Written July 22 2015
Jace Beleren, the Living Guildpact, needed a chair.
A big chair, leather, the sort he could just fall back into.
It was for this purpose that he found himself at Promenade Crossing Furniture.
He attempted to get the attention of a shop-hand, a particularly rotund Goblin. The goblin, seeing Jace, sported a face akin to that a tulip might give in the wake of the Zendikari Roil. It wasn’t that the goblin didn’t have a name, but years of retail service had made him accustomed to simply be called ‘Hey, you!’. If he tried very hard, he was sure he could recall his name, but he wasn’t being paid to recall, was he?
“L-living Guildpact! Wel-welcome to Promenade Crossing Furniture and Foundry”
“And foundry?” Jace raised an eyebrow
“There was a merger with Gorton’s foundry next door” the goblin explained. Of course by merger he meant a particularly annoyed cyclops smashed the wall between the two stores while haggling about a sofa.
“Yes, well,” Jace scratched his nose. “I’m looking for a chair”
“We’ve got plenty of those Mister Living Guildpact Sir. What kind are you seeking?” every neuron in his tiny brain was working to calculate his possible commission. He made sure to use all those ‘polite’ words he’s heard other talk about
“Just Jace is fine; the biggest, comfiest one you have”
“Mmm, Leather?” the Goblin stoked his chin.
“Perfect.” Jace agreed
“Right this way Mister Jace, Sir”
There was a moment’s awkward pause before Jace followed the shop hand down a long hall way of couches and stools that ranged from the extravagant to what one might expect someone stranded on a desert island to craft from driftwood. None of it looked exceptionally appealing to Jace, but that may have been more to do with the stench of melting steel from across the store.
Eventually the Guildpact and the goblin reached a large mahogany door bearing the sign ‘the Fancy stuff’, though in Ravnican it sounded much more official. Language evolves oddly on city-worlds. It has something to do with the dramatic increase in number of street fairs.
The door lead them into a large round room, devoid of the narrow halls of the main floor, rather, it was filled with a maze of high end furniture. They wandered past several impossibly lavish beds and towering bookcases, the latter of which Jace paused to inspect, before coming to a truly wondrous chair.
“Here you are sir, the finest leather, expertly made mahogany frame and cushions of angel down.”
“Angel down?”
“D—donated of course” the goblin said, knowing full well that it was only half true.
“Mmm, still, I’m not sure I feel comfortable with it, maybe we stick to Griffin down or something inorganic?”
“Of course,” the goblin agreed, sweating a bit, which for a goblin is quite a lot a sweat.
“Let’s keep looking then.”
The next chair was a bit larger. As the Goblin expounded on the pedigree of the Griffin whose feathers had been used in the cushions, Jace tried the seat. It was soft, yes. But his feet felt a bit to high off the floor, he wasn’t sure it would fit at his new wooden desk. He held up his hand halfway through the goblin’s tale of how Greyclow the Griffin won the skygames five times.
“This is very nice, achievements of the…donor not withstanding, but I’m afraid it might be…too big?”
The goblin nodded, screaming internally. “Yes…well I have a few more to show you, I suppose”
Each chair had something about it that soured Jace to it, whether it was the color, the size, or the number of people who had died in it (The goblin, unaware of Jace’s mind magic, shuttered to think what he might do if he knew the real numbers).
Finally, they reached it-the final chair.“I do hope this one is to your liking?”Jace inspected each cushion, each stich; he did a few test flops into the rich, brown leather of the seat.
Jace stood in thought for some time, making the shop hand increasingly nervous.
Finally, he spoke.“I’ll take it.”The goblin grinned from ear to ear, an impressive feat for a race with such large ears.
“Very well, that will be six thousand zinos.”Jace hesitated, then handed the goblin a large bag of money, which the goblin in turn, pretended to be able to count.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jace had wrangled Lavinia into helping him get the chair into his office, and their hours of work had finally paid off, Jace Beleren, The Living Guildpact, stood where many of his clients had, looking at the desk, and the chair behind it, with admiration.
Just as Jace took his first step towards the chair, there was a fiery explosion, and the signature tinge in the air of a planeswalk.The Chair was now simply a pile of ash at the feet of a rebellious pyromancer.
“Jace Beleren,” Chandra Nalaar began, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I need your he—Are…are you crying?”