“Thadan, are you sure about this?” Brakar eyed the towering shelves of cleaning supplies with growing concern. His friend had been methodically filling their shopping basket for the past twenty minutes, grabbing items with focused intensity usually seen in dungeon raids. “We haven’t even decided if we’re taking the lease yet.”

“Can’t hurt to be prepared,” Thadan replied, studying two different brands of floor polish with uncharacteristic concentration. “Besides, proper planning prevents poor performance, right?”

Brakar raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you care about proper planning?”

“I’m growing as a person.” Thadan tossed both bottles into the basket. “Speaking of growth opportunities, what do you think about window cleaning? Regular or extra strength?”

The general store stretched around them like a maze of practical possibilities. Brakar had passed it countless times on his way to The Six Spoons, but he’d never ventured inside before. Now he found himself oddly fascinated by the sheer variety of mundane items on display. The shelves reached nearly to the ceiling, packed with everything from basic household supplies to specialized cleaning tools he couldn’t even identify. The air carried a complex mixture of scents—soap, wood polish, fresh rope, and something vaguely metallic that reminded him of weapon oil.

“Extra strength,” he decided, watching Thadan add yet another item to their rapidly filling basket. “Those windows haven’t been cleaned in what looks like decades.” He paused, a thought occurring to him. “But shouldn’t we wait until after we’ve actually signed the lease?”

“Ah.” Thadan’s permanent grin flickered slightly. “About that.”

Something in his tone made Brakar’s stomach drop. “Thadan.”

“Yes, partner?”

“What did you do?”

Thadan suddenly became very interested in examining a display of mops. “Nothing drastic.”

“Thadan.”

“Just a small administrative detail, really.”

“Thadan.”

His friend finally turned to face him, still wearing that nervous grin. “I may have already signed the lease.”

The words hit Brakar like a physical blow. “You what?”

“Signed the lease. Yesterday. Before showing you the place.” Thadan’s words tumbled out faster now. “But only because it was such a good deal! And I knew you’d see the potential once you actually looked at it. Which you did!”

Brakar’s jaw worked silently for a moment. “You signed a lease. Without consulting me. For a shop we don’t even know what we’re going to do with.”

“When you say it like that, it sounds bad.”

“It is bad!”

“Is it though?” Thadan was already moving again, pulling items off shelves with renewed enthusiasm. “Think about it—now we’re committed! No more wavering or second-guessing. We have to make it work!”

“That’s not how business decisions are supposed to work!”

“Maybe not,” Thadan conceded, “but it’s how we work. Remember the griffon egg incident?”

“You mean when you accepted a contract to retrieve one without checking if it was mating season?”

“Exactly! We had to figure it out on the spot, and we did! This is just like that, except with less aerial combat and angry parent monsters.”

“We nearly died.”

“But we didn’t! And we learned valuable lessons about improvisation and teamwork.”

Brakar squeezed the top of his nose, feeling a familiar headache building. “This isn’t some dungeon raid we can just power through. It’s a business. With overhead. And taxes. And—” He gestured at their overflowing basket. “Expenses we can’t afford!”

“Minor details,” Thadan waved dismissively. “The important thing is...” He trailed off, his attention suddenly captured by something behind Brakar. “Oh. Oh. Now that’s interesting.”

Brakar turned to follow his friend’s gaze, already dreading whatever had caught his attention. To his surprise, it wasn’t anything obviously dangerous or expensive—just a desk. But what a desk it was.

The piece stood slightly apart from the store’s other furniture, its craftsmanship immediately apparent even to Brakar’s untrained eye. The wood had been worked with extraordinary care, each joint fitted so precisely it was almost invisible. The surface curved gently, like a leaf catching morning dew, while the legs descended in elegant spirals that somehow managed to look both organic and perfectly balanced.

“Is that...” Brakar squinted, recognition tickling at the back of his mind. “Those patterns look like lizardfolk work.”

“Good eye,” a new voice commented, making them both jump in surprise.

The speaker emerged from behind a nearby shelf—a tall lizardman whose copper-colored scales bore the telltale marks of long experience with woodworking. His craftsman’s clothes had been carefully modified to accommodate his tail, and despite his imposing size, he moved with surprising grace through the crowded aisles.

“Kip Rustworth,” he introduced himself with a slight bow. “I couldn’t help but notice your interest in the desk.”

“It’s beautiful work,” Thadan said, already circling the piece like a prospector who’d just found gold. “The way the grain flows through the curves... And these inlays along the edges...”

