First, we offered a trade-in deal to meet the demand for materials. If someone brought in 3 times the weight of the new article of clothing in a similar fabric. They would get the clothes and a fitting free of charge.

The influx of business meant that other family members had to help out. Almost sensing the family's upcoming windfall, Katherine had sobered up and started helping sell clothing in the family's store. Even Colter and Jessica began washing the refurbished fabric after I broke them down to their base materials.

Lastly was a substantial price increase for any customers not from Hearston. I first questioned this but saw Deanne's suggestion's value within a week. The people of Hearston had little money, but dotted throughout were several small craftsmen. Who offered furniture and repairs at a substantial discount to her once decrepit shop.

And these craftsmen were happy to do so because Hearston as a whole was being born again. The town's baker, blacksmith, and even beggars had a serious growth in income over the weeks since my involvement. Even the inn had successfully reopened due to the influx of visitors solely for wardrobe procurement from The General Muir.

"Thanks again for the trade, Marshall," I said, holding several bundles of cloth and produce.

"After the dress you made for my daughter, Mersault, I owe you. I don't think I've ever seen her happier."

We stopped while walking back from Marshall's farm. We noticed a large gathering outside of The General Muir. The majority was townsfolk, but out front was a large cart emblazoned with the sigil of Salinel on flags and engraved in the wood. Two armored guards stood on either side while the crowd gave them a wide berth.

"Woah, quite the commotion."

"Salinel guards?" I questioned. "What are they doing here?

Information unavailable.

I worried the guard had tracked me to the family's shop for a moment. I could have implicated them unknowingly as they helped a wanted criminal from the larger city. I considered turning myself in and defending their innocence. Slavery was an awful concept, but condemning an innocent family who tried to help me was far worse.

As I got closer to the cart, I realized how far off my assumptions were. These guards weren't dressed like the one I interacted with inside the larger city's gates. Instead of studded leather, they wore heavy plate. The symbol of Salinel, curving lines forming a tree, was embedded with emeralds and faint traces of gold. These weren't the guards you'd send to track down a criminal; they were all flash.

I confidently walked to the shop and tried to enter without acknowledging the guard's presence.

"Wait," the guard threw his plated arm against my chest, stopping me in my tracks. "The shop is off limits while the Attendant is inside."

"I work here," I replied, gesturing to the cloth bundles filling my arms.

He was bigger than I thought, having gauged him previously from a distance. His arm had no give as he halted me with it; it was like walking into a steel beam. Maybe these guards were more than just flash.

"I don't care. You can wait until the Attendant comes out, like everyone else."

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"Hey!" A voice called out from the crowd. "Don't you know who you're talking to, you big lug! That's the Wizard of Hearston!"

He looked from the crowd and back to me with a quizzical look. "Is that true?"

"Well, I'm not a-" I started but became suddenly unconcerned with semantics. "Yes, that's me."

"I'm sorry, sir." He dropped his arm almost in fear that I would liquefy it. "The Attendant will want to see you right away. Please go inside."

I simply nodded at the chrome giant and walked past, hoping he didn't decide to scruff me like the last Salinel guard I came across. Fortunately, he abstained, and I was allowed entry. Unfortunately, there were two more guards inside who both immediately reached for their weapons as I entered.

"Settle down, boys. He works here." Deanne called out from a backroom in the shop.

The two relaxed their grips and turned back to attention. As I entered the backroom, I saw Deanne pacing the room with flushed cheeks and frazzled hair. A shorter man sat in the only chair in the room, picking nonchalantly at a bowl of mixed nuts. His clothes looked like extravagant silk and finely woven wool spun together then dyed to create a beautiful balance of rust and multiple shades of bright blues. He was definitely someone powerful, not in stature per se, but definitely in influence.

"Mersault, tell this idiot that we're not moving to Salinel."

"You should really try thinking about the big picture." The Attendant offered.

"Which is?" I asked.

He turned from Deanne as if I had materialized out of thin air.

"The honor, the business," he stopped to put another handful of mixed nuts into his mouth. "The privilege."

"You lack any honor." Deanne spat out, clearly frazzled.

The Attendant rose to his feet as the guards braced themselves with hands on their hilts.

"Hold on now, everybody, calm down," I said, setting a hand on Deanne's shoulder. "Can we have a day or two to talk about this?"

"Who are you to make requests of me?"

"He's my partner," Deanne replied. "And the one making the clothes you want so badly."

"Oh, Mersault, the Wizard of Hearston, I've heard so much about you." The Attendant's aggression swapped very quickly to fascination. "I thought you'd be taller."

"Well, I'm not a Wizard, so don't believe everything you hear."

"Right," he replied, sounding unconvinced.

"So, a day or two to talk it over?"

The Attendant paused for a second, looking over at his guards with hands still on their hilts.

"Fine. You have until tomorrow to convince your 'partner' of the move."

"Or?"

The Attendant smiled. "See you tomorrow, Wizard of Hearston."

The guards followed their portly master out of the shop. Only once they left the building did I drop whatever sense of composure I was clinging to.

"What the hell was that?!" I demanded of Deanne.

"The Salinel Assembly wants us to move out of Hearston and into their city."

I followed Deanne upstairs to the family's apartment. It was a modest 3-bedroom apartment with an attic space I converted into an extra bedroom. Everything was wooden, like all of the buildings in Hearston. The attic was tight but had everything I needed, ignoring the stray bird or insect that tried to share the space with me.

She entered her kitchen and grabbed some semi-clean glasses out of a cabinet. Pulled up a chair and grabbed a bottle of liquid off of the topside of a lower support beam.

"Why not move? There's probably more money for us there."

"Hearston is my home. It's where I raised my daughters and met their father. I was born here, and I hope it's where I die."

"Okay, so Salinel is a no-go. No big deal, but is saying no even an option for us?"

"Did it seem like an option?" She slid a glass of clear liquid towards me.

"Not really," I pulled the glass up to my mouth and was overcome by the smell of jet fuel.

I think my distaste might have been noticeable as she laughed. As much as I didn't want to be laughed at, It was nice to see a change in her demeanor, as brief as it was.

"Maybe we could offer them a deal?" I asked.

"What kind of deal?"

"Not sure, maybe custom clothing, exclusive designs, but only if we're allowed to work out of Hearston."

"Maybe." She sounded unsure and took a long pull from her drink.

"What other options do we have?"

"None, I suppose."

"How about I talk to them tomorrow?" I asked. "It seems like it might be a sore subject for you."

She downed her glass of incredibly flammable liquid and nodded her head slowly.

"Thank you."

"It's just a conversation. I can't guarantee they'll say yes."

"No, thank you for helping me, my family."

"We helped each other. Plain and simple."

She looked back at me through tear-filled eyes that looked grateful but scared.