Jeremiah turned the new talisman over in his palm, studying the raised calligram, then pressed it into Lewis's hand with an encouraging nod.

Lewis stared at the talisman, his eyes widening as if Jeremiah had just handed him a live ember. "What? Seriously?"

Jeremiah's grin was easy and genuine. "Go on, take it. It's yours."

Lewis started to raise his hands in protest, shaking his head so hard that a stray lock of hair fell over his brow. "No, I couldn't, sir. This has to be worth a fortune —"

Before Lewis could pull away, Jeremiah closed his own fingers around Lewis's, firmly but kindly. "Lewis. This isn't charity. You've been breaking your back around here lately, and I told you before, I wasn't sure how soon I'd be able to pay you. So, call this part of what I owe."

Lewis looked lost for a moment, mouth working, as if still hunting for an argument. "But what about the QTM? The payout, and —"

Jeremiah shook his head, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. "That's a separate matter. All that rubble was headed for the dump anyway. What you did with it was up to you." He tilted his chin up toward Maddie's perch, a sly spark in his eye. "And didn't I promise Maddie the first one would be yours?"

At that, Lewis glanced up at the Tangled Lynx. Maddie regarded him with her usual unreadable calm, then slowly blinked — a deliberate, almost regal gesture that seemed to settle the question.

A long sigh escaped Lewis, shoulders finally sinking. "…Alright," he muttered, the resistance leaving his posture. "But I still think it's wasted on me."

Jeremiah only chuckled, the sound light in the warm air. "You might be surprised. Just follow the instructions on the back. I haven't tried this kind yet, so let me know if it does anything strange."

He winked. "And remember, if you need more, you know where to get them. I can sell them to you at cost. Think of it as an employee perk." Jeremiah laughed.

Lewis nodded, still looking at the talisman as if it might leap from his hand. The runic calligram caught the sunlight, casting a faint, leafy pattern over his skin. He turned it over once, twice, lips parted in silent awe and maybe just a trace of fear.

Jeremiah's smile softened as he turned for the courtyard door. "Enjoy it, Lewis. And thanks again for everything. You've earned it."

Lewis didn't say a word — just gave a small, uncertain nod, his gaze never leaving the talisman resting in his palm.

——————————————————

Jeremiah walked back into his shop and sighed, rolling his shoulders to work out the knots of tension and stress that had built up there. The old wooden floor creaked beneath his steps, the familiar scents of tea, coffee grounds, and sun-warmed dust welcoming him back inside. Alone again, he felt the invisible shell of composure begin to flake away, revealing the quiet ache beneath.

He leaned a hand against the wall, steadying himself, and exhaled slowly. The Shopkeeper's Regalia still sat across his shoulders with the same easy weight, its subtle magic soothing his nerves, keeping his voice measured and posture poised. In the moment, it was a blessing — he'd needed every drop of that borrowed steadiness to get through the last hour: convincing Maddie to trust him, talking Lewis past his own doubts, and, earlier, fielding the old woman's skepticism without losing his temper.

But now that the shop was empty, Jeremiah could feel the cracks spiderwebbing beneath the surface. The Regalia's calm never quite reached the place inside that gathered stress like a wound, the exhaustion settling deeper than mere muscle. His heart still beat a little too fast, thoughts flickering over what could have gone wrong. Was it really his own skill that had seen him through, or was it just the magic's doing? Would he ever truly be the person the Regalia let him pretend to be?

He rubbed at the back of his neck, the skin damp with nervous sweat, and forced a shaky laugh. Maybe one day he'd learn to bridge that gap. For now, he was grateful for the assistance.

He wandered toward the front windows, trailing his fingers along the edge of a shelf as he went. Jeremiah paused at the window and caught sight of Lewis, kneeling near the roots of the old ash tree, Maddie standing across from him. Between them, a single blossom unfolded, delicate petals unfurling in the heat, impossibly bright against the dark soil.

Lewis stared, open-mouthed, his rough hands hovering over the bloom as if afraid to touch it. Maddie, regal and wild, watched him with inscrutable green eyes, her tail curled in satisfaction. For a moment, Jeremiah forgot the ache in his shoulders and the weight in his chest. He let himself smile — a real one this time — as a thin ribbon of pride threaded through his fatigue.

Maybe the Regalia made it easier to fake confidence, but the connections and possibilities forged here were real enough. And that, at least, was something he could believe in.

