Chapter 77: Earthen Vault Shop is Open!

"I am a master locksmith," I replied, leaning my hands on his desk. "I see structural flaws through stone and wood. That place needs at least twenty gold coins worth of repairs just to make it safe for customers. I will give you fifteen gold coins a month, and I will pay two months upfront right now."

Kino gasped, grabbing his chest as if he had been stabbed. "Fifteen gold? Hell no! That is highway robbery! I am losing money!"

"Fifteen gold is fair for a broken building," Tibbar added with a sharp grin. "Plus, my young boss here will fix all those structural flaws himself using his master tools. You get a fully repaired granite building for free, and thirty shiny gold coins in your pocket today."

Kino looked at the heavy gold coins I pulled from my pouch, then looked back at my calm, unbothered expression. He swallowed hard, his rat nose twitching back and forth.

"Twenty gold," Kino whined desperately. "Make it twenty gold a month, and the building is yours!"

I looked at Tibbar, who gave me a tiny nod.

"Deal," I said. "Twenty gold a month."

We signed the lease parchment right then and there. Kino handed over a large, heavy iron key that looked rusted and neglected.

I took the key, feeling its rough surface, and immediately used my magic to clean the internal rust with a tiny pulse of mana.

Click.

The rusted key turned smoothly in my hand.

For the next seven days, Tibbar and I worked from sunrise to sunset transforming that dirty, abandoned jeweler’s shop into a high-end workshop.

It was hard, exhausting labor, but it was also surprisingly fun.

On the first two days, we cleared out mountains of old garbage, broken glass, and thick cobwebs that had built up in the corners over the past two months.

Tibbar spent most of his time complaining loudly about his aching back and his long furry ears getting filled with grey dust.

"My whiskers will never be clean again!" Tibbar groaned on the third morning, leaning against a broom with an exhausted look. "I am an old rabbit! I should be sitting in a cozy rocking chair eating sweet carrots, not scrubbing grease off granite walls!"

"Keep sweeping, Assistant Rabbit," I chuckled, using a hand plane to smooth out a thick oak board for our main display counter. "If you do a good job, I will buy you a full basket of sweet roasted carrots from the central market tonight."

Tibbar’s long ears shot straight up in the air. "Roasted carrots with honey?"

"With extra honey," I promised.

"Why didn’t you say so earlier?" Tibbar shouted with sudden energy, sweeping the wooden floorboards twice as fast as before. "Watch me make this floor shine like royal gold!"

While Tibbar handled the cleaning and painting, I focused on the actual metalwork and structural security.

I used my iron tools and my ’CLOSE’ magic to completely repair the front oak door.

I re-aligned the iron hinges, reinforced the frame with dark steel plates, and installed a heavy three-cylinder deadbolt lock that I forged from spare iron scraps.

It was an anti-tamper lock that required a double-notched key to open. No standard thief in Phoya could ever pick it.

I also fixed the rotting floorboards under the display window, replacing them with thick mahogany planks that I polished with dark walnut oil.

Inside the wide window, I set up three raised display pedestals covered in rich red velvet cloth.

On those pedestals, I placed my finest creations.

On the left pedestal sat a sleek, portable iron lockbox with a double-dial brass combination ring.

On the right pedestal sat a collection of custom-designed keys made of polished silver and brass, each one cut with intricate geometric patterns.

And on the center pedestal, right under the main glass, sat a miniature model of a heavy stone safe.

It was made of polished grey granite, reinforced with dark iron bands, and featured a working three-stage locking mechanism that clicked loudly whenever the dial was turned.

By the evening of the seventh day, the transformation was complete.

The old, dirty shack was completely gone. In its place stood an elegant, professional workshop that looked better than half the shops in the noble quarter.

The dark stone exterior was spotless, the front glass window shone under the street lamps, and the polished mahogany door looked strong enough to stop a charging bull.

Above the entrance hung our brand new wooden sign, carved from thick oak and painted with gold leaf lettering.

