Trying to figure out how ‘well’ she was doing was still a bit of a mystery to Fiona as she charged through the day, with numerous guests coming through. Everyone was tasked to capacity. Business was moving fast, and they were slowly thinning the numbers of items. But they had plenty left to go compared to that horde of items and other fancy artistry work the dragon had accumulated.

Plus, a few effects she didn’t need anymore were up for sale, that maybe someone else could use. Those boots of cheetah speed? The leopard print was so last fall.

And she’d tripped and damn near broken her ankles in the things. That had been the least graceful thing she’d ever done.

Right now, her focus was on a beastkin man who only came up to her waist with rabbit-like ears, beady eyes, and a twitchy nose. What was the term they called him? She wanted to say a bunny-kin, but that was too on the nose. Harefolk? Whoever came up with the names, must have had a good laugh at someone’s expense. He was examining an item of interest to him.

“So, you’ve got a problem with moles,” she stated calmly. She would never say a customer was wrong until they were really wrong, but she could tell that sometimes, people had the wrong solution to the right problem. “Why do you need this water orb?”

“Well, see, the thing is, they have burrows. They go deep. They attack the harvest roots and kill them from below, so even I can’t get to them. I know, rabbits are supposed to make burrows!” he complained, and stroked one brown-furred ear gently. “But it’s tiring work, and we need practical solutions. These moles are as big as me!”

“Why didn’t you hire a mage to take care of it? Or a druid?” she pressed. She’d read the description of this device, it could generate water, and also remove water. But only standing water, and not ice, or mud, or blood, or any other fluids. “Mister Harrington,” she stated with a calm tone, knowing that pun was sitting right in front of her--she was going to start laughing if she thought of it too long. “I would demonstrate this orb, except I don’t want to make my store a swimming pool.”

“But, I need to know if it’s got enough volume to flood their burrows! The way I see it, no burrows, no problems! They’ll move on, or they’ll be eliminated, once I flood them!” he insisted. “Plus, using a fire mage, or poison, seems exceedingly unappealing. The moles do aerate the soil, and there is some benefit! But not at the expense of losing harvests!”

“Alright, but seriously, if this thing goes off, and you end up making your harvest field a lake, I don’t want it on my head. I think I know a better item for this!” She motioned for him to follow, with loping strides. It’s almost like every leg motion was an urge for him to hop. That must be quite difficult for day-to-day motions, she noted.

She opened the glass and metal display case, where she pulled out an item that might do the trick. “Here’s an item that might be a little less noxious.” It looked like a megaphone, but the cone was set with a small gem on one end, and a few buttons on it. “This thing emits the sound of the primal fear of whatever living being is close by to it. Great for vermin pests and people easily pranked. Bad against anyone with magical mind shrouds or a strong will. It is different for everyone. For moles, it might be a hawk, or tunnel worms. I'm gonna turn it down to the lowest setting, and aim it at you. Uh, do you have any heart conditions, anxiety, high blood pressure, or anything like that?”

“No,” Harrington stated, and looked unimpressed.

“You sure? Normally, I'd ask you to sign a waiver–”

“Miss Swiftheart, I have seen many winters. There is little that can scare me,” he rebuffed. “Out of curiosity, how do you know it works?”

She let out a pained smile. “Well, I tested it on myself, being the skeptic I am. Working retail has left me with ingrained business sense, and a primal fear of one phrase. It certainly delivered on that promise.”

She sucked in her breath, and drew close to the skeptic with a dreaded look on her face. “‘I want to see your manager.’ As soon as I heard that thing scream that out loud, I damn near pissed myself. Bonnie was in stitches. Then scolded me, for being a little too daring for my own good.”

“Good heavens,” he gasped, and made a little circle symbol on his chest. “Truly a terrifying thing to behold, in the realm of commerce.”

“Oooh, yeah. It froze my blood cold, even after hearing it so many times,” she sighed, and pointed at the thing casually. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I need to know it works,” he insisted. She pressed a button after winding the knob down to the minimum setting, and it made a low humming sound. She didn't hear anything, but Harrington's ears spiked to the heavens and he let out a scream. Bunnies should not scream, because it was utterly blood-curdling. It wasn't her primal fear, but it left a few people startled.

“Goodness! The wife! It sounded just like her!” the man gasped with quivering legs, and looked like he was ready to bound to the top of the display case. Fiona raised an eyebrow at that.

“Look, mister Harrington, your life, your business, but that's a very particular fear. I think this thing needs to be retested, I can't sell you a buggy product–”

“I'll take it.” Her eyes widened at the abrupt conclusion. “How much?”

“Six–five-fifty gold,” she stated with a strained smile. She could have gotten this guy for way more, but five hundred was right at Greg's assessment. “I can part with it for that.”

“Splendid! I'll take it to go, no need to fancy wrap it!” He wiped the sweat off his face. Was it flop sweat, on account of the floppy ears?