Jeremiah circled back behind the front counter, the quiet routine of the shop settling over him like a worn blanket. Billy floated in his bowl, golden eyes bright and tentacles undulating lazily in the filtered sunlight. The little kraken watched him, head cocked in wordless curiosity, bubbles rising in slow, thoughtful trails.

On impulse — perhaps encouraged by his victory with Maddie — Jeremiah reached out through the bond they already shared, focusing inward and inviting the System to form an attunement. Much like with the puppies, it came effortlessly. Where Maddie's had been a careful negotiation, Billy's response was immediate, exuberant — a door flung open in a house already made welcome.

The surge of connection made Jeremiah laugh aloud, startled by the pure joy that spilled through. Warmth, trust, and boundless excitement rolled over him like an ocean swell, and for a wild moment, he thought he could almost hear Billy's thoughts as clear as his own. Colors, shapes, flickers of memory, and emotion spun between them: the glint of a treat jar, the cool slide of water, a deep and abiding affection that left Jeremiah's eyes prickling.

——————❇——————

Attunement formed:

Billy Bridge - Polaris Kraken

Connection: Strong

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

——————❇——————

Jeremiah reached over and stroked Billy's mantle with a finger, sending a ripple across the surface of the water. "Good boy, Billy. Looks like we just leveled up, huh?" The little kraken spun in a dizzy loop, broadcasting his approval with a wash of cheerful energy through their strengthened connection.

Why hadn't I tried this before?

Curiosity drew Jeremiah to the System menu. He scanned the newly unlocked list of Billy's talismans — only to find his smile falter, just a touch. Most were simplified versions of abilities already in the skill shop, a step down from the dazzling powers hinted at in Billy's bloodline. Some abilities, like Void Pocket and Nerve Net, didn't appear to have equivalent talismans at all. For a moment, Jeremiah felt a flicker of disappointment — but it was quickly swallowed by the tide of affection still pouring through the bond. Lesser powers or not, the link itself was worth more than anything he could buy.

Scrolling through the list, however, one talisman did stand out to him.

—✦—

Ten-tacles

Rank: G

Keywords: Minor Morph, Support, Utility

Description: "Because sometimes opposable thumbs just aren't enough."

Unleash your inner kraken. For the next ten minutes, your fingers or similar appendages morph into flexible, prehensile mini-tentacles inspired by a juvenile kraken's unique biology. These tentacles grant you improved grip and reach, making tasks like holding slippery objects, climbing, or grabbing multiple small items easier. However, fine motor control and delicate manipulation are limited, requiring active focus and control. The sensation is odd at first, but the effect is entirely reversible and fades without a trace. Try not to drop your teacup when the magic wears off. Multiple uses of this talisman in a short span of time may result in hand cramps, fatigue, and spasms.

Uses: 2 per talisman

Requirements: Must possess hands or finger-like digits

Cost: 7 marks

—✦—

Jeremiah couldn't help but grin as he reread the "Ten-tacles" talisman description, a quiet chuckle slipping out before he could stop it. It was unmistakably linked to his own skill, Kraken's Grasp. Though, thankfully, the talisman's version seemed far less dramatic than the wild, chaotic attempts he'd fumbled through days before. The thought of his customers awkwardly experimenting with sudden tentacles was both bizarre and strangely endearing. Maybe Billy could offer lessons — at a premium, of course.

But as he continued scrolling through the fresh lists unlocked from both Maddie and Billy, Jeremiah's amusement slowly faded, replaced by a contemplative hush. The talismans drawn from Sissy, Milo, and the puppies had always felt gentle — comforting, restorative, simple. Maddie's and Billy's, though, whispered of something much wilder. They bristled with untamed potential, the kind of magic that could just as easily become dangerous if wielded carelessly.

Jeremiah stood still in the golden hush of his shop, the soft background chorus of paws, purrs, and bubbling water filling the space around him. He found himself caught between the quiet promise he'd made to build something good and the wild possibilities he might unleash into the world.

As he stared at the case where the Beast Talismans quietly waited for their destined buyers, a single thought passed through Jeremiah's mind.

Change was coming to the Crossroads… maybe sooner than any of them were ready for.

——————————————————

Evening shadows stretched long in the back alleys behind Market Street, the orange spill of gaslights fighting a losing battle against the gathering dusk. Laughter and the sharp slap of cards echoed through a narrow brick corridor, where four young men lounged on crates and battered folding chairs, a makeshift table between them. Jonny — narrow-faced, hair wild, eyes quick and restless — flicked his wrist, sending a worn playing card sailing into the center of the pile.

