Greg was giving her that look again, as they closed up shop for the day. That judgy look that she hated, because he only offered his opinion when asked for it. “Greg, just say it. You don’t like what I did.”

“As your assistant, accountant, and occasional work friend–”

“Business partner, Greg, we’re so past that point,” she stated with an accented sigh. “Without you, I wouldn’t be even close to wiping that creepy stalker smile off of King Beardless’s face, and you know that.”

“I’m glad you agree with the assessment, then,” he added as he adjusted his tie, and straightened his vest. “Fiona, you have a habit of picking up strays. You think the world needs saving at every corner, and that by taking them under your wing, you can somehow better them. I am here to remind you that in doing so, you expose yourself to greater liability–”

“Greg, Kali snuck right past that locking system without even any effort, on the first try, and knew to check for magical wards. Lucky for us, Bonnie is not your average enchantress.” Fiona did ponder if this had been too bold a move--maybe she should have consulted them on this? "Bonnie I'm still a little unsure but, you're a super specialized mage, right?"

Bonnie was putting on her wide-brimmed hat with the cute cutouts for her pointed red ears when she turned and nodded. “Classes get a little weird for mages--theoretically with sufficient training, you can use any magic. If they broke down sub-classes, there would be too many to keep track of. Guess the gods must have thought of that one and were like ‘Nope, here are your choices’,” she laughed. “Still, thousands of them to pick from? It’s a lot. Enchantress builds on the mage class, for those who have the class already–either from birth, or from their Contracts. It’s a lot of the same things, just specialization.”

“Ah, gotcha.” Greg was still standing there at the till looking sour while counting receipts and writing records down. “Look, Kali beat our security on the first try, without even breaking a sweat. He’d countered against simple alarm spells. The kid has talent.”

“And will likely try to steal from us again, if past behavior is an indicator of future performance,” Greg bristled. “Fiona, we don’t have money growing on trees. It might seem like we are doing well, but we have expenses to keep this place running. On paper, we are fine, but realistically, this cumbersome tax could put us on a knife edge if we have a bad month.”

She gave him a dismissive hand wave. “Look, Kali knows he screwed up. He also didn’t count on me chasing him like a–well–”

“Manic elf with her head not screwed on straight?” Bonnie proposed with a sharpened smile. Fiona scowled at her in response. “Alright, it was a little fun. You are no stranger to danger. I just thought we put all that aside when we came here to open a shop.”

“Bah, I’m sure that’ll be a one-off. It’s not like a revenge-hungry dragon is lurking around, or some doom cult is preparing for the end of times." Fiona sighed as she rubbed at her temples and redirected to her more emotionless partner. “Look, Greg, I get it. I’m taking a possible risk.”

“Technically we all are,” he cautioned. “Fiona, as a business owner, you need to think about not just yourself, but your staff and partners as well. I am not comfortable with this notion of just bringing in the first thief you find, and then putting him in charge of security and other logistics!”

“Greg, there is always a method to my madness.” She grabbed her bag and her notes to bring home with them. “Why’s a kid stealing stuff? Because someone told him it was easy money. Why’s he not in school, trying to get a lucrative class? Come to think of it, who charges money for what should be public education? Barry’s letting that kid down,” she fumed.

“To be fair, Greybeard’s design,” Greg added while closing up the till, and writing down some notes on the counter. “Look, the point stands. Bringing this kid in under your wing–proverbially in this case–is a bad idea.”

“That’s another thing, since I haven’t been around a while. Why do you need classes for…well, classes?” she demanded. “I get the destined class thing. It’s so no one can get locked out by some prig with a god complex. It’s a counter to keep people from locking you out of living your life. But, why bother with gatekeeping at all? Shouldn’t anyone be able to be anything?”

“Fiona, some classes do require a certain subject matter expertise. Mages, in particular, as Bonnie can attest to,” Greg stated as he grabbed his bag, and they prepared to depart out the front door, with the wards lighting up on the displays behind them with a ghostly green light. Bonnie’s wards were better than any physical lock. “Would you want an inept as a mage, who flung his first fireball right at his feet?”

“Probably not,” she conceded. “You’re saying the class system, with a bunch of bureaucrats overseeing it, is the right way to go about it. But those guys get to pick literally, the course of your life! Why’s he trying to thieve around? To get to a good class, to get to a good…class! Damn, whoever came up with this setup didn’t have education in mind."

Greg took a more conciliatory tone. “Fiona, you’re new to the world, it is probably different from where you grew up. It's been this way for a long time,” Bonnie added as she put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “The gods above gave us this ability. Many people barely even make use of their class. Some don’t. They live perfectly suburban, normal lives.”

“Literal gods.” Fiona still hadn’t wrapped her head around that one, yet. “Look, from where I came from, there was like, one. Or, so people claimed. Never met them, but I have trouble fathoming that this whole getup wasn’t put in place to create some sinister scheme for who gets to live which way of life. That said, if a living god or goddess ever pays me a visit, I'll be sure--"

Is this the way you want this to end, Fiona?

