Alric found himself enduring a hug from Ruth. He had stayed at the inn for an extra two days while sorting out the daily necessities he would need for life at the warehouse. Ink needed to dry, seals needed to be stamped, and he had collected the keys from the merchants’ guild that morning.

  The inn was uncomfortable. To his mind it was dusty, the bed lumpy, and it made him itch, but he did not hate his time there. He liked the kids. Speaking of kids, he glanced at Tyke, who stood nearby leaning against a pillar. Tyke gave him the kind of nod one professional gives another, which was impressive given that Tyke was approximately nine. Alric had to snort to keep from laughing.

  “Don’t disappear,” Ruth said as she stepped away.

  Alric smiled, because it was easier than explaining that disappearing was, in a way, the point.

  “Well, I’m off to do weird mage stuff. Don’t forget, I’m not far, and you can come visit.” Both children nodded, apparently satisfied that this explained everything, and Alric turned to leave.

  Once outside the door, he turned toward the gate. He suddenly felt very lonely, and the city felt a little colder despite the summer heat.

  The smells still bothered him. There were many things that did not make sense. He felt horribly out of place, but options were limited. This city, Avengard, would have to do, whether it agreed with him or not.

  Reaching the boundary avenue, he turned right and headed toward the warehouse district. He managed to nearly be driven over by a wagon only twice, which he decided counted as progress. Reaching his warehouse, he noted a delivery waiting for him. One large barrel and three casks sat just beside the door, as if they had arrived and immediately regretted it. He knew many more would be coming soon.

  He took the keys, opened the larger loading entrance, and began wrestling the barrel inside. Only when he got it over the threshold did it occur to him that he could use his item box for this. Deciding to try it, he raised his hand and found it went in without issue. The item box was bizarre. He had no idea of its size or capacity, with no easy way to check, which suggested it was either infinite or waiting patiently for him to make a mistake. He shrugged. It certainly made life a bit easier.

  He walked into the warehouse space. He had inspected it before, but now he found himself unsure where the barrels should go. Closer to the well, perhaps, or in the open section. Both options felt equally temporary.

  The warehouse was shaped like a U, though the bottom was more stretched. In the centre of that U was his own well just outside, which had been the biggest selling point. The longest wing had absolutely nothing in it, and the space was incredibly dusty. The floor was packed earth. It was a double-storey building, and it felt like an oven inside. He opened every door he could, which helped very little but made him feel involved.

  The two shorter wings held numerous rustic shelves, but everything was coated in a thick layer of dust, the rafters included. Cleaning such a large space would be a nightmare. He sighed. If he could keep everything off the floor for now, he could put that off, which felt like a perfectly reasonable long-term strategy.

  He noted the silence. When he had first entered the city, the noise had overwhelmed him, but now he found himself missing the sounds of the inn. The warehouse included staff quarters, four rooms in total, along with what he considered a kitchen area built into the outer wall of one shorter wing. An office space sat opposite the kitchen. All the furniture was rustic and extremely simple, as if designed by someone who felt strongly that comfort encouraged laziness.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  The bed was nothing more than a frame with sturdy cloth draped across it in strips. He had replaced that. One of the rooms even had old hammocks, which he found interesting at first, until he realised they were faded with age and falling apart. Each bedroom was tiny by his standards, with no cupboards, only a bed and a side table. It would just fit a double bed, and only just, but Alric had settled for a single, a foot locker, and a large washbasin.

  Outside the warehouse was an outhouse. This bothered Alric a great deal, and he had not yet been brave enough to inspect it. He had made arrangements with the merchants’ guild to have it cleaned out, but he still was not brave enough to check it himself. He knew that moment would come, but for now he chose to treasure his ignorance while it remained uncontaminated.

  Deciding he did not need to commit to a final position for the barrels yet, he placed them along the wall in the empty section and began inspecting them carefully. He had many questions about them. Those would have to wait until tomorrow. He selected one cask and pulled it into his item box. For now, he needed to see a dwarf about some squiggly objects. He locked all the doors and left quietly, which felt unnecessary but polite, heading for the smithy.

  He made it there after getting lost and turning around a few times, but eventually recognised the sign. It bore an anvil and nothing more, which suggested confidence. He entered the workshop. Inside, the dwarf was busy sharpening what looked like a hatchet. Alric sighed with relief. When he had visited before, the dwarf had taken his order quickly and chased him out, shouting that coal cost money. Thankfully, the forge was not lit, which seemed to improve the dwarf’s mood considerably.

  The dwarf seemed satisfied, set the hatchet aside, and moved over to Alric. He pulled two large, very deep copper pots onto the counter, each fitted with forged handles.

  “This what ya wanted?” he said, pointing to them.

  These were what Alric had ordered when the forge was lit. He lifted the pots and turned them slowly, inspecting them. Somehow the dwarf had got it right, despite the vague instructions and bad drawings, which suggested either great skill or a stubborn refusal to admit confusion.

  “You really are the best, and yes, these are just what I needed. I need to order something else though,” Alric said. He stored the pots in his item box and retrieved a drawing, a tobacco pipe, and a cask. The dwarf raised a brow at this, but he had seen the item box before and seemed to have accepted it as one of life’s lesser annoyances. Alric also placed four silver coins near him, which the dwarf took and slipped into a pocket without counting, a gesture that carried more weight than the money itself.

  The dwarf peered at the drawing.

  Alric sighed. He knew there was a simpler way that old monasteries in his former world had used, but he did not know it well enough. “So, if you can imagine, a line like this,” Alric said, drawing an S on the page, sideways. “Except each end opens like a flower, like this.” He gestured with his hands opening. “And these openings will cover a cask hole here.” He indicated the bung. “What matters most is that this thing is hollow. No air can get in it, and it also needs to stand on one of the openings if I set it upright.”

  The dwarf studied the drawing sceptically, then the hole in the cask.

  “What do you need this for, lad?” he asked. He took up a charcoal stick, flipped the page over, and began redrawing it on the back with cleaner lines.

  Alric struggled to explain the idea of a liquid seal.

  “Tell me something,” he said. “I know this is strange, but if you thought of a tool that might improve your craft, would you not try to have it made?”

  The dwarf paused his drawing. “Lad, I’m a dwarf. Of course I would,” he said, brow raised, as if the question itself bordered on offensive.

  “All right. It’s just hard to explain how this works, but bring it over to my warehouse when it’s done, and I’ll show you,” Alric said.

  The dwarf nodded. “And you need this to make beer?” He glanced at the cask. Alric nodded.

  “Well, you should have said so, lad. As a dwarf, I’ve got something of an interest in beer,” he said, sliding the finished drawing across the counter. “And if you’re going to be improving the beer around here, I consider you my most important customer.”

  Alric laughed, and the dwarf grinned. “I promise, I’m definitely trying to improve the beer.”

  The dwarf extended a hand. “Stromni,” he said simply.

  Alric took it. “Alric.”

  They shook hands over a much better drawing of a liquid seal, one that would work for now.