A mimic spoon tried to eat Brakar's breakfast.

  "Really?" Brakar muttered, still half-asleep. "In my porridge?"

  The spoon-mimic quivered, caught between guilt and defiance.

  "Miles is downstairs already—something about needing to recalibrate his equipment before we visit Lady Caroline," Thadan said.

  Brakar groaned. "He's coming with us? This is just routine maintenance."

  "Apparently he needs to see his formula 'in action under noble conditions.' His words, not mine." Thadan adjusted his collar. "How do I look? Noble enough?"

  Brakar smiled. Thadan had spent an absurd amount of coin on this outfit—a deep blue waistcoat with silver thread, matching trousers, and a crisp white shirt that made him look somewhat respectable.

  "You look like you're trying too hard," Brakar said, fishing another spoon from the drawer and giving it a suspicious look before dipping it into his porridge. "Lady Caroline doesn't care about fancy clothes."

  "Easy for you to say. You're not the face of the business."

  Brakar glanced down at his own modest attire—clean but simple gray trousers and a loose-fitting shirt that allowed for the gestures his spellcasting required. "And I thank the gods for that every day."

  The spoon-mimic, seeming offended at being replaced, scuttled across the countertop and slipped between two jars. Brakar made a mental note to track it down later.

  "We should get moving," he said, gulping down the last of his porridge. "Miles will be interrogating the broom closet for structural inconsistencies if we leave him alone too long."

  Downstairs, they found Miles surrounded by glass vials, each containing subtle variations of amber liquid. He looked up as they approached, his eyes bright with the particular feverish energy that appeared whenever he discussed his research.

  "Ah, perfect timing! I was just finalizing the comparative analysis metrics." He gestured at the vials. "I've prepared seven distinct variants of the stabilization formula, each with minute adjustments to account for potential environmental variables at Lady Caroline's estate."

  Brakar exchanged a look with Thadan. "Miles, we're just doing a feeding and maintenance check. The chair's been stable for weeks."

  "Exactly!" Miles exclaimed, as if Brakar had made his point for him. "A perfect control environment for observational study! We need baseline data on optimal performance conditions before we can properly identify potential destabilizing factors."

  Thadan clapped Miles on the shoulder. "Whatever you say, Professor. Just try not to overwhelm Lady Caroline with scientific jargon. She's a client, not a test subject."

  Miles's expression turned serious. "Of course not. I understand the delicate nature of noble patronage. I'll maintain appropriate social decorum." He paused, then added with a hint of pride, "My mother was quite insistent on proper etiquette training."

  "Good," Thadan said. "The carriage should be waiting. Brakar, did you pack the standard maintenance kit?"

  Brakar hefted a leather satchel. "Formula, feeding tools, and emergency stabilizers. Though I doubt we'll need those. The chair has been one of our most cooperative pieces."

  The journey to the estate took them through Ironweave's more affluent districts, where the ironwork bridges connected elegant manor houses instead of the cramped buildings of the commercial district. Miles spent most of the ride mumbling calculations to himself, at times asking Brakar technical questions about the chair's transformation patterns.

  "Has it shown any preference for particular materials in its mimicry? Wood grain versus leather textures? Does it maintain consistent mass distribution during form shifts, or does it create localized density variations for structural integrity?"

  "It's a chair, Miles," Thadan cut in, watching the passing scenery with growing impatience. "It sits there and looks pretty."

  "Every mimic develops unique behavioral patterns," Miles insisted. "The more data we collect, the better we can predict and potentially prevent any issues."

  Miles's scientific interest seemed genuine, but there was something near obsessive about his attention to detail. Then again, that obsessiveness had produced the formula that kept their business running.

  "The chair does have some peculiarities," he admitted. "It behaves more like a pet than furniture—sometimes it even shifts around like it's dancing when someone approaches."

  Miles’s face broke into a radiant smile. "Fascinating! That suggests accelerated cognitive development patterns. I wonder if—"

  "We're here," Thadan interrupted, nodding toward the approaching gates of Caroline's estate.

  As their carriage pulled up to the entrance, Edwin was waiting for them, his posture perfect despite his age. He greeted them with a slight bow.

