Clay left the warehouse at a brisk walk. His strides were even his injured leg being supported by his staff, which clicked against the cobbled road as he made his way northwest. As he walked, he left the warehouses and trade shops of the eastern river side of town. In their place, simple but well cared for homes began to appear alongside grocers and shops that sold simple luxuries. As he kept walking, the houses got nicer, well-kept thatch replaced with clay shingles dyed green, and the shop continued to sell nicer and nicer goods.

  It was by no means the grandest Mainstreet Clay had ever walked, but it was one of the nicest. The roads were clear and clean, with many of the homes and shops competing to have the best window beds and gardens. People smiled at each other as they passed, and nobody bothered to keep a hand on their money as they walked.

  He let himself slow down and enjoy the walk. There wasn't any need for him to rush; he had completed the job faster than he had intended, so a few extra minutes didn't really matter. He took his time to look into the windows of the shops as he passed them. He could feel a few of the people watching him as he walked. While the people in his usual haunts around the city had grown used to his strange appearance, it would seem that wasn't the case everywhere.

  Years spent in more dangerous places that Pattson had honed his ability to read the attention being focused on him. And that was all it was. A bit of harmless curiosity that he allowed without mentioning. All the while, he made his way closer and closer to Timothy's home.

  When he finally made it to the home, he was impressed. It wasn't the largest home he had ever seen, nor was it made of the most expensive materials, but the two-story manor before him was one of the most beautiful. It was made from dark woods and light stones. The architecture was subtle and refined, not overly eye-catching, but the longer he looked, the more details he noticed. The garden around the building was in the full bloom of spring. Bright red and yellow flowers and neatly trimmed hedges. He took a moment to watch a gardener slowly wandering around the watering can in hand.

  He walked up to the large wooden door and knocked several times with his staff. There was a moment before the door opened to reveal a shorter-than-average man in a neat suit. He looked Clay over for a moment and then spoke, "You must be the Spellwright. Clay Trust is the name correct," his voice was smooth, and he spoke in a quick distinct syllabus as if each word was on a schedule.

  "That's right, and who might you be," Clay asked.

   "You may call me William; please do come in," he stepped aside and let clay into a well-appointed foyer, "If you would wait here a moment, I will go and inform master Timothy of your arrival."

  "Thank you, Willam."

  With that, the short man quickly turned and left the room. Clay busied himself, looking at the paintings hanging from the walls. They were of the delta, verdant green marshes, and deep still ponds. He was only able to enjoy them for a few moments before Timothy joined him in the room.

  Timothy was a tall, stoutly built man with darker skin that was not uncommon in the delta. His hair was done in shoulder-length braids with gold and silver ornaments worked into them. He had large, nearly black-brown eyes, and he kept a neatly trimmed beard. He wore loose clothing, mostly in light blues with black accents. He was a man that presented himself well.

  It was something that Clay respected about him. In his time as a wizard, he had met his share of the rich, and it wasn't hard to tell just by looking at them if they would be trouble or not. While Timothy was probably a shark when it came to negotiations with his peers, he was also the kind of merchant that understood the importance of good quality service and was more than happy to pay the price for it.

  That mentally showed not only in their deal but also in the man's home and appearance. For as lovely as both were, they had not let function go the wayside either. From what Clay was gathering, Timothy was a man that enjoyed the finer parts of life and was willing to pay well to have them.

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  "Clay, how are you," Timothy asked, flashing a white-toothed smile and shaking clays hand.

  "I'm good. Figured I would stop in and let you know the carts are done."

  "Really, that's wonderful. I was just about to have lunch. Would you like to join me," he asked, motioning deeper into the house.

  "Sure, if it isn't too much trouble," Clay said, already following.

  "No, it shouldn't be an issue in the slightest though we may have to wait a bit."

  "That's fine. I don't have any other jobs to get to today, and I have nothing but time."

  "Excellent, William will you come here for a moment," almost from no wear, the shorter butler was at Timothy's side in seconds, "Will you please inform the cooks that I will be having a guest over for lunch and that they should take as long as they need. We will be in the lounge if I am needed or whenever the food is done."

  "Of course, it will be done right away," William said before disappearing into the house.

  As Timothy led them through the home, he pointed out paintings, a few statues, and fascinating pieces of the architecture. One thing that Clay noticed was that there was no magic in the home. It shocked him until he remembered the bad reputation that last Spellwright had managed to curate. Still, it was strange to be in such a well-made home and not even see simple insulating and cleaning spells worked into the walls and floors. He tucked the thought away as something to bring up later.

  The lounge was lovely. Timothy gestured to one of the large stuffed leather chairs, and clay sat in it gratefully, setting the staff down beside him.

  "Wine," Timothy asked walking towards a small bar against the wall.

  "Sure, but not too much," Clay replied back.

  Timothy poured two glasses of red wine and handed one to Clay before sitting down in the chair next to him with a sigh. Clay loosed the scarf around his face and took a sip of the wine, careful not to let his teeth show as he did. While he was no expert on the subject, the wine was good, and it helped cut through the muggy air that still persisted in the home and relieved him of some of the tiredness his work had laid on him.

  "I must say, Clay, I am impressed I hadn't expected you until tomorrow at the earliest, and even then, you would be faster than the Spellwrights I have used in the past."

  "I'm a little surprised myself with how quickly the enchantments came back to me. It had been years since I had done them, but it seems that the years while trying to make enough money to continue my education paid off in this instance. After the first enchantment was laid, they just kept coming to me faster and faster," Clay said before taking another small sip of his wine.

  "I find that the habits of youth are hard to brush off. I still find myself loading the carts from time to time just to let the old back remember why I pay people to do it now," He said with a chuckle.

  Clay laughed softly before he spoke, "I suppose they do. You have a lovely home, Timothy. One of the finest I've ever visited."

  "I'm happy to hear it. I take a lot of pride in my home."

  "That being said," Clay said, and in response, he saw a slight shift in Timothy's stance. The man leaned forward slightly, and his eyes lost just a touch of their mirth. "I can not help but notice that there is no magic in your home."

  Timothy relaxed at those words, "You must understand, Clay, that your predecessor held neither your talent nor your professionalism. This home is important to me, and I would not have it besmirch with subpar work. Unfortunately, the only worthy Spellwright I had met is too old to make the journey here, and so the home has remained mundane."

  "I see. The more I learn about that man, the more I grow to dislike him. I do hope that my good work can begin to wash away the stain he has put on my profession's reputation in this town," Clay said as he thrummed his long fingers against the arm of the chair, appreciating the quality of the leather.

  "I think that it will. Though I think I will wait and see just how quality your work is before I allow you to start working on my home," Timothy said with a grin.

  "That's understandable, but I have no doubt that you will be impressed with my work. I am a very capable Spellwright."

  The conversation drifted off to different topics then. Mostly to do with the town. Timothy was well informed about the exciting small-town politics, and Clay was all too happy to listen. He learned that the Annual Lotus festival would be soon to celebrate the start of summer and that many of the towns folk had already started the dance of who would be going with who. It wasn't long before both their wine glasses were empty, and Willam came to take them to the dining room for lunch.