(Sera)
The next day came faster than I expected.
After breakfast, I got behind the counter in the shop, adjusting something glowing on the lower shelves. Albert hadn't shown up yet—which was unusual, considering his usual grumpiness about routine. He must've stayed up too late in his rune room again.
I think he calls it the "carving chamber," but that's a generous title. It's really more of a glorified closet stuffed with half-melted candles and dangerous energy.
When he finally walked in, looking half-alive, I glanced up from where I was wiping down the brass frame of the main display case.
"Good morning," I said first .
"Morning," Albert replied, dragging his feet a little.
"What about him?" I asked, nodding toward the courtyard.
"He's in the yard. Training."
Of course he is.
Albert made a beeline for the rune room, hand already on the carved handle when I spoke up.
"I've been here for a few days now," I said, cloth in hand, my bandaged arm moving carefully but steadily. "And I still don't know how any of this shop is organized."
Albert, hunched over a thick ledger by the front shelf, didn't even glance up. "It is."
"That doesn't answer the question."
He sighed—one of those long, deep, 'why am I surrounded by children' sighs—then closed the book with a firm snap.
"It's organized by function first," he said. "Then glyph classification. Then trigger mechanism, rune complexity, duration, and finally material composition."
I blinked. "That's… ridiculous."
Albert looked genuinely offended. "That's precision."
Kael, perched on a stool near the workbench, chuckled. "So basically, it's impossible for anyone else to run this place."
"Exactly," Albert said, clearly proud of the fact.
He crossed the room to a tall glass cabinet and unlocked it with a small engraved key. The moment the door opened, I felt the pulse of soft magic—the scrolls inside shimmered faintly, like they were breathing.
Albert retrieved one wrapped in a thin, metallic-blue string and laid it flat on the counter.
"Let me show you something."
He unrolled the scroll halfway, and even before I could lean closer, I saw the sigils flare gently in the morning light.
"Anti-fall protection," he said. "Triggers when you drop more than four meters. It suspends you mid-air and lowers you safely to the ground."
Kael leaned in, curious. "That tiny thing does all that?"
Albert nodded. "Sixty golden crowns in the capital. Twenty-five here."
I gave a low whistle. "You're underselling it."
"I'm not," he replied. "Nobles in the capital pay for silence. Here, people ask questions."
"So the difference is discretion?"
"Partly. Also volume. And desperation."
He rolled the scroll back up and returned it to the cabinet. Then he opened a long drawer and pulled out three talismans with red-trimmed edges.
"These are shock displacers," he explained, setting them down with care. "Absorb one direct arcane impact and redirect the force outward. Very difficult to stabilize. Worth about two hundred crowns each."
Kael frowned. "How do you even make something like that?"
Albert shrugged. "Trial. Error. Burned eyebrows. Practice."
After a very long lecture,I leaned on the counter a bit, curiosity overriding the ache in my arm. "So this place… it's not just a shop, is it?"
Albert gave one of those vague shrugs. "It's a shop. Just a very good one."
"You could make more in the capital," I pointed out. "Why stay here?"
He didn't answer right away.
He turned slightly toward the window. Outside, Duckswatch was just starting to stir—merchants arranging crates, children chasing stray dogs, and that same baker sweeping flour off his doorstep like he did every morning.
"Because here," Albert said softly, "things find me."
That… stayed with me—until he spoke again.
"And it keeps me away from trouble," he added like it was nothing.
I shot him a look. "Right. Not suspicious in the slightest."
That earned a laugh from all of us.
...
For the next hour, Kael helped him adjust the floating temperature stones that hovered in the rear workspace. Each one was tuned to prevent damage to specific materials. I tried sorting through a stack of mobility talismans, decoding some of Albert's ancient, scratchy glyph notes. It was harder than it looked—especially since he wrote like someone drunk on caffeine and apathy.
Still, there was something oddly peaceful about it all.
Until the bell above the door rang.
I saw Albert tense before either of us looked up.
A man stepped inside. Tall. Hooded. Quiet. There was mud on his boots, dried and cracked, and something in the way he moved set my nerves on edge—too fluid. Too careful. Like someone trained to be unnoticed.
