The Demon whistled cheerfully as he meandered through the streets, almost cheerfully as he took in the sights and sounds once more. A look of calm crossed his face as his feet tapped across the cobblestones, his cane twirling in the air next to him.

Once again he'd forgone the cloak, far too stuffy for a day like this. So much warmth and cheer. Far cry from what he was used to. He rounded a corner and found the town hall, an old building. Made of brown brick and gray mortar, its aging frame betrayed the noble establishment and its traditions. And to that end, he would pay his respects.

Entering the building he was treated to the site of simple smooth polished stone floors, of a marbled grey color, some common type of granite look-alike, A shale rock perhaps. unvarnished wood-paneled booths for the tellers and receptionist, and noted vaulted ceiling of familiar cathedral style. Notably muted as compared to some others he'd seen, Orthodoxy style, not quite Russian, perhaps Turkish. Interesting.

A tired-looking young woman raised her head scanned the lobby, spotting him she straightened up and cleared her throat.

"May I help you Sir?" she asked cordially, He smiled in return causing her to flinch slightly.

"Yes, I'm looking to buy a new home within the city, and of course to sell the old one," he asked politely, she gave a hesitant smile back and turned to her companion in the next booth over, after some heated whispering, she returned and delivered her news.

"We-We have a few houses for sale, you may check the listings for offers over there on the large board labeled Estate Holdings, and place an offer with these forms here," she said, sliding a small bundle of papers across the table for his preview.

"Thank you, madam, Now A bench to seat me." she pointed past him towards a rough-looking long bench next to the door where he'd entered.

"Thank you." And he went upon his way. Leaving the girl strangely in a flutter.

He sat down and started sorting through the offers, glancing up to find the Listings board, A massive chalk Slate mounted above and to the side of the Teller booths, where a little man with a big stick was furiously writing long numbers and jumbled letters on the board.

He'd been expecting a small crowd to be gathered, but it was all strangely empty today, he must have just missed the rush. He checked his pocket watch, it was about lunchtime. All the usual criminals must be out enjoying a meal at the many restaurants scattered about town.

That suited him just fine, less noise to crowd out.

The listings were, a bit dry, but some of them were delectable prizes. He noted one or two and then scanned the board for their indications, dismissed half of them due to price and then again due to outrageous counteroffers. Scanning the lines again, he spotted a few that he'd missed the first time, checked them. looked up noted their positions on the board and found them agreeable.

It came down to Three listings in particular. An offer for a townhouse on Marins St, Two for Boilsknife Ave, and a final house for sale in Cobbler's Venue Square. All lovely places, mostly, but the dimensions described in the papers made it clear that any one of them would be a vast improvement.

Multiple rooms, A dedicated Bedroom, some of them had basements even. The property in Cobblers Square was listed as a four-story ad for a mere joke of an asking price.

And since these were all land transactions, Morgage payments had yet to be invented. Huzzah!

But he also remembered caution, he'd been on the receiving end of many office pranks and elaborate schemes to know this motto. Never Trust a Beauracrat, Especially From your own Office.

He set aside the papers and did a mental tally of what it would cost to move into each one. Marins was immediately disqualified due to distance. He could make Boilsknife on foot if he had to, but would most likely end in hiring someone. Cobblers Square was a tricky one, A four-story house in this age was rare to find on the market. But he could meet the asking price and still have some left for a movers fee.

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

Then he chuckled to himself, Movers fee, Ha. As if he would stoop to that. He only planned to carry the various books and the flame from the fireplace. And maybe that nice big chair.

He had tricks for that, it would take some time to prepare. It's not like he could summon things purely out of thin air! He wasn't the Almighty after all. No, all he could do was some very clever pocket tricks that made things appear to come from nowhere.

The Teacart, for example, was not appearing or disappearing into a puff of smoke, but rather passing through a veil of sorts into the aforementioned pocket, like a side room or behind a hidden panel. It stayed the same for the most part when he put it there, with no changes to its mass or content.

To be fair it was a useful trick. and he was lucky to have it as a feather in his cap, but for it to be useful in this case, he would first have to Claim the space as an extension of his Domain in the Infernal Realm.

His thought then stopped as he chuckled, perhaps he'd gotten ahead of himself. He still had to inspect these localities and then buy one. He could worry about the logistics of Infernal Magic's later.

As for right now...

He signed for the three offers he liked best, agreed to the down payment and administration fees, and began making plans to seek out each location before placing an offer.

He then felt the Cat was up to something, as there was a distinct tugging at the back of his mind. He ignored it, He couldn't spend all day chasing him around, he had other things to do. Namely buy a house, and put his so-called "revenge" together.

The Devil snickered, such a Drama queen. it's like he thought life would be this grand opera with a cast and a script. Like he was some grand Magician on some epic quest, filled with faux danger and garish costumes. When in fact he was a sapid little cheat who hoarded power simply for having it.

Fool, power is useless without purpose. That's what makes it Powerful! The Ability to Act!. He shook his head as he left.

He was feeling peckish all of a sudden and decided to stop at an apple cart on his way back. He'd noted the addresses of each of the houses and decided not to wait and inspect them himself while he had the time. He checked his watch, saw what time it was, and calculated that he might be able to view two of them within the day, before having to stop and receive this week's payment from the counterfeit ring.

Electing the two closest candidates, the Boilsknife pair, he set off to see what could be seen. The walk was short and pleasant, the street was clean and well kept. There was just one problem.

The two houses were not only the same house, written twice with a slightly altered address. No scratch that. They never existed, to begin with.

Or at least in the capacity of official living space.

The building in front of him that had been listed as a two-story, double bedroom and ground floor kitchen with storage, was in fact. A Textile Factory.

Not a modern industrial factory for sure, merely a room full of spinsters working tirelessly from sun up to sundown in a single, very large room. He questioned the owners about the listings and was none too surprised that the Forman knew exactly what, or rather who had done this.

"That Simmon's Bastard!, He's been trying to squeeze me oughta Business for Years! Even though we're Cousins! I'll bet this is his idea of a joke, putting me Factory up for sale on the like that. He doesn't even own the place! That's Fraud!" the Forman shouted.

"Indeed, Well. I see you have this problem well in hand. I'll leave it between, er, Family, to sort out." he replied rather meekly. It was never a good Idea to engrain yourself into complex affairs, especially when it came to Families.

"I Appreciate that Good Sir, And for the trouble, I'll let you in on something." The Foreman leaned close and whispered in his Ear. "If you're thinking of buying a house, steer clear of the river, or Basements. The city's been having trouble with the Rats again. The stench is hellish."

He grimaced, that would bring the property value down. so he pressed for specific's "Would that be closer to Marin St. or Cobblers Square?" The foreman stroked his chin.

"Marin St. but it's cleaner up there so it might not be so bad. it's only real ruff down by the Dye makers Quarter and the slaughterhouses. But Marin should be fine. As for Cobblers Square." he shrugged

"It's a nice enough place, but never had reason to go there myself. so you'll have to judge for yourself when you get there."

He nodded along, Reasonable enough. "Thank you very much, Good hunting to you," he said as he strolled off.

"Thanks, I sure will." the laugh he gave afterward gave the demon a familiar sinister feeling. He was confident the Foreman knew what he was doing. And would make the best of this, opportunity.

He continued towards the other two houses on his list. He would have time to view them all in a day after all. He glanced at his watch again and frowned. Well, perhaps not all of them. A pity, he thought he was making good time.

Ugh, Mortal time was so fast.