CHAPTER 45: CHAPTER 44: FOUNDATIONS

The mayor reached into another drawer and took out a rolled parchment. "This is a minor trading license. You don’t need it for street stalls, but if you intend to hire people or expand, you’ll need one eventually. I’ve expedited the paperwork."

He took it with quiet gratitude. "...Thank you."

She nodded again, more formally this time. "I expect good things from you, Kael."

He turned toward the door, escorted by the same guards who had brought him in. But this time, he had a different feeling.

...

A few moments later

The building stood on a sloped corner of the southern main street, its wide storefront facing the steady stream of townsfolk and travelers trickling in from the outer gate.

Kael stared at the building for a long moment, taking in its full form.

"Not what you expected?" Officer Marrek asked from beside him.

Kael gave a slow shake of the head. "It’s... bigger."

The shop was massive—easily the size of a warehouse, with a stone foundation and thick timber walls. A row of dusty windows watched the street like tired eyes. The signage was long gone—only the iron brackets remained, rusted and drooping.

The door creaked open as one of the guards stepped forward and pushed. The hinges groaned in protest, and a stale draft whispered past them, dry and tinged with dust.

Its walls were lined with long, empty wooden shelves and a wide central floor that could have been used for anything from barrels to displays. Two staircases framed the far wall like a pair of shoulders, rising toward the second floor. One led to a loft-like balcony with wide windows, the other to a closed room that Kael guessed could be sleeping quarters.

It wasn’t ruined. But it had clearly been abandoned for years.

He walked slowly across the wood planks, boots thudding dully. They creaked, but didn’t complain. The place was old but solid.

"This was a shop?" he asked aloud to no one in particular. "Feels more like a damn guild hall."

"Mayor Halweir doesn’t do things halfway," Marrek said, arms crossed. "And yes. It belonged to a merchant guild once. They pulled out six years ago. Took what they could carry and left the rest."

Kael ran his fingers along a shelf, brushing away dust. "Six years, huh?"

"They used to sell maps, tools, preserved food, alchemical lamps. Adventurer stuff, mostly. However, since they were not able to earn much from this branch, they decided to leave."

Kael turned back, thoughtful. "I want to repurpose it. Make it something new."

Marrek raised a brow. "You have something in mind already?"

Kael hesitated, then nodded. "A market. Small-scale, but broad. Items from across regions. Soap, spices, preserved food, maybe even tools. Things people need daily. Not just adventurer gear."

Marrek’s brow furrowed, intrigued. "That’s... not a bad idea. But how will you stock it?"

Kael offered a wry smile. Trade secrets.

Because I can’t exactly say: I’m from another world where toothpaste comes in tubes and instant coffee is a thing.

Still, he was careful not to lie. He’d already sold Earth goods here and there—tiny things, mostly.

But now he was thinking bigger. Build something here. Not just a stall or a hustle—a place.

He walked slowly through the main floor—roughly the size of a small café back on Earth. There was room here for display counters, shelves, crates.

In the back, a stairwell led up to the second floor, which opened into two narrow rooms and a wide central chamber with high ceilings. The upper windows overlooked the street and the rooftops beyond. It was dusty but dry, and the structure seemed stable.

Not luxury. But livable.

He owned this now.

A thought crept in, quiet and weighty. I could stay here. Make something real.

"First step’s making this place presentable," Kael said, looking around. "And I have no idea how to do that."

"I might," Marrek replied. "You need a craftsman. A good one. But you don’t have to worry about that. City hall will cover all the costs of fixing this place up. You just give me the layout. Tell us what you want built."

...

Kael returned to the inn near sunset.

The common room buzzed with idle chatter, the usual mix of adventurers, travelers, and locals nursing cheap drinks.

As soon as he stepped inside, the innkeeper—and Alenia—spotted him.

"There you are!" Alenia said, eyebrows lifting. "We thought you were dead or worse."

The innkeeper wiped his hands on his apron. "What the hell happened? Guards come for you in the morning, no warning, no word. Thought you’d been dragged off for smuggling dragon eggs or something."

Kael forced a smile. "Ah, nothing that exciting. The mayor wanted to meet me. Gave me a business incentive, I guess you could say."

The innkeeper narrowed his eyes. "That’s why they took you like a criminal?"

"She’s... dramatic," Kael offered.

Alenia scoffed. "That’s bullshit. You’re hiding something."

He gave a vague shrug and started toward the stairs. "Let’s just say it worked out. I’ll take that as a win."

Alenia called after him, "You better not get us kicked out of this inn with your secret deals!"

Kael didn’t answer. Just gave a lazy wave and climbed the stairs.

...

Seris was waiting in the room, her expression hard to read.

She’d been worried.

"You’re back," she said, eyes scanning his face. "They didn’t lock you up?"

Kael shook his head. "Not quite."

Seris narrowed her eyes. "I thought they might charge you with the murder of the Red Morn."

Kael peeled off his coat and dropped onto the edge of the bed, groaning softly. "You don’t have to worry so much. Nobody mentioned it. Not once. Either they don’t know, or they’re pretending they don’t. But the important thing is that I got a huge store, and I also have the mayor’s support."

Seris blinked. "A store?"

"A full building. Used to be a guild shop. The city’s fixing it up for me."

"You own it?"

Kael nodded, then leaned back, hands behind his head. "It’s mine. All of it."