Ethan woke to the quiet comfort of the Silver Thorn. Blankets and Pack were tangled together on the floor—Pixie curled beside him, Buster sprawled on his back, and Moose already stretching out a paw.
Across the room, Lyra slept in her own bed, arms wrapped around her tail, Amelia curled up close by. For a moment, Ethan just watched her. Lyra looked softer like this, face relaxed, hugging her tail—unexpectedly beautiful, and, he had to admit, kind of cute. He didn’t realize how long he’d been staring until he snapped himself out of it, feeling a little ridiculous.
He reached into his pouch, pulled out the platinum piece, and turned it over in his hand. It caught the dawn light, and he couldn’t help a quick, satisfied grin. All those days enchanting bits, selling gear at Ed’s shop, and even a little hazard pay from Gwenna for helping with the corruption had finally paid off.
Moose caught his eye and stood up. Across the room, Lyra stirred, blinking awake. Ethan cleared his throat. “I’m going to get breakfast. You want anything?”
Lyra stretched and yawned, her shirt sliding up just enough to expose her midriff. He couldn’t help but notice her toned stomach, and felt his face go hot. Lyra glanced over, noticed, and immediately turned a little red herself, tugging her shirt back down.
“Good morning,” she managed, suddenly much more focused on straightening her blankets. Ethan pretended to be busy with his pack, ears burning.
After a quick trip to the bathroom—silently grateful, as always, for whoever invented plumbing in this world—Ethan made his way downstairs. The common room at the Silver Thorn was already filling with morning chatter and the smell of fresh bread. He spotted his Pack at their usual spots: Pixie waving him over, Buster posted near the kitchen, and Moose giving a nod as Ethan passed.
He had plans for the day, but didn’t bother explaining everything up front. No sense getting the Pack’s hopes up in case something didn’t pan out. First, he was finally ready to buy the dimensional homestead anchor, and with any luck, he’d figure out how to get it set up at the Silver Thorn—ideally in his own room. He’d need to check with Mara or Jorrin first, just to make sure it wouldn’t interfere with any enchantments or cause trouble for the inn. Better to ask the Silverthorns than assume.
He also needed to stop by Durgan’s shop for supplies and hit the Guild to get information from Aldric and Mable about the city dungeon. If they were going to risk their necks, he wanted everyone prepared. The stronger and better equipped his group was, the less he had to worry about what could go wrong.
He decided to keep his plans to himself for now—more fun to make it a surprise than to spell everything out at breakfast. Once everyone had eaten and checked their gear, Ethan gathered the Pack and led the way toward the shop.
The city felt busier than usual, but the Pack slipped through the crowds without much trouble—Pixie darting ahead, Buster grumbling about missed snacks, Lyra and Amelia staying close, Moose always at Ethan’s side.
At the shop, Ethan paused just outside, checking his pouch one last time. The platinum piece was still there, solid and cool beneath his fingers. He pushed open the door; the hinges creaked, same as always. Inside, the air was cool and shadowed, shelves crowded with boxes, cabinets, and the soft glimmer of runes under glass.
The shopkeeper was at the counter, sorting ledgers. He looked up and did a double take, eyes flicking over Ethan and the full Pack trailing behind him. Last time, it had only been Ethan and Moose.
For a second, the shopkeeper looked taken aback. He pushed through and acknowledged Ethan, giving a somewhat forced smile. “Back again. What can I do for you this time?”
“I’m here for the dimensional homestead anchor,” Ethan said, skipping any small talk.
The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow, a dry little laugh slipping out. “The anchor, huh? Sure. You want to see the ledger again, or are you just window shopping with the whole crew today?”
Ethan didn’t flinch. “No joke. I’m here to buy it.”
He reached into his pouch and set the platinum piece on the counter.
The shopkeeper leaned forward, more out of habit than anything else—then froze as he realized what he was looking at. For a few seconds, he just stared, mouth dropping open. A sharp, squeaky noise escaped him, somewhere between a gasp and a squeal.
