just planning on flying under the radar during all this anyhow. He didn't know the first thing about manners—especially how to act around that man.

The bell on the door startled Sydney, and he quickly turned around. The priest was standing in the doorway, with someone Sydney didn't recognize as the heir. He was slightly skinner and smaller. Paler skin, and a softer, kinder face. Like a baby. The two both removed their hats from their heads and looked at Sydney.

"Uh," Sydney stuttered, "Welcome to Kowal's printshop and bookstore, the owner just ran upstairs he'll be right down." Sydney hoped to play as an unimportant shop boy, "How can assist?"