“Thank you,” Kip replied, his pleasure at the genuine appreciation evident in his voice. “It’s always gratifying when someone notices the details.”

Brakar watched with growing concern as Thadan ran a reverent hand along the desk’s surface. He recognized that look—it was the same one his friend got right before making impulse purchases that inevitably led to interesting times.

“How much?” Thadan asked, confirming Brakar’s fears.

“Ah.” Kip’s expression grew a bit apologetic. “I’m afraid I can’t actually sell it to you—I only made the piece. I don’t work here.”

“But it’s perfect!” Thadan protested. “It would look amazing in our shop! Right by the window, where the light would hit those curves just right...”

“Our theoretical shop,” Brakar interjected quickly. “Which we’re still just considering.”

Kip’s head tilted slightly. “Would this be the location at 8 Merchant’s End?”

Both men stared at him.

“I couldn’t help but overhear,” Kip explained, gesturing to his distinctly non-human ears. “The acoustics in here are quite interesting.”

Brakar shot Thadan a look that could have stripped paint. “We’re considering doing something at that location,” he said carefully, emphasizing the word ‘considering’ with enough force to make Thadan wince.

“Of course, of course.” Kip nodded sagely, though something in his tone suggested he wasn’t entirely convinced. “Well, should you decide you need any furniture—desks or otherwise—you know where to find me. Or rather, where to find my work.”

“Thank you,” Brakar said firmly, already steering Thadan back toward the cleaning supplies. “We’ll keep that in mind.”

“But—” Thadan started to protest.

“No desk.”

“What if—”

“No desk.”

They returned to their abandoned basket, which somehow looked even more overfull than before. Brakar picked it up with a grunt—apparently cleaning supplies were heavier than adventuring gear.

“We should probably get started on actually cleaning the place,” he said, pointedly ignoring Thadan’s longing glances back at the desk. “Since you’ve already committed us to it.”

“Right! Yes! Cleaning!” Thadan’s enthusiasm returned, though Brakar noticed he kept sneaking looks over his shoulder. “We’ll make it shine like a dragon’s hoard! Though you have to admit, that desk would look amazing in the front window...”

“No desk,” Brakar repeated, heading for the counter. “Let’s just pay for all this and get started. It’s going to be a long day.”

As they approached the counter, Brakar couldn’t shake the feeling that something about their interaction with Kip had been odd. The lizardfolk had seemed almost too interested in their plans—or lack thereof. But before he could pursue that thought, Thadan was already launching into an elaborate explanation of why they needed yet another type of polish, and Brakar’s attention was fully occupied with damage control.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

The morning sun had risen higher by the time they finally emerged from the store, laden with enough cleaning supplies to stock a small warehouse. Brakar adjusted his grip on the heavy bags, already dreading the walk to their newly-leased shop.

Their shop. The thought still felt strange, like wearing someone else’s boots. He glanced at Thadan, who was practically bouncing with excitement despite carrying twice as many bags.

“You signed the lease without telling me,” he said, more statement than question.

“I really did!” Thadan grinned. “And you’re really going to be my partner! Because deep down, under all that practical, sensible exterior, I know you’re just as curious as I am to see what happens next.”

Brakar started to argue, but stopped himself. Because the most infuriating thing about Thadan wasn’t his reckless decisions or his unshakeable optimism.

It was how often he was right.

“Let’s just go clean our shop,” Brakar sighed, already wondering what he was getting himself into. “Partner.”

****

“If we keep the inventory along this wall, we could fit double the shelving.”

“Assuming we figure out what we’re selling first.” A sharp clatter rang out as Thadan adjusted whatever contraption he was working with.

“Details.” Something rattled, followed by Thadan’s muffled curse. “How’s the ledger coming?”

“Slowly. Your handwriting isn’t helping.”

“What’s wrong with my handwriting?”

“The letter ‘a’ shouldn’t look like it’s trying to escape the page.”

Thadan emerged briefly, hair dusted with what looked suspiciously like rust. “I was in a hurry.”

“You wrote this yesterday.”

“I’m always in a hurry.” He disappeared back into the contraption. “It’s part of my charm.”

“Is that what we’re calling it now?”

A series of metallic clicks followed. “You know, you could help instead of sitting there judging my penmanship.”

“Someone has to keep track of how much you’re spending on ‘essential improvements.’”

“That door lock was essential!”

“It shoots sparks at people.”

“Exactly! Essential.”

Brakar shuffled through another stack of papers. “You know we can’t afford any more improvements this month, right? Or any month until we actually generate some coin.”