Pixie perked up. “I had a squeaky toy that made that noise once.”
Buster grinned. “Bet it didn’t look this surprised, though.”
The shopkeeper stared at Ethan, then the platinum piece, then the Pack, and back again. He tried to speak, but nothing came out except another short squeak. Even talking dogs apparently weren’t the weirdest thing to happen in his shop that morning.
Suddenly, the shock melted into pure joy. The shopkeeper whooped, lunged around the counter, and hugged Ethan hard enough to lift him off his feet. He kissed Ethan on both cheeks, Moose next, then Pixie—who shrieked and spun in a circle. He tried to hug Buster, who slipped away, and lunged toward Lyra, who barely had time to brace before he hugged her too. Amelia, startled, gave a squeak herself and hid behind Lyra’s legs.
“Platinum! Real platinum! I can’t believe it!” The shopkeeper bolted outside, spending five minutes hugging random passersby and shouting about retirement and luck. People stared; a few confused folks clapped. Pixie wagged her tail so hard she knocked over a small stack of boxes.
When he finally returned, still beaming, he started rummaging behind the counter. “Retirement bonuses!” he announced, setting trinkets and small boxes out on the countertop. “No sense in letting all this gather dust. Today calls for some extras.”
He handed Lyra a ring with a dramatic bow and another quick hug. Pixie got a shiny amulet, which she immediately brought over for Ethan to help clip to her collar before parading around the shop. Amelia received a matching amulet, but was too shy to step forward—Ethan coaxed her out gently and helped her put it on, her tail still half-tucked. Buster and Moose both got storage bands, which Ethan fastened for them. Moose wore his with calm pride; Buster immediately tried to see if his would hold snacks.
Buster remembered how Ethan could summon his sword straight into his hand from storage. He pestered Ethan into moving a handful of jerky into the band, then stood expectantly, focused. To everyone’s amusement, Buster managed to summon a piece of jerky directly into his mouth. He let out a triumphant bark—absolutely overjoyed and completely satisfied with his new prize.
Only after the gifts were handed out did the shopkeeper seem to remember himself. He straightened his vest, cleared his throat, and tried for a bit of dignity.
“Now, for the anchor itself. Come with me—this part’s a little more involved.”
He led them into the back room, where the air felt thicker, the faint buzz of old magic in every board. A plain wooden door stood in the far wall, set into a metal-banded base with thick anchor spikes sunk deep in the stone floor. At first glance, it looked like nothing special—just a heavy door with a chunky handle carved from Tiger Iron Jasper, brown and gold stripes layered with dark red and black, catching the light in shifting bands. The handle sat on a simple base, blending in until you really looked.
“Watch close,” the shopkeeper said. He pressed his thumbs into a subtle groove on the handle and twisted counterclockwise three times. There was a muted click, then a deeper grinding noise. The entire frame seemed to shudder, folding in on itself, the wood and metal collapsing into the handle. In moments, the door and base had vanished, leaving the “handle”—now clearly a gemlike artifact—resting in his hands.
Up close, the surface caught the light in shifting bands of brown, gold, red, and black—just like a giant tiger’s eye. Beneath that, faint runes flowed and rearranged themselves if you looked closely, and at the center, a steady pulse of mana glowed.
The shopkeeper carried the anchor back to the counter and set it down with both hands.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“This isn’t a toy,” he said, voice serious again. “Genius-level artifact. You don’t see many of these in a lifetime. I’ll release my binding, then you can make it yours.” He ran his fingers over the anchor. Then he demonstrated for Ethan how to unlock the anchor and open the hidden panel. “If you ever want someone else to have access, you just pop this marble out and have them add a drop of blood here too. Anyone bonded can operate the anchor.” He handed Ethan a clean cloth and pricking needle.
Ethan called the Pack over, explaining what needed to happen. Moose, Lyra, and Amelia each offered a paw or finger without fuss, letting Ethan prick them and add a drop of blood to the marble. The core glimmered faintly with each new mark.
