Chapter 76: Perfect Location of the Shop

"Hey, piggy!" Tibbar called out loudly, slamming his furry paw onto the counter.

The boar clerk stopped his heavy wooden stamp in mid-air. He looked down slowly, his tiny black eyes narrowing at Tibbar with deep hatred.

"You again," the boar clerk grunted, his deep voice sounding like stones grinding together in a bucket. "I told you yesterday, old rabbit. You cannot register a business for selling fake holy water."

"Come on. That was yesterday!" Tibbar snapped back, holding his chin up high. "Today I am here as the official advisor to a master artisan from the capital guild!"

The clerk looked past Tibbar and saw me standing there. He took in my short frame, my dark brown coat, and my small leather tool pouch hanging from my belt.

The boar clerk let out a loud, snorting laugh that blew a puff of dust across the desk. "A master artisan? That is a human kid! He looks like he belongs in an orphanage, not a trade registry!"

I did not get mad. I simply stepped up to the counter, pulled my official gold-stamped guild master certificate from my coat, and laid it flat on the wooden desk right under his broad snout.

"I am Master Silvester," I said in a calm, clear voice. "Head designer of the Earthen Vaults. That paper bears the high seal of the Novarian Guild Council. If you refuse to register my trade application, I will file a formal complaint with the border guard division led by Captain Jerson. He happens to be this old rabbit’s son."

The boar clerk stopped laughing. He picked up my certificate with two heavy, thick fingers, bringing it right up to his eyes.

He checked the golden seal, touched the raised metallic ink, and then looked back down at me with genuine surprise.

"A genuine master seal," the clerk muttered, his ears flopping back. "At ten years old? How is that even possible?"

"I am very good at what I do," I replied smoothly. "And I have fifty gold coins ready to pay the imperial business registration fee."

I dropped a heavy leather pouch onto the counter. The loud, rich clink of pure gold echoed across the noisy room, making several nearby merchants turn their heads in envy.

The boar clerk stared at the gold pouch, then glanced over at Tibbar, who was grinning like a proud fox. The clerk let out a heavy sigh, grabbed a thick sheet of white parchment, and dipped a black quill into an ink bottle.

"Name of the business?" the clerk asked, his tone much more polite now.

"The Earthen Vault," I answered immediately. "Specializing in high-security locks, safe boxes, brass keys, and reinforced metal structures."

"Location of the shop?"

I frozed and looked at Tibbar. I don’t know the place yet.

"We are registering the business first," Tibbar interrupted smoothly, leaning over the desk. "We will submit the exact street address before the sun sets today. Give us the temporary merchant badge now."

The clerk grunted, filled out the remaining lines on the parchment with quick strokes, and slammed his heavy brass seal onto the bottom corner.

STAMP.

He pulled a small iron badge from a drawer under the desk and handed it to me along with the paper.

The badge had the crest of the Vhaltrar Empire etched into its surface, showing a rising flame over a heavy anvil.

"Welcome to Phoya, Master Silvester," the boar clerk said grumpily. "Your daily business tax will be fifteen copper pieces, collected every evening at sundown. Do not miss a single payment, or my guards will shut your doors."

"Don’t worry. I will not miss it," I said, pinning the iron badge to my coat lapel.

We walked out of the dark administration building back into the bright, smoky sunlight. The air smelled of coal dust, but holding that heavy iron badge made my chest feel warm.

I was officially a registered merchant in the greatest empire on the continent.

"Step one is finished," I said, looking at Tibbar. "Now we need a physical shop."

"Leave that to me, little master!" Tibbar boasted, slapping his chest with confidence. "I know every alley, every building, and every greedy landlord in this entire city. What kind of place are you looking for?"

"It needs to be near the central market," I explained, walking alongside him down the stone avenue. "I do not want to set up shop in the deep slums because poor laborers cannot afford high-grade security safes. But I also do not want to be right inside the noble quarter, because the rent will swallow all our profits before we even sell our first key."