“This one’s different. More of an optimization, really.” A pause, followed by the sharp scrape of something being forcibly shifted. “Besides, it came with the building. I’m just making it better.”

Thadan vanished further into whatever he was working on, his legs sticking out at an improbable angle. More clanking followed, then a sound like something important coming loose.

“Need help?”

“Nope! All under control. Completely fine. Though, uh... what are your thoughts on water damage?”

“Thadan.”

“Just asking!”

Brakar slid off the counter, moving closer to inspect whatever disaster was unfolding. He found Thadan surrounded by parts.

Brakar watched with irritation as Thadan struggled with what had to be the simplest cleaning implement ever devised by mortal hands. The mop handle lay in pieces across the floor while his friend fumbled with the bucket’s wringer mechanism as if it were some ancient puzzle box.

“Are you sure this goes here?” Thadan held up what was clearly the mop head, examining it from various angles like a scholar studying a mysterious artifact. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cool breeze drifting through the shop’s shattered panes. “Because I’m thinking if we just—”

“It’s a mop, Thadan.” Brakar pressed his thumb and forefinger to his nose, counting slowly to ten. “You’ve seen people use them before. You’ve watched the tavern staff clean up after your drinking contests.”

“Yes, but that was different! They made it look easy.” Thadan attempted to attach the mop head, somehow managing to tangle the strings around both the handle and his own wrist. “These things are deceptively complex. Like a puzzle, but wet. And stringy.”

The shop’s interior seemed to mock their cleaning aspirations. Dust swirled in the hazy light filtering through the cracks, exposing every cobweb and water stain. The wooden floors, which may have been beautiful once, now bore the scars of years of neglect. Empty shelves lined the walls, their surfaces thick with grime so ancient that suggested small civilizations might have evolved there.

“And what about these?” Thadan had already abandoned the mop in favor of examining their collection of cleaning solutions. “Which one do we use first? This one says it’s for wood, but also stone, but not if the stone is marble, unless it’s Tuesday...” He squinted at the label. “Is it Tuesday?”

“It’s Saturday.” Brakar moved to rescue the mop before it could become even more tangled. “And we don’t need to worry about marble. There isn’t any marble in here.”

“Are you sure? That corner looks suspiciously marblesque.”

“That’s mold.”

“Ah.” Thadan brightened. “So we need the anti-mold solution! Which is...” He began rummaging through their supplies again. “The green bottle? No, wait, that’s for windows. The blue one? No, that’s for... actually, I’m not sure what that’s for.”

Something scratched inside the walls—probably rats, though after their recent adventure in the cistern, Brakar wasn’t taking anything for granted. He made a mental note to set some normal-sized traps later. Very normal-sized. For very normal-sized rats.

“Just pick a bottle,” he said, successfully untangling the mop strings. “Any bottle. They’ll all clean things. That’s literally their entire purpose.”

“But what if we use the wrong one? What if the floor polish reacts badly with the baseboards? What if—”

“Thadan.”

“Yes?”

“Cut it out.”

“Cut what out?”

“This.” Brakar gestured at the chaos of cleaning supplies surrounding them. “You’re not actually confused by how cleaning works. You’ve cleaned your weapons hundreds of times. You know how to maintain equipment. You’re just stalling.”

“I am not!” Thadan protested, though his grin took on a slightly guilty edge. “I’m being thorough! Professional! Like a proper businessman should be!”

“You’re being ridiculous.” Brakar assembled the mop with quick, efficient movements. “We need to clean this place, not just talk about cleaning it. Unless you want to explain to the landlord why their property value dropped even further after we moved in.”

“Fair point.” Thadan picked up a random bottle, then immediately set it down again. “But shouldn’t we make a plan first? Map out our cleaning strategy? Maybe draw up some diagrams?”

“The plan is to clean. The strategy is to use cleaning supplies. To clean things.” Brakar thrust the assembled mop into Thadan’s hands. “Start with the floors. I’ll tackle the windows. Try not to get tangled again.”

“Your faith in me is touching.” Thadan examined the mop as if expecting it to suddenly sprout teeth. “But are you sure we shouldn’t—”

The creak of floorboards from the front of the shop cut him off mid-sentence. Both men froze, years of adventuring instincts kicking in. Brakar’s hand went to where his staff usually rested, finding only a feather duster. Thadan had already shifted into a fighting stance, wielding the mop like a quarterstaff.