THE EARTHEN VAULT

Master Silvester - Security & Precision Locksmithing

Tibbar and I stood out on the cobblestone street in the cool evening air, looking up at the glowing sign. Tibbar was wearing a brand new dark blue vest over a clean white shirt that I had bought for him, his long ears standing proud and tall.

"What a shop, Silvester," Tibbar murmured, rubbing his eyes in genuine awe. "It looks like a royal bank."

"It looks like a place where rich people will spend a lot of gold," I corrected him with a satisfied smile.

We walked back inside, sitting down on two high wooden stools behind the main mahogany counter. I pulled out a small piece of parchment and a quill, laying them flat between us.

"Now then," I said, looking at the old rabbit man. "Let us talk about your official contract."

Tibbar raised an eyebrow. "My contract?"

"You are my shop assistant now," I explained, writing down the terms with quick strokes. "Your job is to greet customers, manage negotiations, handle local guard relations, and keep greedy landlords away from my counter. In return, I will pay you a fixed daily wage of thirty copper pieces."

Tibbar blinked, doing the math in his head. "Thirty coppers? My daily tax is only ten coppers! That leaves me twenty coppers of profit every single day!"

"Plus," I added, holding up a finger, "you will receive a five percent commission on every high-grade safe or custom lock we sell."

Tibbar gasped, his long furry ears flapping back in pure joy. "Five percent? Silvester, you are the most wonderful, generous little demon boss in the entire world!"

He grabbed the quill and signed his name at the bottom of the parchment with a flourish, shaking my hand with vigorous excitement.

"Tomorrow morning, we open the doors," I said, looking at the heavy iron lock on our front entrance. "Let us see what kind of business Phoya brings us."

"To wealth and gold, little master!" Tibbar toasted, holding up a cup of warm tea.

I smiled, leaning back against my stool. Everything was set. My permit was legal, my shop was elegant, my assistant was ready, and my workshop was fully stocked.

The morning of our grand opening was bright, cold, and clear. The rising sun cast a warm golden glare across the dark stone buildings of Phoya, making our new shop sign shine like polished brass.

Inside the workshop, Tibbar was standing in front of a small glass mirror hanging on the wall.

He spent twenty minutes adjusting his dark blue vest, smoothing down his long grey ear fur, and admiring his reflection from every possible angle.

"Look at me, Silvester," Tibbar said proudly, wiggling his tail. "Do I look like a high class shop assistant, or do I look like a noble gentleman who owns three tea houses?"

"You look like a rabbit who spent too much money on a blue vest," I replied, leaning against the counter as I wiped down my precision tools with a clean cloth.

"Nonsense!" Tibbar declared, slapping his chest. "Appearance is everything in the commercial district! When rich beastmen walk past our glass window, they do not want to see a dirty beggar behind the counter. They want to see a sleek, professional rabbit who knows how to handle fine gold!"

"Just make sure you do not talk their ears off," I grinned. "And remember, no selling fake holy water from my counter."

"That was a one-time business idea!" Tibbar huffed, adjusting his collar. "Besides, today is a fresh start. We are going to make so much gold that Kino will cry tears of envy every time he collects our monthly rent."

I walked over to the heavy mahogany entrance door, grabbed the polished brass handle, and turned the key in the lock.

Click.

The heavy deadbolt retracted smoothly. I pulled the door open, flipped the small wooden sign hanging on the glass from CLOSED to OPEN, and stepped back into the showroom.

"We are officially open for business," I said.

For the first hour, things were relatively quiet.

People walked past on the busy cobblestone street, going about their morning routines.

Some were wealthy catfolk ladies carried in silk chairs by tall wolf guards, while others were simple dogfolk tradesmen pushing wooden carts full of iron nails.

A few curious passersby stopped in front of our wide display window, pointing their fingers at the shiny miniature granite safe sitting on the red velvet cushion.

"Look at that little stone box," an elderly feline noble murmured, peering through the glass with a brass monocle. "It has no keyhole on the front frame. How does one open such a device?"