Buster, on the other hand, made things difficult. He dug in his heels, wriggled, and refused to come anywhere near the needle—Ethan nearly had to wrestle him just to get a tiny drop. Pixie was worse. She zipped around the shop, weaving between shelves and under tables, practically impossible to catch. Buster, having already been cornered, made it his personal mission to help, barking at Pixie and herding her back toward Ethan.
In the end, it took both Ethan and Buster working together to finally pin Pixie long enough for a quick prick and a single, dramatic yelp. The marble glowed a little brighter, the swirling colors shifting and settling.
The shopkeeper closed the panel, twisted the handle, and stepped back with a satisfied nod. “All set. Remember—the anchor will only open for you or anyone else bonded to it. Nobody else can open it. Once you pick a spot and set it, the door stays anchored there until you move it again. After that, anyone can walk through, but only your Pack can open it.”
Lyra held her hand above the anchor, watching the shimmer of her appraisal. Her ears suddenly went bright red and she hunched her shoulders a little, eyes fixed on something only she could see.
Ethan noticed the shift right away. “What’s wrong? Did something break?”
She shook her head quickly, still not looking up. “No, it’s not broken. The anchor’s fine.”
He tried again, softer. “Is there something weird on the system readout?”
Lyra chewed her lip, clearly embarrassed. “It changed something about me. My name—it’s on the anchor now. And I just checked…it’s on my character sheet too.”
Ethan hesitated, then gave a small, understanding shrug. “If you don’t want to share, you don’t have to. But if it’s important, I’d like to know.”
She glanced at him—measuring, still pink around the ears—then, with a quick breath, flicked her fingers and made the window visible. “Just… don’t make it weird, okay?”
The system window hung in the air:
Dimensional Homestead Anchor
Type: Pocket Dimension Access Point
Soulbound: Ethan Cross, Lyra Cross, Moose Cross, Pixie Cross, Buster Cross, Amelia Cross
Function: Grants access to a personal, secure extradimensional space. Door can be anchored to a fixed location.
Cooldown: 19 hours, 93 minutes remaining
Placement: Not Currently Anchored
Ethan blinked, then grinned.
Pixie’s tail wagged so hard she nearly knocked over Amelia. “You’re a Cross now! It’s official! YOU’RE FAMILY!!!”
Lyra groaned, ears still red, but a small, proud smile tugged at her mouth. “Guess I am.”
The shopkeeper walked Ethan through the paperwork, pointing out where to sign and highlighting the warnings. “Once you anchor it somewhere, you can’t move it again right away. There’s a 20-hour cooldown every time you unbind and relocate it. So pick your spot carefully, and don’t treat it like luggage.”
When all the paperwork was done, the shopkeeper gave Ethan a genuine handshake. “You’ve just made my year. I’ll finally get to retire and let my son-in-law run the business. I’ve dreamed of this for a long time. This couldn’t have come at a better moment—my daughter’s expecting, and with him taking over, they’ll have steady income for my new grandchild.” The shopkeeper’s voice caught as his eyes started to tear up. “You’ve helped my family more than you know. Thank you again.”
After all was said and done, Ethan tucked the change away. The anchor had cost almost everything he’d saved. All he had left now was nine gold pieces and a few lower bits—a thin cushion, but enough to get the Pack ready for whatever came next.
Ethan quickly made his way back to the inn. Since he couldn’t store a dimensional item inside another dimensional item, the anchor had to sit in his regular bag—nothing fancy, just the old canvas satchel, which he gripped tighter than usual. No way was he risking a pickpocket with something this valuable.
On the way, he found himself turning the question over in his head. The first time he’d seen the anchor, he’d walked into its pocket world while still carrying his dimensional bags. That shouldn’t have been possible, not with most magic items—usually, one dimensional space inside another was a recipe for disaster. But this anchor’s world didn’t seem to care. Apparently, whatever magic it used was different. You could bring other dimensional items through the door with no trouble.
The second Ethan stepped through the door of the Silver Thorn, Mara spotted him from across the room and rushed over. Before he could react, she threw her arms around him in a tight, laughing hug.