She blinked. Where had that come from? She tried to focus on the wayward thought, but it was gone, now. But it wasn't her thought. What was it?

"The elf is spacing out, should we...pull an ear to reboot her?" Gregs words snapped her out of her focus. She scowled at him.

"Do it, and you get the hammer." Her worlds dripped acid, and he shrugged. Whatever that errant thought was, it had disappeared like a waking dream. "I uh...yeah, I get it. Your first class isn't the end if you get it wrong. But it should feel important, you know?"

“True. You can always pursue a class later, but that first one can define you in a negative way, if you let it.” Greg countered softly. She raised an eyebrow at that. Did Greg have a class he wasn't proud of? He moved on without elaborating. “You could go back to pick a proficiency in monster slaying. That class exists.”

“Yeah, I’d like our newly acquired security expert to have a calling of his choosing. Man, what’s with that, you have to lock a class by eighteen, and it’s definitive of your existence? I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to do for a career by my twenties! The merchant thing back then kind of fell in my lap. It was a thing of convenience, and then…I guess I made it more than that,” she trailed off. “Look, if I’ve made a bad call, I will not need to be told ‘I told you so, Fiona.’ I’ll know it between my pointy elf ears.”

“Cute pointy elf ears,” Bonnie corrected, and elicited a small laugh from her. “Greg, look, I think it's a rare day when Fiona's gut instincts are wrong. Give the kid a chance. I'm willing to, even though I got an unhealthy aerial tour of downtown Fiefdala.”

"I will, but I'm the one who has to fix things if it blows up in our face." His words had a little more bite than usual--best to change the subject, Fiona figured. "Now, getting back onto my original discussion, as a minor celebration of our first successful week, we'll go out to a place that you two might like. We should also grab Nick, Cita, and Jake. it’s fun. The kind of fun that I know Miss Swiftheart might enjoy,” he added with a smug look on his boyish face.

“Oh, you can’t just tease that out, where are you taking us, Mister Gregory ‘can’t party to save his life’ Lockheed?” she challenged him, and he chuckled in response.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“A place uptown. Surprisingly, it’s not well known, even given the food and…entertainment there.”

“Why do you say that in a weird way?” All she got from him in response was a small smile.

“Oh, you’ll see. I think this place miiight be up your alley. Consider it a small treat from me--and separate from this other item. Despite your daring to take risks, Miss Swiftheart, you have put us beyond our initial deficit costs by a small margin. That is not a feat that is doable sometimes for months, even with robust businesses,” he added with a reserved sound of…was that a content look on his face?

“We’re in the green? Hear that Bonnie, I hear the sound of cha-ching!” Fiona boasted with a grin, and gave her a high five.

“Yes, and to maintain that, we need to make some sound decisions. We’ll head out after tomorrow, sound good?” Greg proposed.

“You got it!” Bonnie answered with a cheery expression, and they headed out the door to go home for the evening.

----------------------------------------

Fiona was swooning at the idea that they were going net positive after only a week. A week! She knew how hard it was to recoup start-up costs, and she had spent a significant amount of her own money to bootstrap this operation. She wanted to spend money now they were in the green, but she held firm as she walked up the flight of stairs to her apartment.

Greg had warned her not to spend her money before it was even in the bank. And, given the banks’ prior status of trying to withhold her money as part of some suspected scheme by Barry, maybe it was time to be frugal and not take risks.

Then she saw the flyer in the mail for the fall fashion lineup and groaned. “Granny, why must you leave temptation in front of me?!” she wailed. She heard a soft chuckling in the hallway as Granny walked in, having just finished up at her workplace at around the same time.

“Oh, dear. Is this a side of Fiona I don’t know about? One with restraint?” Gemma teased, and set down her bag to trace the wards on her door in a rhythmic pattern. It was like a lock screen for a phone–except for an entire door, and she was pretty sure it changed every time.

The lock clicked open and Gemma peered at her, arms folded and looking smug. “It’s fall, and I love my fashions, too. Though I don’t have quite the need to go out as much anymore, the husband and I spend most weekends at home.”

“I know, but I love cute boots!” Fiona groaned, and frowned. “I mean my boots are cute, and they are so cozy. But seriously, there are boots and shoes for every occasion. If I don't have a shoe rack filled with shoes and nothing to wear for an occasion, I think I’m doing something wrong!”

“Oh dear. What a problem to be bequeathed with,” Gemma commented with a chuckle. “If you can’t get them all, get one.”

“That’s the problem. I got the new store, and we’re doing well, Greg tells me we’re in the green–and my impulse is to spend it! I’m in the gotta-have-it club!” She tapped the flyer showing various arcane footwear for emphasis. “Ice walker boots made out of soft elk skin! I’ll never slip and crack my tailbone again in the winter! Granny, you have not known pain until you’ve experienced a Northeast winter and slipped and cracked that stupid vestigial bone in your spine, that’s there to remind people they aren’t invincible!”

