CHAPTER 44: CHAPTER 43: THE MAYOR’S PROPOSAL

Kael had expected a cell.

After all, when half a dozen armored guards arrived at your inn room and escorted you without answering questions, there were only so many outcomes you could predict. A prison. A courtroom. Maybe even a silent back alley with a shovel already waiting in the mud.

He did not expect to be brought to a mansion.

"This isn’t a holding facility," Kael muttered under his breath as the heavy gate opened.

"No," Officer Marrek replied. "It’s the mayor’s estate."

What the hell is going on...?

They passed through a corridor of tiled flooring and into a wide receiving chamber with high windows and sunlight pouring across polished wooden furniture. There was nothing grandiose—no velvet, no golden statues—but everything was well-crafted and well-maintained.

Kael stood waiting.

Then the door opened.

A woman entered, dressed in charcoal robes with silver trim, the Matgorat seal embroidered over her left shoulder. She moved with confidence but not arrogance. Her hair was tied back. Her eyes were sharp. Older, perhaps in her forties—but her posture and presence gave her the air of someone far more powerful than her surroundings suggested.

"I apologize for the sudden summons, Mister Kael," she said without preamble. "My name is Lysandra Halweir. I am the city mayor of Ginip, on behalf of the western regional court of House Matgorat."

She gestured to a chair across from her. "Please, sit. You’re not in trouble."

Not yet, he thought, but obeyed.

She poured herself a cup of tea from the silver pot on the desk. "Do you drink?"

"Not usually," Kael replied.

"Then I won’t waste it." She took a slow sip before setting the cup down with a soft clink. "There are many reasons I could have called you here... But let’s not dance around things."

Kael kept quiet. He’d learned that silence was a powerful negotiation tool.

"First," the mayor said, folding her hands on the desk, "let me express my gratitude. Truly. You’ve done more for Ginip’s economy in the past few days than the Merchant’s Council has in the past three months."

Kael blinked. "...I see. Thank you. And thank you for allowing me to do business here."

That was no lie. Back on Earth, setting up a legal business took months. Endless documents, tax forms, identity verification, licenses—it was a bureaucratic dungeon without any loot at the end.

Here, he rented a stall and started trading in a day.

The mayor tilted her head, smiling faintly. "That’s not the response I usually get. Most merchants who come here act like they’re doing me a favor. ’We brought our precious goods to your poor little border town,’ they say."

Kael chuckled lightly. "I’ve met a few people like that."

Artificer, he thought.

The mayor continued, "They sell to us at inflated prices. They underpay our local craftsmen. And when they leave, they boast of how they squeezed gold from the mud."

She leaned forward. "You’re different. You’ve brought in goods no one’s ever seen. And you sell them at reasonable prices. Adventurers are spending more coin here now, which in turn supports the inns, the blacksmiths, the taverns, even the tailors."

Kael remained composed, but inwardly, he was relieved.

So the Artificer didn’t report me after all... That’s good. Very good.

"I admit," she went on, "I had my doubts when I first heard about you. Unknown merchant. No connections. Foreign name. But when I spoke with my people at the city hall... even the grumpiest among them sang your praises."

She gestured to the far end of the room, where a leather scroll was pinned to the wall. It looked like a report—charts, ledgers, merchant stamps.

Kael glanced back at her. "I’m just doing business. That’s all."

"And making a profit, I presume?"

"A good one," he admitted, "but less than I’d make if I followed the example of other merchants."

The mayor nodded slowly. "Then allow me to be direct, Kael. I want you to stay."

He froze. "Stay?"

"Yes. I want Ginip to grow. And people like you—who see long-term value, not short-term gain—are rare. That’s why I’ve arranged something for you."

She reached into a drawer and pulled out a large iron key.

"This is for a shop near the southern main street. It’s currently unoccupied. Good location, near the foot traffic from the southern gate. There’s space for a storefront, and a second floor you can use as living quarters or storage."

Kael stared at the key. "You’re giving it to me?"

"I’m offering it to you," she corrected. "No rent. For now. Call it an investment. I have the authority as mayor to assign unused city property if I believe it benefits the town. You’ve proven that already."

Kael took the key with a soft click. It felt heavier than it looked.

"There’s a condition," the mayor added.

He nodded. "I figured."

"Just keep doing what you’re doing. Bring in goods. Sell them fairly. Help the adventurers survive another day out there. In time, perhaps expand your business. Hire locals. Train apprentices. Build roots here."

Kael leaned back in the chair, folding his hands thoughtfully.

He had expected punishment. A fine, maybe an investigation. Not... this. A gift. A promotion. A chance.

So they don’t know anything about the Red Morn auction, or the Artificer’s humiliation. Good. That mess is still buried, for now.

"...Why?" he asked quietly. "Why are you really doing this? I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but it’s rare for someone in power to give so much without a catch."

The mayor was silent for a moment. Then she said, "Because Ginip is a border city. On the maps, we’re insignificant. But we’re the first line between civilization and the Wasteland. And someday... when things go wrong out there, we’ll be the first ones to suffer."

She looked out the window, toward the distant brown ridgeline that marked the edge of known territory.

"People leave this city all the time. Adventurers die, merchants vanish, caravans break down and never return. But once in a while, someone comes along who sees this place not as a backwater... but as a beginning."

She looked at Kael again. "I think you’re one of those people."

Kael didn’t respond immediately. He was weighing her words, measuring the sincerity in her tone, the logic in her offer.

Finally, he bowed his head.

"I accept."

The mayor smiled—not with triumph, but with tired relief. "Good. You’ll find the shop keys registered under your name at the City Office by noon. I’ll have someone escort you, if needed."

He stood, sliding the key into his coat pocket. "Thanks for that too."

"Very well. One more thing."

Kael paused.