Neighbours
First, he visited the shop directly in front of his on the other side of the road.
It was a cafe called Olive Tales Coffee Shop. Alfred had heard from Old Ren earlier that it was run by an Orc. Alfred would have found it easier to believe if it was called Olive Tales Tavern.
Entering the cafe, he found a warm and cozy atmosphere with soft candle lighting and a crackling fireplace. In the far end corner, a young couple was whispering their love. Apart from them, a few lone Mages were quietly reading books with an aromatic cup of coffee.
Alfred walked up to the counter to his right and rang the bell. A tall and muscular young Orc came out from behind the door wearing a loose-fitting white shirt and beige pants.
“Greetings, Sir. Tea or coffee?” he asked with a cheery voice in contrast to his dangerous looks.
“Maybe he was raised by humans,” Milo commented without coming out.
“Greetings, Mr. Oguk. I am Alfred Steelheart. I have very recently moved into what was before Lenny’s Bookstore and opened a potions shop called Milo’s Potions.” Giving him one of the gift boxes he had prepared beforehand, Alfred introduced himself.
At the same time, Alfred observed Oguk carefully. On the surface, the Orc was a Rank 1 Battle Mage. But three hundred years of reading people — on battlefields, in royal courts, in back-alley negotiations — had sharpened Alfred’s instincts beyond what any detection spell could match. The way Oguk moved, the controlled ease in his shoulders, the deliberate restraint in his grip — it all pointed to a Rank 5 Battle Mage, same as Alfred. The plain-looking locket he wore above his shirt was likely an artifact hiding his actual strength.
“A person with a story,” Alfred concluded.
“What! Old Ren has actually moved out? He didn’t inform anybody.” Oguk was shocked to hear the news, or at least on the surface.
But he still accepted Alfred’s gift with regard. “Sigh. He was a good neighbor. You know, he would always have his evening coffee here. But most of the time, he would keep to himself. I tried time and again to start a conversation with him and bond as a neighbor.”
“Anyway, you are well met, Sir Alfred. I would be sure to visit your shop.” He shook Alfred’s hand and passed him a bag of expensive coffee beans from the shelf behind him.
Following that, Alfred left the shop.
Next on his list was the shop on the right of his own.
It was an artifact shop called Alloy Crafts, run by a Dwarf.
Entering the shop, Alfred saw a group of Mages looking at the items displayed on the only intact shelf. The rest of the shop was a mess. Random items were lying here and there, and a musky odor indicated that cleaning had not been done in a while.
Navigating through the piles of items on the floor, Alfred found the Dwarf on the opposite end of the shop.
He briefly stole a glance at Alfred and went back to fiddling with a lock-like metallic device on his workbench. “You want something?” he asked without diverting his attention.
Alfred repeated his greetings and gifted him the box of potions. Only then did he pay proper attention to Alfred.
“That old Demon has left?” After a moment of silence, the Dwarf continued, “Anyway, I am Alfosdor, a Rank 3 Artificer. You can come here if your artifacts need repair or a replacement.”
“Definitely.” Although Alfred can create or repair artifacts to an extent himself, having a Rank 3 Artificer do it for him is a luxurious option.
Rank 3 Artificers are also Rank 3 Spell Mages. “He is very young for his capabilities. Another genius,” Alfred thought.
After another round of small talk, Alfred left, this time empty-handed. “Dwarves are indeed a little greedy.”
The final place he had to visit was the shop on his immediate left.
The building was large and old — at least older than the rest of the neighborhood.
After entering, Alfred saw rows of pews like that of a church on the ground floor. On the other end was a simple but unadorned stage.
Alfred looked around a bit. Seeing no one coming out to greet him, he called out, “Is anybody here?”
He called out twice. Only then did he hear a vexed voice of an old woman from above.
Shortly after, a tall old woman climbed down the stairs on the side of the stage. A similarly aged man followed behind her at a brisk pace.
However, the old woman let out a shrill scream when she saw Alfred clearly.
“Undying Healer! It’s the Undying Healer!”
“No. It cannot be possible.” The old man behind her was shocked as well.
She swiftly gathered mana at her fingertips. Waving her hands out, she quickly formed a string of runes in front of her.
“Greater Dispel Illusion,” she cried out with a low voice.
The string of runes shone bright and formed a hemispherical screen around her. It grew and traveled outwards in the blink of an eye, enveloping Alfred in its path.
However, seeing no change in the appearance of Alfred, the old woman was stumped. She took a shaky step back. The old man supported her from behind and whispered, “Calm down, Miriel. There is a reason why he was called the Undying Healer.”
Alfred also observed the eccentric old couple. “People still remember me?” The years had not been kind to them, but their bearing was unmistakable — the way they moved together, covering each other’s blind spots without thinking. Both were Rank 4 Stage 9 Mages, about three hundred and fifty years old. He had crossed paths with them during the Warring Age.
“The Foolish Thieves? Didn’t expect to meet you old bones again.” Alfred greeted them with a smile. “Pardon me for my rudeness. Couldn’t recognize you folks with all the marks of time.”