Albert turned slowly. "Can I help you?"
The man didn't speak immediately. He walked forward and lowered his hood.
Green eyes. Pale skin. Scarred cheek. His beard was half-shaved, like he'd forgotten to finish the job or simply didn't care.
"I'm looking for a movement scroll," he said, voice smooth. "High compression. Dual-trigger."
Albert's tone cooled. "Do you have a license?"
The man's lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. "Do I need one here?"
My fingers slipped under the edge of the counter, brushing the emergency glyph Albert had installed. One press, and the entire front half of the shop would flash-freeze in a containment pulse.
"Yes," Albert said firmly. "You do."
The man tilted his head slightly. His gaze flicked from Albert… to Kael… then to the locked cabinet behind us. Like he was calculating something.
A long pause.
"Then I'll look elsewhere," he said finally.
He turned and walked out.
The bell chimed again—softer this time, like it didn't want to be heard.
Albert moved to the door. He didn't speak as he slid the bolt into place. Then he touched a small silver dial embedded in the wall beside the entrance. The runes shimmered. A quiet layer of protection fell over the front of the shop, muting the morning light and leaving the air a little heavier.
Kael broke the silence. "Was that...?"
He didn't move like a traveler. He moved like someone used to slipping through crowds without a sound—and worse, being remembered by no one.
"Trouble," Albert replied. "Or the whisper of it."
I folded my arms. "You recognized him."
Albert shook his head. "Didn't need to. That kind of quiet? That posture? He wasn't here to buy. He was studying us."
That gave me chills.
He turned back to the workbench, calm again, like nothing had happened."Back to work." he said, while Kael gently went to the yard to resume his training.
…
(Kael)
The sunlight had already begun to dip behind Duckswatch's thatched roofs when Albert and Sera stepped out of the shop, the bell chiming gently behind them. The air had turned soft with evening warmth, that golden haze that blanketed the cobbled streets just before dusk. I leaned over the counter, tapping a ladle idly against the rim of a clean pot, trying not to admit—if only to myself—that I was a little restless.
They'd been gone longer than I expected. I knew they went to see the physician about Sera's injury, but still. Duckswatch wasn't that big.
The shop had fallen quiet save for the hum of arcane scrolls faintly resonating on their shelves. I had finished my cleaning and reorganizing for the day, and the usual bustle outside had started to die down, replaced by the slower rhythm of tavern music and home-cooked meals.
I glanced at the door for the third time in ten minutes, then turned to the half-washed dishes still waiting in the sink. Might as well keep busy.
The door finally jingled. I turned, only to find them stepping back in. Albert looked the same as ever, but there was a tired ease in the way he moved. Sera had rewrapped her arm, and her scarf was freshly adjusted. Something about both of them just felt… settled. Not cheerful, exactly, but content.
"Thank the skies you're back," I called out, grinning as I straightened up. "Let me go prepare something to eat."
Albert raised a hand lazily. "Don't make too much. We ate on the way back."
I paused, giving them a suspicious look. "Wait… I thought you went to the physician. Were you two on a date or something?"
That stopped Sera mid-step. She froze in place, her face going a shade pinker than usual.
"W-What? No—don't be ridiculous," she said, flustered.
Albert, unfazed, simply said, "Prepare for tomorrow. We leave early."
I smirked. "That's a very evasive answer."
Sera huffed and stormed into the kitchen, muttering something about boiling herbs under her breath.
I leaned on the counter, still grinning, and turned to Albert. "So where exactly are we going?"
Albert folded his arms. "You need to train without limits. So—we're heading into the forest. Two, maybe three days. We'll be back on the fourth."
"Four days?!" Sarah yelped. "That's forever! The house'll be haunted by silence!"
"You've been planning this?" I asked.
"Since the first weight cracked."
Sera returned, chewing a piece of fruit. "So what kind of training are we talking about? More weights?
Albert shrugged. "Let's just say… if he can walk back afterward, I did it wrong."
I groaned. "Fantastic."
Albert raised an eyebrow. Do you have a better option?
"No"
He nodded, satisfied. "Then get some rest."
I turned and stretched my sore shoulders, heading toward the back. I could already feel the exhaustion waiting for me tomorrow