"Let me get this straight. You'll give me food to eat and a place to stay for three nights. Then, all I have to do is make your family some clothing?"

"Aye." She replied. "Out of the kindness of my heart."

"Deal." I replied, outstretching my hand for her to shake it."

In response, she looked at me with more disgust than any other creature has shown me in my entire life.

"It's, uh..." I retracted my hand. "How we seal agreements where I'm from."

"Putrid filth." She replied, watching my hand pull back. "Don't try that with anyone around here. I'll pretend this didn't happen."

The old bag kept her word, not only to pretend I didn't unleash the worst slur imaginable toward her but, more importantly, toward the food and shelter.

I threw together her family's clothes pretty simply and discovered a couple of caveats to my Exotic Skill: Instant Reproduction. One is that I couldn't instantly reproduce something unless I've deconstructed it. So, even styles I crafted in my past life would have no value here unless I managed to create them by hand and then break them down again.

The only exception to this was differently sized clothing. The cloth tunic I deconstructed was meant for assumedly an older man, with room for a slight paunch in the stomach. However, the tunic I reproduced for the shopkeep's grandson fit perfectly to his slender frame.

The shopkeep only had three family members. Her daughter, Katherine, locally known as the town drunk, was a little too excited when it came time for her fitting. She was disappointed when I didn't need to take any measurements, not that I could do any proper fittings without tailor's tape. All I had to do was deconstruct a hand-me-down from the shopkeep's late daughter and then reconstruct it in a way that was slightly more put together.

I also made a more petite dress for the shopkeep's orphaned granddaughter. And put a lovely little floral embellishment across the collar of her dress and her brother's tunic so that the two would match. When I showed the shopkeep to get her approval, I saw her tear up at the sight of the children, though she tried her best to hide it.

It was only the following day that the shopkeep offered me a proposition.

"First off, stop calling me shopkeep, old bag, or whatever. My name is Deanne. I've told you this multiple times. Colter and Jessica won't stop copying you, and it's never been funny."

"Got it, Deanne," I replied. It felt weird rolling off the tongue, but I suppose I could get used to it.

"Second," she paused, thinking about how she wanted to choose her following words. "How would you like to extend the deal we've made?"

"Extend, to what end?"

"Well, for starters, we could move you out of the barn. The attic space is empty. It might make things a little more pleasant for you."

"It might be nice to sleep farther from the manure."

"And I'll continue to feed you."

"I feel like there's a catch coming."

"Well, the only catch would be... And I understand if you wouldn't want to do it... It's just that..."

"Spit it out. You're killing me here."

"We could sell your clothes in my shop. Split the sales fifty-fifty."

I stood shocked, unable to process the offer made to me.

"You're clothes are amazing, even better than what they sell in Salinel or across the sea in Dulcrois. I know I might be arguing against myself here, but if you helped out, I could see Hearston really start to grow and-"

I cut her off as I wrapped my arms around this babbling old woman. Tears filled my eyes, and a snot bubble shrank and grew from my right nostril.

"Oh." She seemed shocked by my sudden embrace. Does that mean yes?"

Incapable of speaking, I nodded my head in agreement.

I had to give it to her; that old broad knew what people wanted.

Within hours of opening, our entire stock had completely sold out. On the second day, it happened faster; people from other satellite towns and even Salinel traveled to Hearston to purchase our premium apparel. It wasn't until our third day that we realized some changes needed to be made.

First, we offered a trade-in deal to meet the demand for materials. If someone brought in 3 times the weight of the new article of clothing in a similar fabric. They would get the clothes and a fitting free of charge.

The influx of business meant that other family members had to help out. Almost sensing the family's upcoming windfall, Katherine had sobered up and started helping sell clothing in the family's store. Even Colter and Jessica began washing the refurbished fabric after I broke them down to their base materials.

Lastly was a substantial price increase for any customers not from Hearston. I questioned this at first but saw the value of Deanne's suggestion within a week. The people of Hearston didn't have much money, but dotted throughout were several small craftsmen. Who offered furniture and repairs at a substantial discount to her once decrepit shop.

And these craftsmen were happy to do so because Hearston as a whole was being born again. The town's baker, blacksmith, and even beggars had a severe growth in income over the weeks since my involvement. Even the inn had successfully reopened due to the influx of visitors solely for wardrobe procurement from The General Muir.

"Thanks again for the trade, Marshall," I said, holding several bundles of cloth and produce.

"After the dress you made for my daughter, Mersault, I owe you. I don't think I've ever seen her happier."

We stopped while walking back from Marshall's farm. We noticed a large gathering outside of The General Muir. The majority was townsfolk, but out front was a large cart emblazoned with the sigil of Salinel on flags and engraved in the wood. Two armored guards stood on either side while the crowd gave them a wide berth.

"Woah, quite the commotion."

"Salinel guards?" I questioned. "What are they doing here?

Information unavailable.

I worried the guard had tracked me to the family's shop for a moment. I could have implicated them unknowingly as they helped a wanted criminal from the larger city. I considered turning myself in and defending their innocence. Slavery was an awful concept, but condemning an innocent family who tried to help me was far worse.

As I got closer to the cart, I realized how far off my assumptions were. These guards weren't dressed like the one I interacted with inside the larger city's gates. Instead of studded leather, they wore heavy plate. The symbol of Salinel, curving lines forming a tree, was embedded with emeralds and faint traces of gold. These weren't the guards you'd send to track down a criminal; they were all flash.

I confidently walked to the shop and tried to enter without acknowledging the guard's presence.

"Wait," the guard threw his plated arm against my chest, stopping me in my tracks. "The shop is off limits while the attendant is inside."

"I work here," I replied, gesturing to the cloth bundles filling my arms.

He was bigger than I thought, having gaged him previously from a distance. His arm had no give as he halted me with it; it was like walking into a steel beam. Maybe these guards were more than just flash.

"I don't care. You can wait until the attendant comes out, like everyone else."

"Hey!" A voice called out from the crowd. "Don't you know who you're talking to, you big lug! That's the Wizard of Hearston!"

He looked from the crowd and back to me with a quizzical look. "Is that true?"

"Well, I'm not a-" I started but became suddenly unconcerned with semantics. "Yes, that's me."

"I'm sorry, sir." He dropped his arm almost in fear that I would liquefy it. "The Attendant will want to see you right away. Please go inside."

I simply nodded at the chrome giant and walked past, hoping he didn't decide to scruff me like the last Salinel guard I came across. Fortunately, he abstained, and I was allowed entry. Unfortunately, there were two more guards inside who both immediately reached for their weapons as I entered.

"Settle down, boys. He works here." Deanne called out from a backroom in the shop.

The two relaxed their grips and turned back to attention. As I entered the backroom, I saw Deanne pacing the room with flushed cheeks and frazzled hair. A shorter man sat in the only chair in the room, picking nonchalantly at a bowl of mixed nuts. His clothes looked like extravagant silk and finely woven wool spun together then dyed to create a beautiful balance of rust and multiple shades of bright blues. He was definitely someone powerful, not in stature per se, but definitely in influence.

"Mersault, please tell this idiot that we're not moving to Salinel."