"Beat that, Hank," he crowed, baring a row of too-white teeth. Hank, broad and sullen, grimaced as he tossed his hand down. The other two, younger and nervier, watched with the sharp alertness of alley cats, chips and crumpled bills piled between them.

"Luck's all you got, Jonny," one muttered, not quite meeting his eyes.

Jonny leaned back, cocky and loose-limbed, his boots braced on the crate. "Luck's all I need, mate. And a bit of brains, yeah?" He winked. "That's what separates us from the trash."

A burst of laughter, half-mocking, half-envious, rippled through the group — until a slow, deliberate set of footsteps crunched down the alley.

It was just a man, at first glance. Middle-aged, sharp suit under a battered coat, hair slicked back with more precision than style. He carried himself with an unhurried confidence, hands in his pockets, a faint smirk ghosting his lips.

Jonny and the others fell silent, their laughter shriveling to a wary hush. The newcomer's shadow stretched over the game, and for a moment, no one moved.

"Evenin', boys." The man's voice was warm, almost friendly, but with a coiled weight behind it that turned the air brittle. "Mind if I sit in?"

He lifted his head just enough for the shadows to part from his face. Recognition flickered across Jonny's face, quick as a cut. He knew that voice. Everyone on this side of town did. It was Capo Gresham — one of the Oddfather's men sent to watch Market Street.

Jonny shot to his feet, brushing invisible dust from his jacket. "C-Capo Gresham! Sir, we didn't expect — I mean, it'd be an honor." He nudged the others hard with his boot until they scrambled upright, suddenly all respect and nerves.

Gresham smiled, his teeth sharp in the gloom. "No need to stand on ceremony, boys. I heard there was a decent game in this alley." He swept his gaze over the cards, the chips, the faces gone pale and eager. "Mind if I try my luck?"

Jonny, pulse thudding at his throat, slid his winnings aside and offered the Capo a seat with trembling hands. "Of course, sir. Always room for one more." He forced a grin, pride and anxiety warring on his face. "Wouldn't want the Oddfather's best to think we don't treat our guests right."

Gresham chuckled, low and genuine, and took his seat. For a while, the only sounds were cards slapping the table, chips rattling in tense hands, and the occasional nervous cough. Gresham played well — well enough to win, but not so much that he embarrassed his hosts. Instead, he let Jonny win a few hands, let the boy's confidence return by inches.

After a spell, as dusk thickened and the city's noise faded to a distant hum, Gresham leaned back and fixed Jonny with a knowing look.

"You've got a good crew, Jonny," the Capo said, almost offhand. "Fast hands, faster brains. Heard some things about you. The old-timers have been impressed with how you're handling the Kindergarten."

Jonny puffed up, a flush of pride blooming under the grime. "We do alright, sir. Just trying to make a name for ourselves, you know? I don't let my boys slack."

Gresham laughed. "Don't be modest, lad. I did my own stint in the Kindergarten. I know how that place can be sometimes. Trouble can come from the most unexpected of places. It takes real talent to deal with the… rats."

The way the Capo spoke the last word drained the blood from Jonny's face. He had done what he could to suppress news of the… incident, but it seems it had spread regardless.

Gresham's gaze sharpened, all the friendliness draining away, leaving a glint of something darker. "You want a name, son? Maybe a little more than luck and street games?" He tapped his finger against the table, slow and deliberate. "The Oddfather's always looking for talent. Might be I could put in a good word. Get you something a little… bigger than street corners and spare change."

Jonny's breath caught. The others stared, eyes wide with equal parts fear and longing. "You mean that?" he managed, voice cracking just a hair.

Gresham smiled — a slow, wolfish thing that never quite touched his eyes. "Depends, Jonny. There's a job that needs doing. Small, but delicate. Not just anybody can handle it." He flicked a card across the table, the jack of spades spinning to a stop between them. "You get it done, you'll have my recommendation. And maybe more."

Jonny's hands clenched, knuckles gone white. The hunger was plain in his eyes. "Tell me what you need, Capo. I'll handle it. Promise."

Gresham stood, smoothing the lines of his coat, and nodded with an approving gleam. "That's what I like to hear. We'll be in touch soon, Jonny. Play your cards right, and there's a place for you in the big game."

He left them there, shadows stretching long behind him, Jonny and his crew staring after the Capo with hearts pounding and hope burning too bright in their eyes.

In the gathering dark, Jonny grinned — a little wild, a little desperate. His moment was coming, and he would not let it slip.

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