Fiona was at a loss. Just how much was this collection worth? The fact that Doug was wearing the biggest, toothiest grin in his tiny existence, told her one thing:

This dragon clearly had been planning a big-brain move. And he’d done it before he’d ever set claw in the city. “Mister Kierfraag, may I see you for a moment? I need to run something by you. In my office.”

“Yes, we need to discuss a few things. Such as paperwork,” Greg offered stiffly, but he was wearing possibly the most revealing smile she’d seen on him in a while, before he turned to Elaine. “I’ll have Darla fix you up with lunch. On the house, this won’t take but a moment.”

“Oh, take your time! It sounds like you may not have realized what you had on your hands!” Elaine beamed.

“This is why we brought in a consultant, he’s very familiar with such items. As you well know, famous artifacts, artists, and other curios do get replicated from time to time, and we take authenticity very seriously,” Greg offered, before tilting his head to the room in the back. “Kali, keep an eye on the kiosk?”

“You got it, Greg!” He clucked, having risen from his monitor station and quickly assumed the role. Fiona walked in a way that conveyed impatience, without actually saying it, and as soon as Greg and Doug were in the room, she clicked the door shut.

“You knew.” She felt that Doug had a plan, and this was his in. “You kept this in your back pocket without telling us.”

“Of course I did. You weren’t apt to trust me otherwise,” he snorted. "Most people see the La'teur's and think it's a replica. It is one of the most commonly replicated painting sets around. When a legit find like this comes up, it's often undiscovered for a while." Fiona tapped her foot patiently, while Doug let out a soft sigh. He knew that he evaded the question. “I also capitalized on an opportunity that intersects with several mutual interests. I have made many ‘big brain’ moves in my life, that's why I’ve always bounced back when Karlin takes a wrecking ball to things. Though I can’t predict his every move.”

“What’s your angle? No wait, let me guess, to preserve your ‘treasure’ in a place you know that it won’t disappear from!” She felt her ears twitching at this dragon’s power move.

“Well, yes. Also, do you have any idea how much you can make a month from leasing a collection of this caliber? Barry’s idiots have no idea what you had!” He looked proud of that statement, and folded his arms, leaning in. His snout practically touched the desk, due to his relative low stature. “Fiefdala’s arts and culture are one of its biggest selling points! Also gold, but that’s another topic. Tourism and cultural centers are big money!”

She tapped her foot impatiently, feeling a harumph building. “Did you tip off Elaine that this was here?”

“How could he? He just got into town, and she’s visited the shop at least a few times in the past week,” Greg pointed out. “You could just be honest about it, Douglas.”

The miniature dragon let out a soft sigh. “You’re right, I can. I held onto that collection and had occasional tours come through my lair–before the fiasco when Karlin came a-wrecking. Luckily my brother doesn’t have any appreciation for the finer arts, or he might have burned them where they were stored or sold them. I’d rather they be someplace safe, out of his hands, and where I can take in the sights as a visitor.”

“Did you actually meet La’teur?” Fiona stated with an edge to her voice. He nodded solemnly.

“I did. I knew she had talent, but didn't know all her history at the time. That first painting, the one in the Arkantine Mountains? I fibbed a bit. I commissioned it after I saw her talent on display when I was passing through the area as a guest. The Vernis family that housed her that winter were friends of mine. Still are. I was prepared to offer five hundred gold…but she only took about a hundred and fifty, for her supplies, time, and a few travel expenses.”

“She was known for her frugal living. I remember that from my classes,” Greg chimed in. “The question is, what do we charge for this? Technically it’s a lease, per month.”

Then, it hit her, as Fiona grinned. “And, the valuation of that treasure drops to zero if it’s used for humanitarian efforts, like this. Income derived from it, as long as it's used for business purposes, can be deductible on my tax forms.”

“Pfft. That’s a bonus,” Doug scoffed. “Mister Lockheed, I have a good feel for the inventory, and how much you make based on my business sense. With these line items on the forms…I do believe we can make a power move and pay off the remaining tax debt. And file a formal complaint that Miss Swiftheart was defrauded. Also, technically me, but I can’t go spreading my name around just yet.”

“Ugh. Just because you pulled this off, doesn’t mean we’re even yet.” Doug had outsmarted a lot of people just now, including her.

“Oh? How about a scene where Barry flips his shit when he realizes he’s about to lose control over you, with nothing to hang over your head?”

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She raised an eyebrow at that. “That puts you marginally closer. But you also tried to set me on fire. Once.”

“Oh get over yourself woman, if I wanted a flambé elf, it would have happened,” he stated with a twitch of his snout. She opened her mouth to retort, then thought better of it.

He had just helped her pull off a major victory against Barry. “So, you score a win for the store, but your ulterior motive is watching Barry squirm, isn’t it?”

“It’s a win for the arts, technically. The value of a collection–and the interest of people who love art–only grows when more pieces are in the hands of the proper curators. Also yes, I do enjoy watching that brat squirm,” he added with a predatory grin, and clapped his claws together. “Suck it, Barrimeth.”

“Once a dragon, always a dragon,” Greg stated deadpan.

