Chapter 250: The First Tenant

Construction of the new trade cells proceeded in manageable, deliberate stages.

Rask supplied the heavy structural pine from the High-Timber reserves. Dorvik and Orra handled the stone foundations, digging a deep drainage trench to route the spring runoff away from the timber footprint. A handful of loggers provided paid manual labor to raise the walls.

Because the mountain was not currently trying to freeze, flood, or slaughter them, there was no emergency rush. The crews actually stopped working at midday to take scheduled lunch breaks.

Standing on the porch, Elian watched the dwarven masons casually eat roasted roots in the sunshine. He found the lack of screaming urgency deeply suspicious.

Inside the taproom, Gerta dropped a heavy leather pouch of silver onto the Arbitration Table. She did not haggle over every copper piece, and she did not demand a dozen minor amendments to the lease. She simply paid her deposit.

Gerta became the first signed tenant of the Oaken Hearth trade cells.

Vane stood at the end of the table, outraged. "I proposed the building."

"You proposed renting one," Elian corrected.

Gerta pulled her signed lease across the table. "I brought money."

It was a difficult point to argue. Gerta secured the first cell to store repair iron, heavy axle pins, portable tools, stone drill bits, and dwarven fasteners. Without a masonry chimney, there was no active forge, but the secure cache allowed her to outfit passing wagons without hauling anvils up the pass every week.

Hemlock quickly secured the second cell, signing a lease for dry-food storage. Vane swallowed his pride and paid the deposit for the third cell, claiming the hardware space he had originally envisioned.

The fourth cell remained empty. Elian deliberately refused to fill it. A fully leased building meant zero flexibility when the next seasonal shift demanded space.

Serra stopped by the Copy Desk after reviewing a lumber manifest. She looked at the empty rectangle on the slate and asked Bram if High-Timber should claim it for excess resin storage.

Bram shook his massive head. "No."

The High-Timber camp preferred hauling their sealed barrels on scheduled market days. They did not need to expand their commercial footprint simply because the physical space existed. It was a clear demonstration that the logging crew managed its own independent rhythm, rather than automatically orbiting every decision Elian made.

When the heavy iron padlocks arrived, Elian distributed the keys to the three tenants. He retained one master key, locked in his own box, accessible only under the strict emergency lease terms of fire or flood. Heda opened her ledger and carefully logged the stamped serial numbers of every issued key.

Outside, Varg walked up to Gerta’s newly installed door.

The lieutenant planted her boots, braced her shoulder, and threw her entire weight violently against the timber to test the security.

Dorvik stood a few feet away, holding a mallet. He looked deeply offended.

Varg backed up and threw her weight into the door a second time. The thick pine held, but the upper iron hinge visibly flexed under the impact.

Dorvik became profoundly insulted. The dwarven mason immediately marched forward, shoved Varg out of the way, and began ripping the timber casing apart to reinforce the anchor bolts with heavy iron backing plates.

Bruna watched the violent stress test from the porch, wiping her hands on her apron. "Good thing you tested it before Vane filled it with expensive stock."

Vane stood three feet away from her. "I am standing right here."

Bruna turned her head. "Then you've learned something."

Back inside the taproom, Elian opened the master ledger. He took the heavy silver coins from the table and dropped them into his iron lockbox. He dipped his pen and wrote a new line item in the revenue column:

TRADE CELL RENT — GERTA.

The category looked strange written on the vellum. It was not survival money, emergency provisioning, or tavern food. It was pure, structural real estate income. Elian stared at the ink for a moment, then wrote the corresponding silver amount beside it.

Out in the muddy yard, Gerta pulled the heavy door shut, turned the lock with a loud mechanical click, and slipped the iron key securely into her pocket.