“I can’t believe this happened—and it’s all you!” Mara beamed up at him, pride and excitement bright on her face.
Ethan blinked, still holding his bag. “What happened? What did I do?”
“A new class!” Mara all but glowed. “It just happened! All three of my classes merged—I’ve never heard of anything like it!”
She bounced on her toes, then held up her system window for Ethan to see.
[Status – Mara Silverthorn]
Class: Hearth & Home
Level: 29
She was nearly laughing with delight as she explained, “All those days baking for you—and everyone else—just to work off that silver piece. I guess the system decided it was enough to make it official. Yesterday it offered me Baker as a full class, and then this morning, before I could even get used to that, it merged everything—Innkeeper, Baker, and Fire Mage. Now I’m Hearth & Home. All of it, together.
“And honestly, having a Baker’s assistant who actually has a baking class probably nudged things along. That’s your fault too, you know—if you hadn’t kept showing up hungry and brought extra mouths, and if you hadn’t convinced me to hire a proper assistant, I might still just be kneading dough on my own.”
She grinned at him. “Everything I bake gives minor bonuses now, and people who stay at the inn get buffs just for sleeping under this roof. My new skills are amazing. I can’t wait to try them out.”
She laughed, hands to her cheeks in delight. “I’ve never heard of anyone getting a class like this before.”
Ethan couldn’t help but grin, genuinely happy for her. “Glad this all worked out for you,” he said. “But, uh, I also had something I wanted to talk to you about.”
He glanced around, lowering his voice a little. “I sort of… picked up a dimensional anchor. With an actual pocket world inside it. I was hoping I could set it up in my room?”
Mara’s eyes went comically wide. For a second, she just stared at him, then spun around, calling, “Jorrin! Jorrin, you need to hear this!”
Jorrin hurried in, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “What’s going on? Did you hear the news—”
Mara hushed him, herding Ethan, Jorrin, and the Pack into their private quarters. Once the door was closed, she planted her hands on her hips and looked at Ethan expectantly.
“Alright,” she said, “explain what’s going on.”
Ethan didn’t bother launching into a complicated explanation. He set the dimensional anchor gently on the table. “It’s easier if you see it for yourself. Lyra, can you show them the system description?”
Lyra nodded, stepping forward. She focused, and her appraisal shimmered into being. With a thought, she made the system window visible to Mara and Jorrin.
Dimensional Homestead Anchor
Type: Pocket Dimension Access Point
Soulbound: Ethan Cross, Lyra Cross, Moose Cross, Pixie Cross, Buster Cross, Amelia Cross
Function: Grants access to a personal, secure extradimensional space. Door can be anchored to a fixed location.
Placement: Not Currently Anchored
Appraisal Cooldown: 18 hours, 71 minutes remaining
Jorrin studied the anchor for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t think it’ll interfere with our wards. Shouldn’t make any difference at all.”
Mara nodded, still looking the anchor over. “If anything feels off, we’ll let you know. But it sounds like it’ll be fine.”
She looked back at Ethan, her smile turning almost giddy. “And thank you again, truly. Merging gave me three levels to my new main class, and the merged class looks amazing. I still can’t believe it—I can finally start progressing again, not just my main level. Now I can look for another trade class. This is the best thing that’s happened in ages.”
Ethan relaxed, the last bit of tension fading. “I’m glad it worked out for you,” he said honestly. “You deserve it.”
Ethan glanced down at the anchor, then back at Mara and Jorrin. “Is there a safe place I can keep this until I’m ready to install it? I still need to get out and grab supplies for the dungeon run I’m planning.”
Jorrin gave a thoughtful nod. “We can lock it in the storeroom for you—nothing goes missing from there. You’ll have the only key besides us.”
Mara added, “And we’ll keep an eye on it. You go do what you need to do, Ethan. The anchor will be safe here.”
With the anchor safely locked away, Ethan gathered the Pack and set out from the Silver Thorn. The morning crowds had thinned a little, and the group made good time weaving through the city streets.
