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Tuesday, September 27th, 2253 - 4:23 pm

Outskirts — Crossroads — Market Street.

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Jeremiah walked back onto Market Street, shoulders slumped and mind heavy.

Well, that didn't go as planned, he thought. Still, at least Paul promised to talk to Sam for me.

It wasn't the outcome he'd hoped for, but it was something. A small step forward, both for the Mystical Menagerie and for himself. He couldn't help thinking of Sam. She'd been Sarah's apprentice in all but name for nearly a decade, staying by her side long after her own grade far surpassed her mentor's. The knowledge that Samantha had stepped up in his absence, holding the shelter together where he should have, was just another weight to carry.

Jeremiah pulled out his smartphone and brought up Sam's contact. His thumb hovered uncertainly over the call button. Would reaching out now seem desperate, like he was only calling because he needed something? Maybe the Sam he'd known wouldn't have cared — but who knew how much time and grief had changed her? Even Paul, who he'd once counted on as steady ground, had grown hard in his absence.

With a quiet sigh, Jeremiah slipped the phone back into his pocket.

"Paul said he'd pass along your message. You left the shop's address and contact info. Let it happen on their terms," he reminded himself. What would be, would be. If he didn't hear from Sam after a few days, he'd contact her himself and see if there was any hope of mending what friendship they once had.

He shook his head and turned toward the shop, trying to let go of what he couldn't control.

Market Street's midday bustle washed over him. Market Street wasn't anywhere near as crowded as Central had been, but as the main shopping area for the Crossroads, it was fairly busy.

As he walked down the major thoroughfare, he chuckled to himself. Just like how his day clothes had garnered looks in Central, his Regalia was attracting attention from those Outskirt residents out shopping. In contract to Central's 'polite' dismissal, however, the stares he was getting on Market Street were far more open, and sometimes even hostile.

"I must look like some rich kid slumming it," he muttered, shaking his head. He should have changed out of the uniform before heading back. The shelter visit had rattled him more than he realized.

No helping it now. The locals would get used to seeing his uniform soon enough, once the Menagerie opened, and he became a fixture instead of a novelty.

More pressing was the trio of shadows he'd picked up — a cluster of young toughs trailing him at a distance, likely weighing their odds. He glanced at them sidelong, already considering his options, when a familiar booming voice broke through the afternoon noise.

"JEREMIAH! Lad! Good to see you're back. Got your business sorted then?" Ulrick's shout carried easily down the street. The giant baker strode forward, arms wide and face split by a broad, welcoming grin.

At his approach, Jeremiah's would-be pursuers melted into the crowd, disappearing as quickly as they'd appeared.

Jeremiah barely spared a glance at the dispersing would-be troublemakers, turning instead to meet Ulrick's broad grin with one of his own.

"I did. Even if it didn't go quite the way I expected. You didn't have to come out here just to greet me, Ulrick," Jeremiah said, his tone light and teasing.

Ulrick laughed, the sound booming across the street. "Nonsense! As my new neighbor and the latest addition to the Market Street community, it's only right I give you a proper welcome." He extended a massive hand, voice carrying just a little too loudly for the setting. Out of the corner of his eye, Jeremiah caught several heads turning their way — some openly watching, others pretending not to eavesdrop but hanging on every word.

Jeremiah smirked, immediately catching on to Ulrick's intent. He clasped the offered hand with enthusiasm, matching Ulrick's energy. "Well, who am I to refuse such a warm welcome? It's good to be here, neighbor. Let's do our best to make Market Street even better, right?"

Ulrick's grin widened as he clapped Jeremiah on the back, his grip reassuring and strong. "Indeed. Come, come. We've got plenty to talk about… privately." His eyes were cheerful and his smile genuine, but the crowd seemed to get the hint. Prying eyes and ears quickly forgot either of them were there and drifted back to their own business.

Quieter now, Jeremiah glanced up at Ulrick. "So, if you're here, I'm guessing your… talk with Mero went well?"