  "Mr. Caneca, Mr. Ginedras. Lady Caroline is expecting you in the south sitting room."

  His eyes shifted to Miles, one eyebrow rose. "And this is...?"

  "Miles Hartwick," Thadan said in a smooth tone. "Our specialist in mimic nutrition and behavior. He's accompanying us to ensure Lady Caroline's chair receives the very best care."

  Edwin's expression remained neutral, but Brakar detected a hint of skepticism in his eyes. The butler nodded. "Of course. Please follow me."

  Brakar noticed Miles's eyes darting everywhere as they walked, taking in details with near analytical precision. The academic's lips moved in silence, as if cataloging observations for later reference.

  They found Lady Caroline in a sunny room overlooking the garden. She sat in her mimic-chair. At their entrance, she looked up from her book and gave them a warm smile.

  "Ah, my furniture wizards have arrived!" She made a brief gesture, and the chair adjusted to help her rise without strain. "Right on schedule, as always."

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

  "Lady Caroline," Thadan said, executing a bow that was just formal enough to be respectful without appearing stiff. "You're looking well."

  "Better than I have in years, thanks to this marvelous creation." She patted the arm of the chair, which seemed to preen under her touch. "I never realized how much energy I wasted just trying to sit comfortably until I had a chair that actually works with my body instead of against it."

  Brakar stepped forward, setting his satchel on a nearby table. "We're here for the maintenance. Has the chair been behaving as expected?"

  "Better than expected," Caroline replied. "It's learned exactly how to adjust when my joints are particularly troublesome, and it never complains when I sit reading for hours."

  "Excellent." Brakar turned to Miles. "This is Miles Hartwick, a colleague who specializes in mimic behavior. He's been helping us refine our feeding formula."

  Miles bowed with grace. "An honor to meet you, Lady Caroline. I've heard remarkable things about your chair's adaptation capabilities."

  "Are you a mage as well, Mr. Hartwick?"

  "An alchemist by training," Miles replied. "With particular interest in the intersection of magical transformative properties and physical matter stability. Your chair represents a fascinating example of sustained form maintenance in domesticated mimics."

  "I see," Caroline said, though her slight smile suggested she didn't grasp his terminology. "Well, you're welcome to examine it while Mr. Caneca performs the maintenance."

  Brakar moved to the chair, whispering a soft greeting in the magical cadence that mimics responded to. The chair quivered in recognition, its surface rippling before settling into stillness. He then began the maintenance process—checking for signs of strain and feeding minimal amounts of formula into the hidden mouth in the chair's underside.

  "This is a lovely sitting room," Miles was saying, his tone casual. "Does it connect directly to the dining area, or is there a separate parlor between?"

  "There's a modest music room through that door," Caroline replied. "The dining room is across the main hall. Why do you ask?"

  "Just admiring the layout," Miles said quickly. "Noble architecture has always fascinated me. Do you entertain often in this room, or do you prefer other spaces for guests?"

  "I use this room primarily for reading and informal visits," Caroline was explaining. "Larger gatherings are held in the main parlor, though I've been using this room more frequently since acquiring the chair."

  "Fascinating," Miles murmured. "And the servants—do they thoroughly clean the furniture daily, or simply dust around it? I ask because some cleaning compounds can potentially interfere with mimic stability."

  "Edwin ensures everything is properly maintained," Caroline replied. "Though he's been quite careful with the chair, almost treating it as another resident rather than mere furniture."

  "Wise approach," Miles nodded. "These creatures—er, furnishings—respond well to consistent handling routines. Does the chair ever... complain... about the cleaning process?"

  Caroline laughed. "It shuffles a bit when Edwin uses the feather duster, almost as if it's ticklish. But that's part of its charm, isn't it?"

  "Indeed." Miles's eyes scanned the room again. "I understand you'll be hosting an event soon?"

  Brakar paused in his work, wondering how Miles knew this. They hadn't discussed Caroline's social calendar.

  "Yes, a small gathering next week," Caroline confirmed, seeming unsurprised by the question. "Several families from the Eastern Quarter will be attending. I'm quite looking forward to showing off my marvelous chair. Several of my friends have expressed interest in your shop after seeing how it's improved my mobility."