The old man took the lead and chuckled, “But seems like time was partial with us.”
“Tricks of magic, Isaac,” Alfred replied confidently.
“Perhaps you could teach us your ‘tricks of magic,’” Miriel joined in.
“I have opened a potions shop next door. I suggest you book an early appointment.”
“Oh! Potions? Seems like you have been busy,” Isaac said.
“Certainly,” Alfred replied. “Tell me more about this Pawn Shop of yours. I never imagined the Foolish Thieves would settle down like this.”
“Everybody has a retirement plan, Alfred,” Isaac answered.
“Here we auction off our collections. The floor above is a general display area,” Miriel added with a proud face. Her expressions had changed rather fast. There is a reason why they were called the Foolish Thieves.
Isaac looked at Miriel and back at Alfred, and a moment of silence followed.
Miriel continued, “I think you were asking how we can live out in the open. You see, we have made certain agreements with the Council.” She smirked.
Alfred lampooned inwardly, “Foolish indeed.”
“Here’s something I prepared to greet the neighbors. It would be a waste to throw it away.” He passed the gift box to Isaac.
Isaac opened the box and examined the contents with a practiced eye. “Vitality potions… Mana potions…” He uncorked one of the vials and gave it a careful sniff. His eyebrows rose. “These are at least Rank 3 quality. You brewed these yourself?”
“A small hobby,” Alfred said.
Miriel snatched the vial from Isaac’s hand and examined it herself. “This is not a hobby. The infusion density alone is beyond what most Rank 4 Potioneers can achieve.” She looked at Alfred with narrowed eyes. “The Undying Healer was known as a battlefield medic, not a Potioneer. When did you pick this up?”
“I had a hundred and fifty years of retirement to fill,” Alfred replied casually. “A man needs something to do.”
The old couple exchanged a glance. Miriel carefully placed the vial back in the box and closed the lid. “Well then, neighbor. I believe we will be your most frequent customers.”
“I would be honored. Though I should warn you — I haven’t set my prices yet. And I don’t offer discounts to thieves, foolish or otherwise.”
Isaac let out a hearty laugh. “Fair enough. But you should know that we have some connections in the auction circuit. Rare ingredients pass through our hands from time to time. If you ever need something hard to find…”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Alfred said with genuine interest. A reliable source of rare ingredients in Elysion would be invaluable.
Miriel walked him to the door. At the threshold, she lowered her voice. “Alfred. A word of caution.” Her playful demeanor had vanished entirely. “Old Ren — the Demon who sold you his shop. He left in quite a hurry. We don’t know the details, but something spooked him. That presence of death you probably felt in the shop… it wasn’t always there.”
Alfred’s expression didn’t change, but he filed the information away carefully. “I appreciate the warning.”
“We old folks have to look out for each other,” she said, the smirk returning. “Even if some of us don’t look old at all.”
Alfred walked back across the cobbled street of Oak Lane as the last light of the evening faded behind the rooftops. The gas lamps along the lane flickered to life one by one — not gas at all, he realized, but small mana crystals embedded in the lamp housings. A quaint touch.
He paused in front of his shop and looked up at the freshly painted sign. Milo’s Potions. The gold lettering caught the warm light of the nearest lamp.
“Not bad for two days of work,” Milo said from his shoulder.
Alfred looked left at the old auction house. Then right at Alloy Crafts. Then across the road at Olive Tales. A retired Rank 5 Battle Mage running a coffee shop. A young Rank 3 Artificer genius buried in his workshop. A pair of legendary thieves operating a pawn shop with the Council’s blessing. And now, a three-hundred-year-old reincarnator selling potions.
“Oak Lane is an interesting street,” Alfred murmured.
“You always did attract strange company,” Milo replied. “Or maybe strange company attracts you.”
Alfred didn’t argue. He unlocked the door and stepped inside.
The shop was quiet and dark. He lit the mana lamps with a small pulse of energy — a whisper of Vita Fons, so faint it would go unnoticed by anyone — and the warm glow filled the receiving room.
He made himself a cup of coffee using Oguk’s gift beans. The aroma was rich and complex — far better than he had expected from an Orc-run cafe. He sat behind the counter on a stool, sipping his coffee, and reviewed his mental checklist.
Shop acquired. License obtained. Lab set up. Neighbors greeted. Ingredients needed restocking, but that could wait. The immediate priority was brewing his first batch of potions for sale.
“I should start with the basics,” he said aloud. “Vitality potions, Mana potions, antidotes, and healing salves. Those will always be in demand.”
“And the specialty potions?” Milo asked, curling up on the counter.
“Later. I need to establish a reputation first. If I put out Rank 4 potions on the first day, people will ask questions. Better to start with Rank 2 and work up gradually.”
Milo yawned. “Three hundred years old and still pretending to be ordinary.”
“It has kept us alive this long.”
“It has kept you alive. I am immortal,” Milo corrected.
Alfred smiled and finished his coffee. He rinsed the cup, checked the locks on the front door, and headed upstairs.
Tomorrow, Milo’s Potions would open for business.