Ulrick paused before answering. "As you said, it did. Even if it didn't go quite how I expected." He chuckled, but his next words were more thoughtful. "Your… friend didn't share much detail, but the gist I got is that he's working for Sarah, and you're caught up in one of her crazy plans. Something to do with the shop, right?"

Jeremiah nodded. "That's right. Though if Mero hasn't said more, I probably shouldn't either."

Ulrick nodded in return. "Understandable. But tell me this: are you alright with it? From what I gathered, you didn't really get a choice at first. And Sarah isn't here to step in if other folks start sniffing around for their share."

Jeremiah went quiet, considering, then gave a slow nod. "I wasn't at first. But the more I learn — the more I see — the more all of this just… feels like Sarah. Like, maybe she's not right here to help, but she's still looking out for me, somehow. Does that make sense?"

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Ulrick closed his eyes and nodded. "It does, lad. In that case, I won't dig any deeper." He turned, meeting Jeremiah's gaze. "But remember, Mero isn't the only one Sarah asked to keep an eye on you, you hear? If you ever need help, I'm just down the alley."

Jeremiah blinked, surprised, then managed a small, grateful nod. "Right… I'll remember that."

Ulrick grinned and clapped Jeremiah on the back, nearly making him stumble. "Good! Now let's get back to your shop. Today's a big day!"

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The rest of the walk to the shop was filled with easy small talk, peppered with bits of news about Market Street's residents. Ulrick, it turned out, knew something about everyone. Jeremiah was starting to think the man might be a bit of a gossip. The mental image of the giant baker squeezed into a tea circle with a gaggle of little old ladies nearly made him laugh aloud.

As they turned into the alley near the shop, Jeremiah spotted Stella Grim sitting outside on the stone bench that curled around the small corner tree. As soon as she noticed his gaze, her eyes widened. She sprang to her feet and dashed into the Mystical Menagerie.

Jeremiah's eyes narrowed, suspicion prickling. "What's that girl up to?"

Ulrick only chuckled. "I'm sure it's nothing, lad."

Jeremiah raise a brow and shot him a look. "Haven't you known them longer than me? You should know its never 'nothing' with those three."

Ulrick grinned and waved him forward. "Go on, then."

With a sigh, Jeremiah shook his head and kept walking.

As they reached the entrance, he noticed the lights inside were off. The late-afternoon sun barely reached through the front windows, leaving the shop interior steeped in shadow.

He pushed open the door and yelled into the darkness. "Stella! Mani! I don't know what kinda prank you you are planning, but I'm warning you, Ulrick is with me."

The only response was Stella's stifled giggle from somewhere inside.

Jeremiah let out another sigh and stepped through the doorway.

The Regalia's enchantments flared to life as he crossed the threshold, flooding his mind with far more presences than the three troublemakers he had been expecting.

Pop! Pop-pop-pop!

The shop lights burst on as a shower of confetti rained down from above.

"Surprise!" a chorus of voices rang out, echoing from every corner.

Ulrick's booming laughter followed, and he clapped Jeremiah on the shoulder before stepping inside.

Stella, beaming from atop the front desk, tugged on a rope, unfurling a bright banner overhead:

[WELCOME TO THE NEIGHBORHOOD!]

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Tuesday, September 27th, 2253 - 6:30 pm

Outskirts — Crossroads — Market Street.

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The party had wound down from raucous laughter to the comfortable hum of neighbors lingering together after dusk. Warm golden lamplight filled the Menagerie, spilling across every surface and banishing the gathering twilight outside. Confetti still dusted the floor, tracked in drifts beneath shelves and caught in the thick pile of a rug by the cafe. The banner above the desk fluttered each time someone passed, and the lingering scent of warm pastries and sweet tea mingled with the faint, magical aroma that seemed to settle in the shop now.

Billy, the baby kraken, lay sprawled across a half-empty tray of raspberry danishes, tentacles draped over the remains of an éclair as if he could defend his pastry hoard in his sleep. Occasionally, he let out a soft, satisfied burble, entirely oblivious to the grown-up conversations taking place around him.