  "Excellent," Thadan interjected. "Word-of-mouth among the nobility is our most effective advertisement."

  Brakar finished the maintenance and stepped back, wiping his hands on a cloth. "Everything looks good. The chair is maintaining optimal stability and responsiveness."

  "Wonderful!" Caroline beamed. "It truly has made such a difference in my daily life."

  Miles approached. "If you wouldn't mind, Lady Caroline, I'd like to observe the chair's adaptive capabilities in action. Perhaps you could sit in a few different positions while I note how quickly it adjusts?"

  Caroline looked surprised but nodded. "Of course, if it helps your research."

  For the next several minutes, Miles directed Caroline through a series of seated positions—reading posture, conversational posture, relaxed posture—while taking detailed notes on how the chair morphed to accommodate her. As she settled into a reclined pose, Caroline let out a soft moan. "Ohhh... that’s the spot. I swear, it knows my back better than my doctor."

  "Try leaning forward slightly," Miles instructed, scribbling rapidly.

  She did, and the chair shifted beneath her. "Mmm... that glide. It’s like being cradled by magic." Her eyes fluttered half-shut, and she chuckled. "If I start purring, just ignore me."

  Brakar turned noticeably red. Thadan, standing behind him, struggled to keep a straight face and quickly looked away, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

  "Remarkable," Miles murmured at one point.

  He increased the duration between position changes, making each test a bit longer than the last. The chair performed with perfection, drawing a pleased smile from Caroline.

  "I knew it was special, but I had no idea it was scientifically significant," she said.

  "Oh, very much so," Miles assured her. "Its ability to maintain character is quite impressive."

  Caroline glanced at a nearby clock on the mantel. "Oh! I just remembered—I need to attend some meetings."

  “It’s no problem. I have all the data I need. I appreciate your cooperation.”

  As they all prepared to leave, Miles asked one final question. "Your security arrangements must be quite thorough for an estate of this significance. Do guards patrol inside the house, or primarily the perimeter? And do they check the furniture during shift changes? Just curious about how they interact with the mimic."

  Edwin, who had returned to escort them out, answered before Caroline could respond. "Security details are not discussed with visitors, Mr. Hartwick. I'm sure you understand."

  "That’s a shame. Thank you for your patience, Lady Caroline. Your chair is truly a remarkable specimen."

  Outside the mansion, as they walked toward their carriage, Thadan nudged Miles. "What was that about? You sounded like you were casing the place for a robbery."

  Miles looked startled. "Did I? I apologize. When I'm in research mode, I sometimes forget social norms. I was simply gathering environmental data."

  "By asking about guard patrols?" Brakar raised an eyebrow.

  "External variables that might influence mimic behavior," Miles explained. "Guards moving mimics during security sweeps could potentially disrupt their stability patterns."

  Thadan laughed. "Well, try to sound less like a spy at our next client visit. I thought Edwin was going to have us escorted out."

  "I'll be more mindful," Miles promised, though he seemed more embarrassed than contrite.

  As they approached the carriage, Brakar caught a movement from the corner of his eye. Across the street, hidden behind a large ornamental shrub, stood a familiar figure—the ratkin from the Commerce Guild, Vermil Threadwhisker. His gaze was fixed on Caroline's estate.

  "Thadan," Brakar murmured, nodding toward the ratkin.

  Thadan followed his gaze, his expression darkening. "What in the hells is he doing here?"

  "Vermil!" Thadan called out, startling the ratkin.

  At the sound of his name, Vermil's head snapped up, his whiskers twitching with speed. When he spotted them watching him, his eyes widened in alarm and then scurried away, his tail whipping around the corner as he disappeared from view.

  "Now that’s suspicious," Miles observed.

  "He's been watching our business since the day we registered," Thadan said grimly. "I think we should follow him. Find out what he's up to."

  Brakar checked the position of the sun. "We can't. We have appointments at the shop this afternoon. The Silversmith family is coming to look at dining sets, and that merchant from the Harbor District wanted to discuss custom display cases."

  Thadan hesitated, torn between pursuing Vermil and maintaining their business schedule. Finally, he sighed. "Fine. But this isn't over. That rat is up to something, and I intend to find out what."