“Oh dear. That happened once?” she asked with concern, and hovered by the doorframe. Fiona loved the old aesthetic of the building–like something out of early 19th century America, brickwork, and large wooden trusswork, all with a light wood stain that brought warmth to the interior.

“Yep. I still remember that pain,” she shuddered. Even if that physical injury wasn’t part of her current body. She frowned–that question was there again, how had she woken up as an elf? This summoner must have been doing one hell of a charity job for her. Even Bonnie hadn’t come up with an answer. She gestured to Gemma, and tried to shove the thought away for later. “What was it like for you, growing up?”

“Poor. I grew up, and worked on a dairy farm,” she answered. “Well, physically poor, but heart-wise…my life was fulfilled. I had a loving family, growing up. My father, rest his soul, gave his everything to see us through winters. He always had a warm smile on him, and he never showed doubt–at least, when he thought we weren’t looking. And he loved to sing, along with Mother. Song is free, and endows richness upon us all,” Gemma breathed, and wore a dreamy expression on her weathered face.

Fiona smiled at that. And her mark kept fluttering on her wrist–what did that mean, exactly? Gemma wasn’t rich, but she did have three apartments to rent out of four in the building. Maybe she had been right. It was a richness of heart, indeed. She tucked her hair behind her ears before continuing. “I love singing. Though, still learning some tunes from around here.”

“You keep saying you’re not from here, but are you from the south with the Barnathi elves? You look like one, you know. The bright red hair,” Gemma smiled.

“Uh…hard to say. The parents said nothing about it,” she answered skillfully. A thought did come up–what if this wasn’t her body?

What if this was someone else's? She hoped Bonnie would be honest about that part, even if it were a remote possibility. Gemma must have seen the twist of her expression, eyes drooping a little. “I get it. You were orphaned? That’s what you were saying, in a roundabout way?”

“Well…let’s just say that I don’t know my origin,” she stated hesitantly. It was the closest she could come to telling Gemma. Darla knew, but she’d experienced her own ‘summoning’ before so she could relate, and of course, Bonnie and Greg knew this part. Maybe there was no risk in telling her.

But, not now. Maybe sometime later, when they were a little less busy. Fiona straightened up and hefted her bag back high on her shoulder. “Yeah. finding your place in the world can be tough. Though, I love my fashion. And cozy things. I just need to work hard at getting them. And not buy half the lineup,” she joked, and Gemma also joined in on the laughter.

Tucker was scratching at the door, annoyed that he couldn’t be part of the conversation until she opened the door, and he pushed past her to rub against Gemma’s hand dutifully.

“Traitor,” Fiona accused, and the cat let out a loud yawn in response. “Well, at any rate, have a good evening Gemma. We should do dinner or something, or you can drop by for lunch at the shop maybe!”

“I’d love that idea. Tucker, no, you can’t come in, you’re not stealing my couch, too,” Gemma scolded the cat, who let out a spark of energy as he sauntered back over to Fiona, for much-needed head scritches. “That cat…he’s quite the personality, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is. Speaking of, you loveable booger, let’s make dinner,” she stated to the cat, who let out an affirming meow. “Alright Gemma, I’ll see you tomorrow, g’night!”

“Night dear.” She heard the door click and walked into the smell of cinnamon in her apartment. She loved that scent. Doubly so for the fall season, and she flopped down on the dark-colored couch. Tucker instantly took up position on her lap–or her whole lower body, given his size, and pretended to nap.

“Hey, I still need to make dinner,” she reminded him. He put a paw lazily up to her lip almost, and she frowned–since when did cats do that? A thought crossed her mind. A very strange thought.

If she was brought to this world in another body–could that happen to other people? “Hey, Tucker, are you another isekaied person, trapped in a cat body?” she asked the black and blue striped feline.

She swore that she saw a glint of curiosity in his eyes before he yawned and rested his chin down on her leg. That seemed to be his final answer on the matter.

She sighed softly as she stroked the fur on his neck. “Well, if you are, cat, then I am, too. Man, that’s bugging me, Tucker. Granny says I look like the elves to the southern plains. Do you think that means something? I mean, I have enough on my plate, but…if I somehow hijacked someone else's body? That would be not cool, because I would never have wanted that. I would hate to be a woman who just bumped someone else’s existence out. Oh Fates, what if she’s in my body, screaming, but I can’t hear her? Utter fridge horror.”

Tucker looked up to her and meowed softly. She flopped back on the couch and gave the absurd idea a second thought. “Yeah, I’ve read too many manga and online web fiction. Mommy’s a little bit eccentric, Tucker.” He responded with a sound that was halfway between a purr…and someone snickering.

This cat was smarter than he let on.