She couldn't help but laugh heartily at that as she shook his hand. “Ah, a pleasure doing business with you. I’ll ring you up in a second.”

Thus the day continued, with sales slowly starting to mount. She had a rough count, as the receipts kept flying while Greg transcribed everything on his arcanist notepad. It was the closest she was going to get to a tablet, short of a breakthrough in modern technology. But it was quite nifty to keep copies of everything they sold, for data analytics later.

Greg loved his numbers, for sure. She pondered if ever truly clocked off the job.

The crowd did thin a bit as the day went on, and the sun was lower on the horizon by the time she sat down for a break, the lake accented by the trees on the shoreline where picnics were held. She sat down at the kiosk and took a bite of still hot lunch that Laura had brought. The food had lost none of its potency, and she let out a sound of contentment.

“Mmmm. Greg, how are we doing over there?” she asked as he waved off another customer, and put in a few scribbles.

“Quite…good. I'll have to run the numbers, but given the inventory, and the sales to date…it's very solid. Only a couple of hours to go. I need to invest in better posture,” he said as he rubbed his back lightly.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Good shoes help,” she interjected. He raised an eyebrow at this. “Working retail, on my feet all day? Get good shoes, with support and the right level of cushioning. Bend your knees a bit. You look like a scarecrow, Greg.”

“I do not,” he protests without even showing a reaction. “Just a stiff knee.”

“Get that from archeology? Or were you more than just a delver, back in the day?” Fiona asked casually. He glanced her way, and frowned.

“What makes you think that?”

“The way you talk. You didn't always sit at a desk, Greg. Just like I didn't, either.” She took another hearty bite of the meal, and wished Laura could make this every day. “Want a bit?”

“I ate earlier. But, thank you.” He did lean back in the chair, just a little. “I took a bad fall during one trek. Hurt my knee. Arcane healing gets you most of the way, but it doesn't cure everything. It's fine, though. I noticed it only when I was standing for prolonged periods. What about you?” he asked.

She returns the gaze to him. “Well, I didn't run the shop beforehand. I worked behind a counter. Took a while to get my place, to be honest. But, I learned a lot of what I know from the middle-aged lady that ran the place. It was a…what’s the word, a country store? It sold produce, and other food items. But it also had various curiosities and artisan items that people loved. Fresh honey, preserves, local paintings of flora, and landscapes. I was the teenager, and early twenty-something, that kept that place running,” she said with a hum of contentment. “She reminded me of Granny, actually. Her name was Agatha.”

“You had someone to teach you?” he inquired.

“Yeah. I took knowledge wherever I could. I wasn’t ugly, but I was…different.” she glanced down at herself, and a tangle of red hair draped down past her eye that she shook away. “I also wasn’t as strong as this. And I tried.”

“So, natural abilities were lacking. You sharpened your mind,” he concluded.

“I did. I also learned that being on your feet all day requires adjustment, and good shoes.” She leaned on the counter and rubbed at a bit of dust, that had somehow been missed with a cloth from behind the counter. “I thought I noticed you walk with a bit of a stiff right leg, after a certain point of the day.”

“Well, that’s part of it,” he offered. “I did…try other careers, let’s just say.”

“Gonna tell me about it? I’ve known you for a bit, Greg.” He smiled faintly, and leaned back.

“Not quite there yet, Miss Swiftheart. Technically, as your partner, I prefer to insulate my personal life from my professional one. Nothing against you.”

“Greg, without you and Bonnie, I’d have a whole lot less than this.” she waved to the shop, and took note of new customers coming in by the main door. She stole a quick look his way. “Know what my mom always used to say? Don’t be a stranger.”

“Not sure I know the relevance,” he shrugged.

“What I’m saying is, it’s impossible to keep the two compartmentalized completely. Now, pay attention, Greg. I’m about to go make a sale,” she stated proudly and hopped to her feet, and checked to make sure she didn’t have any sauce on her lips. “Greetings, welcome to the emporium! How can I help?”

The heavy-set man glanced around, and a young boy with dark hair and a small cap on his head, no more than six or seven, looked at her with sparkly eyes. “Oh my, you’re pretty! I saw the shiny signs for the store, you’re the girl who beat up that big old dragon!”

“Uh, Greg, do I have admirers? That wasn’t part of the gig,” she callled out deadpan over her shoulder. He chuckled softly as he too, rose from his seat. The slight stiffness in his gait was gone, for the time being.

“It doesn’t come with any job, Miss Swiftheart, it’s something earned for acts of goodwill. Gendry, a pleasure,” he stated to the man’s surprise, who smirked faintly and adjusted his tie.

“Gregory, a pleasure. Been a while. I heard you were working with Miss Swiftheart, and I saw the note about the grand opening. Been busy?” he stated as he gazed around.

“Temporary lull. The crowd was massive this morning, though with it close to supper, it has faded just a bit.” As if on cue, a few customers came from the back rows, calling for assistance. “Fiona, this is Gendry, one of my prior clients. I trust your press shop is in good order?” he asked.