“Admit it, you love the brilliance of it,” Doug retorted, unwilling to wipe the grin off his face. But this time, it was Fiona’s turn to have a bold move in mind. One that she would particularly enjoy.

“Hey Greg, remember that theoretical I gave you a couple of weeks ago? When I asked what ‘standard payment’ was to the tax office?”

Greg frowned. “I do. But, why would you ever want to do that?”

“Rough count, taking the leasing of the arts, and our predicted income, what’s our total installment payment look like?"

He furrowed his brow in response. "Roughly...a hundred and thirty thousand. I can't recall the exact number."

“First, let's get this sale underway, and set up the details. Greg, you’re on the numbers. Doug, keep smooth talking.” She pondered something else for a moment. “Does your power give you all that information that you spelled out?”

“I have to fish for it, sometimes. Items with history--changing hands, significant cultural impact, use in war–all leave their mark, some bigger than others. I do have to do proper research at times,” he admitted. “I’m not omniscient. But I do know a lot.”

Five minutes later, Fiona was shaking hands with Elaine, and Greg had drawn up an initial contract, that they would be in touch, and would work on the transportation of the collection. There were also a few other technical arrangements with the city. Fiona waved her out the door, the late afternoon sun slowly sinking–the snow squalls had faded earlier on, and the thin dusting of snow was scattering in the wind. But Elaine stopped by the steps, turned, and smiled at Fiona. “Got a second, before I go?”

“Sure, what’s up?” She held her business coat a little tighter against the bitter cold, and Elaine’s hair danced in the wind.

“You know, I couldn’t help but notice your associate seemed intimately familiar with those works. Even with what I know of a properly trained historian,” she stated, a crease of a smile emerging, and Fiona nodded.

“He’s…good at what he does.”

“Uh-huh.” She smiled faintly at that, hand rubbing along the side of her face–and not to push her hair away from her eyes. “Miss Swiftheart? If I might ask…a lot of people choose their careers, and classes, out of a passion. What is yours, exactly?”

“Selling stuff,” she shrugged. Elaine shook her head.

“I think it’s far deeper than that. What drives you?”

Why am I having this conversation? Why does she sound like my ex-girlfriend? Questions echoed in her head, like they hadn’t in a long time.

Fiona, why are you curating this run-down store for an old lady? Just go put in your twenty years and retire in the military.

Fiona, c’mon, it’s party time, you can skip out on this place, it’s dead on a Friday night!

Fiona, you need to choose between me, and this run down store that you seem dead-set on preserving, for a bunch of old people who have no appreciation for what you do!

She bit her lip gently as all those dead echoes ran through her mind. “I don’t know, Elaine. I picked a career of convenience to just…just…”

“Avoid having to make hard choices?” she suggested, that brightness fading from her expression. “You know, I’ve seen that look on people when I ask them that question. It’s not uncommon for people to freeze up like that. But, I can tell, you are dedicated to one thing, Miss Swiftheart.”

“What’s that, exactly? I am…pretty good at figuring out what people want, on that front,” she answered slowly. Elaine nodded.

“I take that back, I think you’re close to the mark…and with one difference, from my point of view. You’re good at uniting people, with the things and people they need in their life,” she finished with a polite nod, and a handshake. “Thank you, Miss Swiftheart. I look forward to seeing you again.”

“Same. Drop by anytime!” The cheer instantly returned to her, and she watched Elaine hail a steam automaton that was nearby, the driver already dismounting to let her in the passenger door.

“Oh, one more thing, Miss Swiftheart!” Elaine called out, hesitating at the open door with one hand on the frame.

“Okay, what’s up?” Please tell me you’re short a dinner date, and you have a reservation for two somewhere–

“I hope you find what you’re looking for. The hardest thing of all, for a merchant dealing in fortunes of heart? Is finding your own.”

The carriage door slammed closed, and Fiona was left standing by the steps, her mouth agape, and her arms slack from that closing line.

What the hell? Does she know?! She hadn’t been advertising her class, and she hoped it was just a fluke of circumstances. She glanced down at Wingding, currently doing figure eights with her wings on her wrist, and sending out a code message to her. “Wingding, did she see you?” her winged mark hesitated, before sending out a very cryptic message.

Sees beyond sight.

She stared at Wingding. “Girl, I think you know more things than I do. When did you get all grown up?”

“Uh…are you talking to your mark?”

She snapped her wrist to her side and tried to look composed when Doug, Bonnie, and Greg came out of the front door. Doug looked concerned by this. “Is that not a thing around here?” she asked casually, smiling anxiously.

“No, Fiona. It isn’t,” Greg replied dryly, before switching topics with a faint smile. “With the numbers we discussed, I believe it’s time to force Barry’s hand. Your ‘power move’ as you called it. Are you really going to do this?”

She clapped her hands together and grinned evilly, relishing in this moment of payback that was going on two months later. “Let me tell you something, Greg. There’s a little tradition from Earth that was ingrained in the culture. There is nothing more sweet when taking revenge on a total douchebag than weaponized pettiness,” she added with a slow cackle while rubbing her hands together.

“Oh, I so need to be there when you do this,” Doug smiled.

“Oh, you’ve earned the right to witness this one in person, on account of today. It’s gonna be epic.”