Chapter 133. Open Shop
The mages were efficient. By the time he brewed up another vat of soda, the chips and fries were already stored away in storage rings and ready to be transported. Rhys put the soda in his ring, and he and a few of the less-recognizable mages set out for the city… but not before Rhys made everyone a fresh pair of robes from the cloth in the garbage. He went for shades of red and yellow, since they were colors meant to incite hunger, and bright and bold enough to form the foundation of their brand. The clothes ended up looking a bit harlequin, due to the small scraps he was working with, to the point that they ended up almost checkerboarded with panels of red and yellow, but he shrugged internally. It was most important to attract attention when they were starting up a new brand, so why not do it with their uniforms, too?
As for their faces, he couldn’t do much right now, but he colored everyone’s hair, including his, black with charcoal, and used it to darken their eyes and define their chins a little better. Once they got to the city, he’d buy makeup and wigs, but for now, these clumsy disguises would have to do. He’d chosen those who were the best at disguising their auras in the first place. Not those who could completely suppress their aura—those had a different job—but those who could change their aura to be different from their own. They’d be disguising as foreign mages, after all, rather than mortals or local mages, so they didn’t need no aura, but just an aura that anyone who’d encountered them in the mines wouldn’t recognize. The other mages had done some scouting, and apparently foreign mages didn’t wear pins, but instead had some kind of paperwork that the city mages could demand to see. Mouse had snuck into the city and peeked at some papers, then worked with Lira to provide a decent copy of the visa, and today, Rhys carried those papers on his person.
Having outlandish clothes and strange makeup didn’t hurt their alias as foreigners, either. True, it wasn’t like he knew what any region nearby’s clothes actually looked like, but did most of the Empress’ good soldiers know, either? He had the vague sensation that what he was doing was somehow not morally okay, but given that he wasn’t trying to replicate any actual country’s attire, it was probably okay… right?
He had the money from their attack on the traders, plus a few more gold pulled from the guards at the farm. The herbs from the farm he couldn’t sell—they were too hot, since the authorities would be on the lookout for a large quantity of these herbs on the market—but they were healing-type herbs, so he could use them to imbue his sodas with a healing effect. He put that to the side for now. The first thing he wanted to do was get the store working, then expand the network of stores outward, from city to city, and become the rot that killed from within—but naturally, the first step in all that was to open their very first shop. And that was what the gold he'd gathered would go toward… just as soon as he found someone in the city who’d sell him real estate.
Rhys wandered the streets of the city, a little at a loss. He didn’t know how to buy real estate in this world. Hell, he was a bit shaky on how it worked in his world. He didn’t want to try the guarded, mage-only part of the city; that was far too much a risk, especially when they needed Mouse to consistently get past the guards. Instead, he walked the city near the gates, close enough that mages could see the shop regularly, but not so close that they’d be under the guards’ watchful eyes at all hours.
It turned out, he wasn’t the only person who’d noticed what a fine opportunity this was, and few buildings were open in the area of obvious prime real estate. The few that were, largely had rent prices posted that were far out of his purchase price. Rhys found himself circling further and further from the gates, until, at last, he stood in front of a run-down shop with reasonable rent posted. He stepped closer, peering into the windows to get a look at the interior.
“I wouldn’t bother, if I were you,” a gravelly voice advised him.
Rhys turned. An old man stood behind him, shaking his head. “It’s cursed, it is. Filthy hole that ruins everything it touches.”
Oh? That sounded promising to Rhys. He lifted his hands again and peered harder into the window. The man was right about one thing, at least; the building was filthy, full of garbage, dust, and some indescribable layer of gunk on the ground. Rhys licked his lips. He was excited just looking at it. What a formidable layer of filth! That would do great in his trash star.
“Everyone who’s tried to open a building has lost their business. Don’t bother,” the man continued.
“Who owns this building?” Rhys asked, ignoring his warnings.
The man narrowed his eyes. “Have you heard nothing, kid?”