Quiet a few of the moongrass items had sold, but even better, some of the supplies the shop had in stock forever had been bought up, too. That skein of rainbow yarn that he thought was too garish to ever sell, for example, and that small jar of wooden beads. Little by little, the shop was getting back on its feet.
They hadn’t sold out of either the elixirs or the moongrass accessories, but neither had Braiden expected them to. This was still a far better outcome than anything he could have possibly imagined. Stuff was actually coming off the shelves. Customers were actually leaving the stores with goods that they’d purchased, not with empty pockets and disappointment.
Braiden bristled with pride. This was a whole new era for Beadle’s Needles, and for Augustin’s elixirs, too. If business kept up this way, at a steady and even pace, they might even make and save enough to pay off whatever bills Elder Orora was planning to throw at them. Maybe. Hopefully. Braiden liked to stay optimistic, but he wasn’t delusional.
“Shall we break for lunch?” Braiden asked. “My treat. Everyone worked so hard today when you didn’t even have to.”
Everyone gave a tired but appreciative cheer.
“I’ll split the bill with you,” Augustin said. “You were all so helpful herding people toward my elixirs, too.”
“Oh, sure,” Bones said. “Shoppers get thirsty, too.” He tipped a glass of leftover elixir into his mouth. It spilled down his jacket and dribbled onto the floorboards.
Warren sighed. “I’ll fetch the mop.”
“You can take off your helmet, you know?” Braiden said. “Weathervale is getting more and more used to seeing the burrowfolk around.”
“Perhaps when we arrive at the tavern,” Warren said, running the mop on the floorboards as Bones went for another swig. “The surface folk have been kind enough, but sometimes all the staring still unsettles me.”
“Of course,” Braiden said softly, giving Warren an apologetic nod. Change was different for everyone, and it wasn’t his place to push Warren out of his comfort zone.
Bones, however, was a different matter. Braiden wished it was easier to explain to others that the only dangerous thing about the walking skeleton was his mouth. Well, that and his dubious taste in music.
“Your cowled coat,” he said, patting at the wet spot on Bones’s jacket with a rag. “Don’t forget to keep the cowl over your skull. Head. Er, whichever your prefer.”
Bones did not have eyes, but Braiden could tell he was rolling them.
“I keep telling you, already. It’s called a hoodie. It’s what I named it.”
Braiden frowned. “What sort of preposterous name is that for an article of clothing? It’s like Augustin and his scandalous short trousers.”
Augustin rocked on his heels. “They’re called shorts, and you know that. You’ve seen me wearing them raiding the upstairs kitchen enough times to remember.”
Braiden blushed. Oh, he remembered all right, how the wizard snuck about the kitchen for snacks in the dead of night, his chiseled torso and powerful legs indecently exposed because of those blasted shorts.
And very amusing for him to call it an upstairs kitchen when there wasn’t really a proper kitchen on the ground floor, anyway. He sometimes felt sorry that Augustin needed to trudge all the way up the stairs, but there wasn’t much room for another dining space downstairs.
Self-cooling enchanted ice boxes were expensive, too. Braiden had only inherited this one from his family. Besides, it meant Braiden could spend meal times with Augustin — and it meant he could keep sneaking glimpses as the wizard skulked around half-naked, too.
“Don’t listen to Braiden.” Elyssandra tilted her head, grinning at Bones and his jacket. “You look very handsome in your new hoodie.”
The skeleton spread his arms out and creakily showed off his garment. “I do, don’t I?”
“And its magic works,” Warren said. “You didn’t frighten a single soul half to death today.”
Bones placed his hands proudly on his hips. “I didn’t, did I?”
Braiden’s stomach was grumbling, and a Beadle on an empty belly was no use to anyone. Very grouchy, too. It took actually nudging his friends out the door to get anyone moving. After insisting several times that Craghammer needed to come along and take a break and close up shop, the six of them finally headed over to the Dragon’s Flagon.
He found Augustin and Warren grunting and struggling with an entire barrel of elixir out on the cobblestones. Oh, Dudley did ask for a barrel of the stuff to sell at the Flagon, didn’t he?
Craghammer swept them aside and scooped up the barrel under one arm, striding off down the street like he was only carrying a watermelon. Elyssandra clapped her hands as she trotted after him, Bones rattling and clattering in tow. Warren shook his head in disbelief. Augustin deflated visibly.
“There, there,” Braiden said, patting him on the shoulder. “At least you’re still very muscular. Not very strong, but still.”
Augustin pouted. “Don’t you think my ego is bruised enough as it is?”
It was an average day at the Dragon’s Flagon, which was a silly way to say that business was brisk. It had been healthyenough in the time before the Weathervale dungeon had kaboomed into existence, but the new rush of adventurers had bolstered the bar’s earnings to new heights.