"Aha! A border spot," Tibbar nodded, his long ears twitching as he thought. "Right where the rich district meets the general market. A place where wealthy merchants and lower nobles walk past every single day."

"Exactly," I said. "Let’s find one."

We spent the next three hours walking through the crowded districts of Phoya. Tibbar showed me five different empty buildings, but none of them were right.

The first building was sitting right next to a giant steam foundry, and the constant pounding of heavy iron hammers made the floorboards shake so hard my teeth rattled.

The second building was a tiny wooden hut squeezed between two greasy butcher shops, and the smell of rotting meat was strong enough to make my eyes water.

The third building was nice and large, but the landlord was an arrogant lizard man who wanted eighty gold coins per month just for the ground floor.

Finally, as the afternoon sun began to turn the sky a dark shade of orange, Tibbar led me down a wide cobblestone street that sat right at the edge of the central plaza.

Tall marble carriages decorated with noble crests rolled past every few minutes, heading toward the upper city gates.

"Look at that one," Tibbar said, pointing his furry paw toward a small, two-story stone building sitting on a corner.

I stopped and looked at it closely.

It was a sturdy little building made of thick grey granite blocks. It had a wide glass display window facing the main street, though the glass was currently covered in thick dust and cobwebs.

The front wooden door was hanging slightly crooked on its iron hinges, and the dark roof tiles looked old, but the main structural walls were completely solid.

Best of all, it sat directly across from a high-end silk shop and a luxury tea house where wealthy beastmen nobles stopped to chat.

"It used to be an old jeweler’s shop," Tibbar explained in a low voice. "The old bird who owned it passed away two months ago, and his greedy nephew has been trying to rent it out ever since. Nobody wants it because the inside is filthy and the door frame is damaged."

"Damaged door frames are my specialty," I said, a grin spreading across my face. "Who is the landlord?"

"A ratfolk named Kino," Tibbar replied, pointing toward a small wooden office across the street. "He is as cheap as they come. Watch how he tries to skin us alive."

We walked into Kino’s office. The landlord was a skinny rat beastman with long grey whiskers, wearing a greasy green vest covered in ink stains.

He was counting a small pile of coppers on his desk when we walked in.

"Kino, my old friend!" Tibbar greeted loudly, spreading his arms wide.

Kino looked up, his long whiskers twitching with instant disgust. "Tibbar? You’re not a friend. Get out of my office. I am not giving you any copper coins today."

"I am not here for coppers, you greedy rat," Tibbar chuckled, gesturing toward me. "I brought you a wealthy master artisan from the capital! He wants to look at that rusty old stone shack on the corner."

Kino’s small black eyes snapped toward me, scanning my iron badge and my fine coat. A sharp, sly grin stretched across his thin face.

"Ah, a young master from the foreign guild!" Kino said, rubbing his skinny hands together. "That corner building is a prime piece of real estate! Perfect location! High foot traffic! Hundreds of rich nobles pass by every hour! For a fine master like you, I can let it go for fifty gold coins a month!"

I did not answer right away. I activated my Locksmith’s Eye skill.

A faint golden light covered my vision as the structural lines of the corner building across the street appeared before my eyes.

I saw every single defect in the granite walls, every rusted screw in the window frame, and every soft spot in the floorboards.

"Fifty gold?" I asked flatly, raising an eyebrow.

"A great steal for that location!" Kino insisted, nodding his head rapidly.

"The rear foundation support beam has a four-inch crack," I said calmly, stepping closer to his desk. "The main oak door frame is warped from damp air, meaning the deadbolt cannot lock properly. Three of the floor joists under the display window are rotting from a roof leak,"

I paused and turned to Kino "And the glass frame needs complete iron reinforcement before it can hold heavy security goods."

Kino froze. His long whiskers stopped twitching, his mouth hanging open in complete shock. "How... how do you know all that? You did not even go inside!"