"Well, I guess they would technically be elven, since I'm an elf," muttered the elven ranger standing before him.

"I would be willing to pay you a silver for 10 of them," said Bob, picking one up and examining it. The shaft was good and straight, and the arrow head was nice and sharp. Even though they were standard arrows, he knew he could sell them easily.

"That's better then I was hoping for! I have 20 at the moment, and I can have more in a couple of days."

Hector walked in, as Bob was paying the elf, and stood aside as he left, looking pleased.

"What have you there?" he asked, shutting the door behind the elf, and moving over to see the arrows.

"Elven arrows. I should sell out of these by the end of the day," said Bob with a smile, picking up all twenty of the arrows and placing them gently on one of the new shelves behind him.

"Really? That's fantastic," his dad said, looking around as Bob moved things around to make room for them.

The builders had finished the mission board, though it was currently empty, and had made him several new shelves, before heading out to start on the eastern entrance he wanted. They had helped him move the counter before they left, so he could start reorganizing again. He was really starting to enjoy this new layout.

"So, think you might stick with this layout for a while?" his dad asked, nodding to himself as he saw that the trash items for sale to the poor were on one of the old shelves, near the door still, where they could easily pick through them.

"I think so," said Bob cheerfully.

"I suppose it would make a thief pause if he stepped inside and your layout had changed from the last time," Hector decided looking around again.

"Have you heard that the king is going to be coming soon?" asked Bob, leaning against the counter.

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"I had, though there isn't a set time just yet; probably to keep bandits on the road down. The king's son, Prince Michael, is coming to see about marrying Clark's daughter Bianca. Though, there are several other young women interested in the position as well."

"Really? Who?" asked Bob. He hadn't heard this yet.

"The City Lord has another daughter, who's a bit young yet, but not out of the question, Lydia. And your aunt Georgianna is foaming at the mouth to get your cousin, Evelynne, married soon. That woman can't just let any of her children alone. They are nothing more than p.a.w.ns to her. Oh, and Lord Winston has two daughters that I believe the Prince may stop by and see, Lily and Daisy. His wife did love her flowers," he said with a frown and a shake to his head.

"Wow, no wonder the king is coming here," said Bob, impressed at the selection of girls the Prince could choose from.

"Oh, that's nothing, he could have his pick of any number of other girls in the kingdom, and no one would blink an eye, but strangely enough, he's being rather particular about who he chooses to marry."

"So, did you find anything out?" asked Bob, wondering how he was going to tell his father not to go get a drink tonight. He had been drinking every night since his mother had died.

His father was silent for a moment, while he seemed to get his thoughts in order, then nodded.

"I can't tell you everything, but there are things in the works. If you keep on doing what you're doing now, you should be fine."

"What about Vivian?"

"Keep her here. Put her to work as a debt slave. When she's worked off her debt, she can be s.n.a.t.c.hed up by the bounty hunters, but things may be settled by then. Debt slaves don't make very much, and you can claim that her food and lodging is taking away most of her earnings, to protect her longer. Clark does not have her listed as such, so he shouldn't have been doing that to her."

Bob nodded, not very happy with the situation. He didn't like the idea of more trouble, but it looked like he didn't have a choice.

As his dad turned to leave, Bob called out, "Hey, I heard something today."

"Oh? What's that?"

"There's looking to be some trouble tonight, down at the Dragon's Breath. Maybe you shouldn't go there tonight."

"And just how did you learn that?" asked his dad, turning to stare at him.

Bob thought about telling him about Trudy, then decided not to.

"One of my sources told me there's going to be a staged fight, and some people are going to get pretty hurt."

His dad studied him for a moment, then turned to leave, pausing at the door. "That reminds me, how exactly are you making so much more money? There shouldn't be any way for you to have enough to expand like you have been, with what I've been sending you."

"I buy things from the adventurers and resell it. You would be surprised what all I can get away with."

His dad turned to look at all of the things Bob had lined up on the shelves, his eyes lingering on the bits and pieces acquired from the adventurers. With a chuckle he turned and left.

Trudy came out from the back room, where she had been telling the new boys what all was expected of them, and leaned against one of the new shelves.

"Whatcha want me to do now? I can take the boys with me, and make the rounds of the food merchants? There aren't many left, with the cold weather coming and all."

"That wouldn't be a bad idea. Have them take some of the older food, that hasn't sold, over to Primrose as a thank you for sending them. I know she probably can't pay for it, but I would rather give it to her, than pay those trash men to haul it off."

"All right," she said, nodding. It wasn't long before the food shelf was almost empty, and they were gone.

Bob grabbed the broom, to sweep before the evening was up, wondering if his dad was going to that bar or not, when the door opened up, and several n.o.ble servants stepped inside. He watched them carefully look around, sniffing the air as if afraid of smelling something bad.

"See, I told you there wouldn't be any riff-raff in here," whispered one to another.

"Excuse me," said a third, before Bob could welcome them.

"Yes? How may I help you?" asked Bob, setting the broom back in its spot.

"Do you have any ink and quills available?"

"I do, though it can be a bit pricy."

"What do you have?" asked the same young man.

Bob turned and grabbed one of the 1-ounce vials of ink off the shelf, and turned to show it to him.

"This is 8 gold coins, and the quills are 1 silver coin each."

Excitement danced over the two girl's faces as they glanced at each other.

"How many vials do you have? Our master is wanting us to do quite a bit of writing, and this is half the cost of the ink at our normal store."

Bob raised an eyebrow at that, as he didn't think he was underpricing the ink. It was decent ink even. Checking on the shelf again, he counted three more vials.

"I have 4 ink vials and 9 ink quills. Do you need any paper? I have both fine paper and parchment?"

"Oh! Yes, please!" exclaimed one of the girls, clapping her hands in glee.

"Do you have any sealing wax?" asked the other girl, looking around.

"I only have two pounds of it, at a gold coin a pound."

"We'll take it all," said the young man, pulling out his coin pouch.

Bob saw that it held the family crest of Lord Winston, and found that very curious. He quickly counted it all up, and packaged it carefully in a burlap sack as they counted their coins for him.

No sooner had they left, then an old man came in, looking around.

"Excuse me, I was told that the mission board had been moved here?" he asked, holding a coa.r.s.e piece of parchment in his wrinkled hands.

"Yes, it's over there," said Bob, pointing to the board.

"Not many missions up, yet," laughed the old man, taking one of the thin nails the builders had left sticking out of the board, and pinning his paper up.

"What's your mission?" asked Bob curiously.

"I've lost my wedding ring, over near the town fountain. My old back won't let me bend over to look for it any more, so I thought I would pay someone to find it. If my wife gets back from her sister's and finds out I've lost it, she's going to tan me alive!"

Bob watched the old man leave, and wondered how he could have lost his ring, and sighed. If one of the street kids had found it, chances are it was long gone. He would have to mention it to one of his kids, as soon as they showed back up.