Inigo leaned back against the kitchen counter, arms crossed as he watched Lyra finish the last fry. The golden light of late afternoon filtered through the open window, catching the sheen of oil still warm in the pan and casting soft shadows across the wooden floor.
"You’re serious?" he asked after a moment, his tone a mix of surprise and curiosity. "You really want to help me run this thing?"
Lyra wiped her fingers with a cloth napkin and gave him a firm nod. "Dead serious. I’m not just saying it because that burger rocked my world. This could actually work, Inigo. Elandra’s never seen food . If you’re really committed to the idea, I want to be part of it from the start."
He studied her expression. No trace of a joke, no hint of flippancy. Just that calm, focused look he’d seen when she sized up a monster or made a critical strike. It hit him then—not only was she serious, she was already planning three steps ahead.
He smiled. "Then let’s do it."
"Well," he shrugged, "you’re already helping me find a house, cook a test meal, and now plotting out a business with me. Might as well make it official."
Lyra leaned forward and extended her hand across the kitchen table. "Partners?"
Inigo took her hand and shook it. "Partners."
They both grinned, and for a moment, the house felt a little less empty.
By the time they stepped out into the city again, the sun had begun its descent, casting Elandra’s rooftops in gold. The two of them made their way through the streets toward the eastern quarter—the marketplace district, where merchants, food vendors, and small eateries operated in a vibrant sprawl of color, sound, and mouthwatering aroma.
The air smelled of baked flatbread, grilled meat skewers, simmering stews, and sugary pastries. Street musicians played lutes or flute duets on corners. Children chased each other between carts. Traders called out prices and haggled with locals.
"Not a bad place to start looking," Lyra said as they passed by a line of eateries. "These stalls and shops get constant foot traffic from morning to dusk."
Inigo nodded. "We need something with decent space. A small kitchen setup, a counter for service... maybe one or two tables. But not too big, or the overhead will kill us."
Lyra pointed at a narrow two-story structure tucked between a tailor’s boutique and a spice shop. The sign above it read ’Creswick’s Pies’, but the shutters were closed and the paint chipped.
"That looks abandoned."
They walked up to the front. Dust coated the windows, and a faint paper notice had been nailed to the door. Lyra leaned in and squinted. "For lease. Owner moved to Caldrin Province."
Inigo peered through the dusty glass. "Looks like the main floor used to be a dining space. Kitchen in the back. Second floor’s probably storage or housing."
Lyra turned to him, excitement sparking in her voice. "You thinking what I’m thinking?"
He nodded. "Let’s find the landlord."
They tracked down the contact listed on the note—a man named Roffner, who ran a string of properties in the district. His office was located in a sandstone building just a few blocks away, and when they arrived, they found him sipping wine behind a wide desk littered with rental documents.
"You’re here about the pie shop?" he asked, raising a bushy brow.
"That’s right," Inigo said. "We’re looking to lease it for a new food business."
Roffner chuckled. "Hope you’ve got a better menu than Creswick. Man nearly burned the place down trying to deep-fry a goose."
He pulled open a drawer and removed a scroll, unfurling it on the desk. "Standard lease, but I’m willing to give a discount for the first three months. Rent’s eighty gold per month. That includes property upkeep and street licensing, assuming you’re not throwing keg parties in the alley."
"Sounds fair," Inigo said. "Can we inspect the interior?"
The landlord snapped his fingers, and a young clerk handed him a ring of keys. Moments later, they were back at the shop, keys in hand.
Inside, the air was stale but not unpleasant. The space was narrow but deep, with a long counter at the front and a modest kitchen behind it. The hearth was intact, and though the shelves were dusty and the back room cluttered with old crates, the building felt sturdy.
"It has good bones," Lyra said, tapping one of the wooden beams. "With a little cleaning, this could work."
Inigo opened the small hatch behind the counter that led to a coal oven pit. "Even the old oven’s still good."
Back at the office, Inigo signed the lease. He used a portion of his smaller banknote to pay for the first two months upfront, receiving a stamped receipt in return.
Outside, the sun was dipping low, casting the buildings in amber light.
"Well," Lyra said, standing in front of their newly leased storefront, "we’ve got a home, a shop, a recipe, and a team."
Inigo chuckled. "That team is just us."
They entered the shop once more, and Lyra lit a pair of wall lamps using a flint rod. The dim orange glow lit up the interior, making the space feel more alive.
"I’ll start sketching some layouts tonight," he said, pulling out a small notebook. "We’ll need a prep table, a cooking station, and somewhere to wash. We’ll also need permits if we’re going to sell to the public."
"I’ll head to the guild office in the morning and ask around. They usually handle all that bureaucracy stuff for adventurers starting civilian businesses," Lyra said.
"And we need a nameplate."
Inigo nodded. "The Mcronald."
"Mcronald?" Lyra tilted her head to the side. "Who is Mcronald? Someone special for you?"
"No, It’s kind of the famous restaurant in my hometown," Inigo replied.
She couldn’t argue with that.
"I am going to make this restaurant look like them, and in just a week or two, we will conduct a soft opening," Inigo said.
"Okay, let’s get to it immediately."