“I took your advice. I hired an extra guy to track news releases and run numbers. You were right, I couldn’t do it on my own.” His son hopped up and down excitedly.

“Dad gets to take me to the park more often!” he smiled with enthusiasm, and one missing tooth gave him a trademark grin. “Thank you so much Miss Swiftheart, for giving my dad good news to print!”

“Aw, it was nothing,” she dismissed with a gentle hand wave, but the boy’s energy could not be dissuaded.

“Yeah, it was! A lot more people came home safe, when you and the other adventurers put that baddie into a swamp and ruined his plans! Dad, can we get something? I want to be an adventurer!” the boy exclaimed, and his father laughed softly before patting him on his head gently.

“It’s a lot of work, Alvin. Picking a class so early?”

“It’s never too early!” he said with a thumb pointed at his chest. “I’ll be a great warrior, like Miss Swiftheart!”

“Well…” Gendry trailed off and smiled. “Do you have anything that would be age-appropriate?”

“Hmm.” She put a hand to her chin as she scanned the room, and walked to a shelf. For some reason, the mark was nudging her to go to this shelf. Her gaze lingered on a small ring–relatively inexpensive, and lightly enchanted. “This one. It’s a ring of featherfall. If you ever fall out of a treehouse or down a flight of stairs, or maybe if you’re playing with your friends and have an accident, it’ll make a giant cushion of feathers! Just mind the mess,” she added with a wink to the child’s father, who laughed.

“How much?”

“For this? Eh, a hundred and seventy-five gold. It’s common enough to enchant, and the material is a copper band, so pretty easy to find,” she reasoned. Greg nodded firmly.

“For comparable pieces, it’s a competitive price,” he added. “Just, don’t demonstrate it right now, Fiona?”

“Aw, how could I not?” she replied with a grin, and was already in motion with the ring on her finger. She vaulted up and over the counter, and leaped up to one of the arcane chandeliers to get some height. Greg instantly went pale, and started waving like this was a bad idea.

Which meant, it was totally a good idea. She tried to land right on her backside–and an explosion of feathers cushioned her landing. Everyone else covered in feathers that floated through the air. The boy giggled, and his father chuckled, and pulled a few feathers out of his hair. “Ta-daaa! Feather fall!” Fiona declared.

“That was awesome!” Alvin shouted with joy. “Dad, can I? Pleeease?” he called out persuasively.

“Do you make it a habit of demonstrating every product?” Greg groaned. But, Gendry interjected between laughs, before Fiona could give Greg her answer.

“Haha, you know something? I’ll take it. Now Alvin, remember, this has to be earned,” Gendry stated as he reached for his coin purse. “That means, keep the press room clear of papers, don’t play with the machinery, and make sure you keep the house clean, and the pets taken care of!”

“Yes, sir!” Alvin responded with a firm salute. Fiona beamed as they completed the transaction a few minutes later, and the boy and his father walked out.

“You could have charged more. The market price was two hundred,” Greg reminded her.

“Goodwill goes a long way, Greg. And it doesn’t always come right away,” she stated with a smile, and pulled a tuft of feathers out of her hair. “Guess I better go get the broom, then. Still worth it, though!”

“Your enthusiasm is infectious,” Greg sighed. But no shying away could hide the faint crease of a smirk on his face. With the evening approaching and the last customers attended to, they eventually moved to the closing.

It was dusk when they finished, with Gregory doing a count of the coins and gold vouchers, and checking the markings of each methodically. Bonnie also finished on her end, beaming. She was the one to break the ice. “Well, I think I did pretty well on the first day. Three enchantments–two minor, one moderate complexity, and orders for more. I just need a few materials to finish the orders." She tapped her arcanist pad and put in some notes. “What about you guys?”

“Based on the numbers…” Greg trailed off, and furrowed his brow. “We are...above target. I expected good first-day sales. We beat that number, by a large margin.”

“Don’t get all excited just yet! Greg, I told you to work on your face flexing exercises!” Fiona called out, and Greg tried to not smile. “Yes, that expression is called joy, you should wear it more, Greg! Bonnie has it down to a fine art by now.”

“Hah. I think you’re still the master, Fi,” she laughed. “Let’s lock up and go to McFly’s. I think this is cause for celebration!”

“Indeed, but with moderation.” Greg closed the till, and quickly arranged the gold and exchanges into a lockbox that only the most proficient arcane lockpickers would even have a chance of cracking. “It’s too late to run this to the bank, I’ll make a run first thing in the morning. Fiona, based on foot traffic, we will need some more hired hands.”

“That’s tomorrow's challenge,” she said as she skipped around, making sure the displays were locked. “We’ve got a date with some noodle bowls over at Jarl’s!”

It finally felt like a solid win, now. And as she closed up the door and locked it with Bonnie’s custom ward, she knew it was just the first day. There would be many more challenges ahead. But a solid start was a good sign.