At the corner cafe, Ulrick had commandeered two tables and pushed them together for a cutthroat poker game. He sat with his sleeves rolled up, cards fanned expertly in one hand, grinning broadly at his competition. Sally's husband, a wiry man with a keen gaze, held his cards close, while Bastion considered each move with a grandfather's patience. Mero, perched on a teacup and nearly invisible to anyone not paying close attention, tossed out chips with the reckless bravado of someone who could, if necessary, cheat in ways the others couldn't imagine.

Occasionally, shouts and laughter erupted from their corner as hands were revealed or someone accused Mero of "fairy trickery." Ulrick had already lost his last pastry to the pot, and the table was strewn with spoils: pastries, biscuits, even a precious ration of Sally's imported coffee beans.

In the café's window seat, Sally and Merry Grim sat together, quietly swapping neighborhood gossip between sips of tea. Merry's laughter, warm and musical, drifted across the shop, mixing with Sally's gentle, practical advice about running a storefront and the best times to order eggs from the market.

But the true spectacle of the evening played out near the grooming corner, where Lewis and the Grim siblings had — against better judgment — decided it was time for Maddie's "welcome bath." Stella and Mani, sleeves rolled up and faces determined, brandished brushes and bottles of enchanted shampoo. Alan, red-faced and laughing, held the spray nozzle at the ready, while Lewis tried in vain to coax the dripping lynx back onto the table with gentle words and a morsel of chicken.

Maddie, fur bristling and tail lashing, glared at her would-be groomers with a wounded dignity.

Jeremiah watched the scene from a distance, leaning against the polished pine shelves. Amusement curled at the edges of his tiredness. He wondered why Maddie didn't just leave. Given her grade, she could have easily overpowered all four of them. Yet she held her ground, submitting to the indignity of soapy water and brushes — though not without the occasional strategic swipe that sent Stella squealing or forced Mani to scramble out of the way.

Was it their contract that prevented her from acting too harshly? Or was it the magic of the Gentlebond's grooming table? Or maybe just her own strange sense of belonging. Perhaps, he thought, she simply didn't want to ruin the mood.

His gaze wandered over the room, feeling, for the first time in months, like the weight in his chest had lightened.

But even in the midst of celebration, Jeremiah noticed one person set apart. Amani sat alone in the shadowed reading nook, her slim frame curled up with a mug of steaming tea cradled in her hands. She stared out the window, eyes half-hidden behind loose strands of dark hair, posture withdrawn.

Jeremiah made his way quietly across the shop, weaving around discarded plates and sleepy pets. He approached Amani's nook and gave her a gentle smile.

"Room for one more?" he asked softly, not wanting to startle her.

Amani blinked, her gaze sharpening as she looked up. She gave a tiny nod and shifted to make space on the window seat.

Jeremiah slid in beside her, letting the quiet settle between them. He watched the party reflected in the dark glass, the bustle of Market Street glowing faintly beyond. "Not a fan of crowds?" he asked gently.

Amani shrugged, swirling the last of her tea. "Not really. Too many voices. Too much… change."

He nodded, understanding more than he could say. "It's a lot, isn't it? New faces, new rules. I'm still getting used to it, too."

Amani's lips curled into a faint, wry smile. "At least you get a party. When I moved in, all I got was a letter from the landlord and a warning about not setting anything on fire."

Jeremiah laughed, the sound genuine and bright. "Well, next time we'll throw you a proper welcome. I'll make sure Ulrick brings extra pastries, just for you."

Amani gave a quiet laugh, and for a moment, the wariness in her eyes eased. Together, they sat in companionable silence, the sounds of celebration washing over them. Jeremiah didn't try to push Amani to talk more. He knew that likely the only reason she was even here was because Ulrick brought her. Yet there was something comfortable about company in silence.

Just as the room began to settle into a gentle hush, a sharp knock sounded from the front entrance. Conversation faltered, and Jeremiah glanced up, expecting another neighbor or maybe a late-arriving squatter.

Stella, hair dripping from her most recent defeat by Maddie, darted to the entryway, towel forgotten over one shoulder. "I'll get it!" she called, and flung open the door.

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