Coming of Age

The snow had covered Varrock completely that year, from the Palace to Aubury’s rune shop. The alleyways looked surprisingly peaceful coated in the thick white snow, and the south side of town looked respectable for the only time to this day. Carol singers sang aloud in the Square reciting songs to Saradomin in the festive period beneath the lights of the tall Wintumber tree which residents and visitors alike marvelled at.

“Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!” called a man with particularly rosy cheeks.

He was stood next to a fire warming his hands, while cooking several Asgarnian delicacies he had brought in for his neighbouring kingdom to try. There were decorations up in all the shops around the city; apart from one.

“Christmas by back side!” exclaimed the owner of Blake’s Books.

Bernard Blake was eccentric and bad tempered; he was sat in his chair in his book store reading a tome on the origins of Christmas which he had found lying around.

“I can’t stand all this festive nonsense!” he snapped, downing another mouthful of MIsthalanian wine. “This stuff is much better than that rubbish being sold out the front, how ‘’dare’’ that Asgarnian filth tread near my doorstep!”

He took another sip, and threw the book to the floor, making the untidy, cramped store all the more claustrophobic.

“What the Hell are you doing boy?” asked Bernard angrily.

Tarqinder was a young man of nineteen years and had been working in Blake’s Books since he had left school at sixteen. He hated being shut in every hour of the day with little sunlight thanks to Bernard making him fix boards over the windows after claiming it was ‘too bright’.

“I was just reading something,” Tarqinder replied, putting down a book which described weaponry and armour.

“Get back to work you lazy child before I hang you from a bookshelf upside-down!” Bernard exclaimed, hurling an empty wine bottle at him.

Tarqinder dodged it as the bottle shattered against the wall sending pieces of glass all over the floor.

“Look at that mess! Clean it up!” Bernard snapped, leaning back in his chair opening a book called ‘’The Art of Winemaking’’.

Tarqinder got down on his knees and began to pick up the pieces of glass