Footsteps approached—heavy ones, accompanied by the sound of something being dragged. Brakar’s mind raced through possibilities. Thugs? Rival merchants? The landlord coming to check on them? Or something worse—the scratching in the walls had gotten louder lately...

A familiar voice called out. “Hello? I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”

Kip Rustworth’s impressive frame filled the doorway, made even more imposing by the large object he was carefully maneuvering through it. Brakar blinked, his brain taking a moment to process what he was seeing.

It was the desk. The beautiful, impossibly well-crafted desk from the store.

“Mr. Rustworth?” Thadan lowered the mop, though he kept a suspicious grip on it. “What are you...?”

“Please, just Kip.” The lizardfolk guided the desk into the shop. “And I hope you don’t mind the intrusion. I thought perhaps your establishment could use a proper piece of furniture to start with.”

Brakar found his voice. “We can’t afford—”

“Oh, I’m not selling it.” Kip’s expression was hard to read, but his voice carried a warm note of amusement. “Consider it a welcome gift. A contribution to the neighborhood’s improvement, if you will.”

“But... why?” Thadan had completely forgotten about the mop now, letting it clatter to the floor.

Kip carefully positioned the desk near one of the windows, where the light caught its curves perfectly, just as Thadan predicted. “Let’s just say I have a good feeling about this venture of yours. Sometimes a place just needs the right people to bring it back to life.” He ran a scaled hand along the desk. “Besides, this piece... it never quite felt at home in that store. Too impersonal. But here? I think it fits.”

He wasn’t wrong. Despite the shop’s current state—or perhaps because of it—the desk seemed to anchor the space. Its organic curves and warm wood tones somehow made the rest of the room look less decrepit and more... promising.

“We can’t accept—” Brakar started, but Kip held up a hand.

“You can, and you will.” The lizardfolk’s voice was firm but kind. “Consider it an investment in the neighborhood’s future. And perhaps...” His tail swished slightly, an expression Brakar had learned to read as amusement. “Perhaps when you decide what kind of establishment this will be, you’ll remember where your first piece of furniture came from.”

Before either of them could protest further, Kip gave them a slight bow and headed for the door. He paused in the doorway, looking back over his shoulder. “Oh, and a piece of advice? That green bottle you were debating earlier? It’s actually for copper fixtures. The blue one is what you want for the floors.”

With that, he was gone, leaving Brakar and Thadan staring at the desk that had somehow materialized in their shop. Their actual shop, which they now apparently owned actual furniture for.

“Well,” Thadan said after a long moment. “That was...”

“Unexpected?”

“I was going to say ‘amazing,’ but yes, that too.” He approached the desk reverently, running a hand along its surface. “Do you think he planned this? From the moment he saw us in the store?”

“Probably.” Brakar picked up the blue bottle Kip had mentioned. “He seems like the type to play a long game.”

“Should we be worried about that?”

“Not sure.”

They both contemplated the desk for another moment. It really did look perfect there, catching the light just so, making the whole space feel more real somehow. More purposeful.

“We should start cleaning now,” Brakar said finally.

“Perhaps,” Thadan agreed, then grinned. “But first, don’t you think we should rearrange all our supplies on this magnificent new desk? Really break it in properly?”

“No.”

“But—”

“Floor first.” Brakar tossed him the blue bottle. “Then windows. Then maybe, if you actually help instead of just talking about helping, we can organize things on the desk.”

“You drive a hard bargain, partner.” Thadan retrieved the fallen mop, managing to keep it mostly untangled this time. “But I suppose that’s why I signed that lease without saying a word to you first.”

“That makes absolutely no sense.”

“Sure it does! You’re the practical one, I’m the visionary one. Together we make one competent businessman!”

“That’s not how business works.”

“How would you know? We’ve been businessmen for less than a day.”

Brakar began to say something, then thought better of it. Because really, what could he say to that? Instead, he turned his attention to the windows, pretending not to notice Thadan’s triumphant grin.

The scratching in the walls had gone quiet, as if whatever lived there was also contemplating their strange situation. Brakar reminded himself to set those traps soon. Very soon.

But first, they had a shop to clean. A real shop, with real furniture, even if they still had no idea what they were going to do with it.

One crisis at a time, Brakar thought, attacking a particularly stubborn patch of grime. And probably a lot more furniture than we bargained for.

Behind him, Thadan had managed to create more puddles than clean floor, but he was humming happily as he worked. Brakar surveyed the cluttered shop, and for a moment—just a moment—he could almost see what their shop might become.

Assuming, of course, that whatever was in the walls didn’t eat them first.