“Brother, you’ve met Krow before. And that’s my nephew, Talebrech.”

The boy smiled at Krow shyly. “Thank you for last night.”

The boy was thanking him for throwing a cup?

Krow mentally shrugged. “You’re welcome.”

“Yes, thank you again, Krow.” Maga picked Dayan up and sat, with the girl on her thighs. “Of course, if someone else was there to do his job, this would never have happened.”

Kalorke paused as he sat down, before ignoring her and reaching for a meatpie instead. He glanced at Krow. “I didn’t think you would be one to fall so deep into drink.”

Bro, Krow complained silently, don’t use me to annoy your wife!

“It was more because of the chair to the head that he fell,” Buri snorted. He smirked. “The drink he held well enough.”

That wasn’t helping either.

Thankfully, Buri grabbed two meat pies, tossed one to Krow, and sauntered out the door.

Krow smiled politely at the table, then paused. “Thank you for putting up with me for this time.”

Then he followed after Buri. The draculkar was leaning against a balustrade, waiting.

“Does the tavern sell shotbark rabbit meat?”

Buri, chewing on his pie, lifted a brow inquisitively.

“I should pay for taking up someone’s bed the last two nights.”

“Not necessary.” Buri waved his sentiments away. “It was a guest room.”

“Even then.”

Buri eyed him, then relented. “Shotbark rabbit, huh? I’ll bring you to the assistant cook. You should’ve told Maga if you wanted to give meat. She’s in charge of the tavern kitchens during the daytime.”

He wanted to, but staying there was a bit awkward.

The assistant cook shot Buri a look when Krow piled seven rabbit carcasses on the table, then added one more to make sure of the weight.

“A hundred kilos. Will that do?”

Buri shrugged. “The other night, you said you had something to talk about?”

The tavern at midmorning was not so populated, only a few people at the tables closest to the kitchen. The booths were empty.

“I’m looking for a warehouse to rent. Sarnaan directed me to you.” Krow finished off the meatpie. Not bad. The meat had the strong flavor of game, tender and spiced.

Buri coughed a laugh at Krow’s statement. “The witch actually thinks I’m good for something?”

“I’m surprised too. Someone who actually trips over their own feet during a barfight could not—gah!”

Buri shoved him.

Krow flipped onto the balustrade and slid down, smirking up at the other.

Buri huffed, amused. “What sort of storage are you looking at? I do have a couple of unused warehouses, but they’re old. Haven’t been used in a generation.”

For draculkar, a generation was what, a hundred years? That didn’t sound promising.

“I’m going to use it for monster materials.”

Buri made a considering sound. “I see why she sent you to me.”

“She was probably optimistic.”

“Do you want to fall off these stairs?”

Krow gave him a grand smile. “We’re already on the road.”

“A pity.”

“Let’s see these warehouses of yours then.”

Buri led the way. “They’ll need some work done before they’ll be able to store monster goods, probably. As I said, they’re old.”

“And unused.” Who knew what state they were in now?

“Not enough people to use them.”

They made their way into some trees and Krow saw a large circular building, just three levels. The top was domed, creating a fourth level within.

The ground fell away some meters from the warehouse entrance, and steps were carved into the stone.

Krow peered over the stone balustrade.

Right below them was a part of the herb fields, and close by were the waterfall gardens that grew the village’s most lucrative herbs.

“Grandfather was one of the few people who refused to gut his warehouses and convert them to domiciles when the herb trade declined. His warehouses are the only ones currently usable for you, unless the Widow Gegeq took care of hers.”

“And did she?”

Buri scoffed. “Unlikely.”

Ah.

Buri tapped his bracelet onto the lock. It clicked open. He tugged on the handle of the double-doors once. Twice. Harder. Then he used two hands. “What is wrong with this eighteen-forsaken door?”

Krow came forward to help him, flipping a shovel into his hand.

With difficulty, they pried at the crack between doors, until they separated widely with a loud creak and thud.

A plume of dust escaped the entrance as fresh wind surged into a space whose air hadn’t been circulated for decades. The two fell back, coughing.

A hundred-year-old stench followed the dust, creating a choking miasma.

“Probably not that one,” croaked Krow. Even his mask could not keep that out.

Buri grunted, mouth and nose covered with an arm.

Closing the door was easier, thankfully. Buri slammed his bracelet onto the lock and the smell cut off.

They sighed in relief.

The next warehouse was lower on the cliff, closer to several houses.

Opening it was just as difficult.

The moment the doors parted, they both leaped to the side like frightened rabbits.

Dust bloomed out the opening too, but the smell was far less intense than the first. It was just old age and mildew, nothing mysterious.

A long moment, and Krow peered past one of the sliding doors. “Looks clear.”

Buri strode inside, paused, looked down, then blankly strode out again.

Krow looked at the draculkar’s boots. The thick soles were covered in black fluff.

The floor of the warehouse was entirely covered in soft ashy mold.

“The last one’s not a good bet,” Buri informed him, wiping his soles on the grass.

It wasn’t. The third warehouse was unfortunately too close to the waterfall, and had rotted through in places.

The second it was.

“Too bad the cleaning enchants are worn down.” Krow muttered.

“Friend, let me let you in on a small secret.” Buri unsheathed the knife at his waist, peered at the enchant polygon and skillfully traced his knife into the design.

Not every enchant needed to be contained in a shape, but for those that were used in structural magics, a polygonal containment design based on the complexity of the enchant was needed for longevity of effectiveness.

The cleaning enchantment carved on the building was contained in a square, which was one of the simpler designs.

After carefully tracing the lines of the design, Buri blew the excess wood off.

The design flashed, and the floor exploded.

“Oy!”

Krow grabbed Buri and threw him bodily out the door, following to land with an easy roll, bouncing to his feet.

“Didn’t expect that,” Buri pushed himself up from the ground. “At least you threw me into the grass. If I hit rock and broke my legs, I’ll be thanking you for the price of the potions. That witch will call me a cripple as well as useless, and there will be no living with her after.”

Krow raised his brows. “Are you living with her?”

Buri’s face flushed. “What do you take me for?”

Krow stifled a laugh. “A gentleman, I’m sure.” The dark cloud in the warehouse dissipated. “In any case, you’re not useless. The cleaning enchant worked.”

The stone of the warehouse floor was free of mold, and most of the dust was gone.

They entered the warehouse.

Buri smiled, pleased. “Huh. Guess it worked after all.”

“You didn’t think it would?”

“It works less often than you think.” A satisfied look came over his face. “We could do the same to some of the simpler enchants here.”

They spent the day looking for and restoring the enchants.

The amount of enchants that were working was surprising, but a good surprise.

The downside, was that Buri cheerfully stated outright that he was raising the price because his labor was ‘a precious commodity, you know’.

The warehouse was smaller than the one in Nyurajke, a total of 1800 slots.

At 200 drax a year for a three-year lease contract, Krow was still satisfied.

Buri transferred the lock control to Krow’s Yulsukh bracelet, then slung an arm over his shoulders.

“Time to celebrate!”