“You sure you don’t want to stay?” asked Thadan. “Could use an expert archer when the furniture gets rowdy.”

  “Not a chance, Thadan. My first client’s expecting me tomorrow.” Mira adjusted the pack on her shoulder. “Besides, I’m out of arrows.”

  “The university orientation starts next week.” Pockets said shyly. “Though I could probably delay it if you need help setting up the—”

  “Absolutely not.” Mira’s spotted ears pointed forward, her amber eyes sharp and predatory. “You’re going to that school if I have to drag you there myself.”

  “But what if they need my expertise with mechanical—”

  “No.”

  The sofa-mimic sat still in the corner, almost exuding a quiet sense of goodbye.

  “Just... be careful with this whole thing, okay?” Mira glanced between Thadan and Brakar. “I know you’ll ?ignore that advice, but try not to get eaten by your own merchandise.”

  “That will absolutely never happen.”

  “We literally just saw it happen,” Mira said.

  “Details.” Thadan waved his hand dismissively. “Besides, we’ve got Brak. Nothing bad can happen with him around.”

  “That’s what you said about the griffon incident.”

  “Oh my God. Are you gonna keep bringing that up? How many times has it been already? Besides, we survived, didn’t we?”

  “Barely.” Mira’s whiskers twitched. “Just promise me you’ll think things through before doing anything stupid?”

  “Define stupid.”

  “Thadan.”

  “Fine, fine. I promise to run all potentially lethal decisions by Brak first.”

  “That’s... not exactly what I meant.”

  Pockets pulled her hand from one of her many pockets. “Here. I made these last night. Just in case.”

  She held out what looked like two mechanical pendants.

  “Emergency beacons,” she explained. “If things go really wrong, just break the outer casing. They’re connected to similar devices in my workshop, so I’ll know if—”

  “We’ll be fine.” Brakar took the pendants. “But thank you.”

  Mira checked the position of the sun through the window. “We should go. My carriage leaves in an hour, and Pockets still needs to pack her entire workshop.”

  “It’s mostly packed! I just need to disassemble the main workbench and the experimental steam engine and the prototype teleportation array—”

  “The what?”

  “Nothing! Just a small side project. Barely explosive at all.”

  They stood in awkward silence for a moment, none of them quite ready to say the final goodbye.

  “Well.” Mira cleared her throat. “Try not to die.”

  “You too.” Thadan’s voice was suspiciously rough. “And hey, if you ever get tired of cutting hair...”

  “I’ll send clients your way. The ones who might appreciate furniture with an attitude.”

  Pockets launched herself forward, her auburn scales glinting as she wrapped her small kobold arms around as much of the group as she could reach. “I’m going to miss you guys.”

  “We’ll visit,” Brakar promised. “Once we figure out how to run a legitimate business.”

  “So never, then?”

  “Probably not, no.”

  They shared one last laugh, then Mira and Pockets stepped out, leaving Thadan and Brakar alone with their collection of reformed predators and questionable business decisions.

  Without a word, Thadan moved to the backroom. Brakar followed. They stared at the cellar steps with the kind of resignation normally reserved for tax collectors and unexpected in-law visits. His muscles still ached from the earlier fight, and the thought of wrestling their newly-acquired sofa-mimic up those narrow stairs made his back hurt in anticipation.

  “Come on!” Thadan’s energy blazed bright despite their recent adventure. “That sofa isn’t going to move itself.”

  “Actually, it could,” Brakar pointed out. “If I wasn’t magically exhausted from stopping it from killing us earlier.”

  “Details, details.” Thadan was already halfway down the stairs. “Besides, think how much better our new desk will look with proper seating around it!”

  The desk that you haven’t paid for yet, Brakar thought but didn’t say. Kip’s unexpected generosity still left him feeling slightly off-balance. People didn’t just give away handcrafted furniture, especially not to complete strangers with questionable business plans. And yet...

  The sofa-mimic sat exactly where they’d left it, its leather surface gleaming with that subtle iridescence that marked it as something more than ordinary furniture. It had arranged itself quite tastefully in the corner, as if trying to prove how well-behaved it could be.

  “Right then.” Brakar approached cautiously, reaching out with what remained of his magical senses. “Let me see if I can convince it to take a more manageable form.”

  He gathered what dregs of power he could muster, forming the twisted syllables that mimics seemed to understand. The spell felt clumsy in his mouth, like trying to speak with a numb tongue. The sofa’s body shifted in response, but remained stubbornly sofa-shaped.

  “No good?” Thadan asked, though he clearly already knew the answer.

  “No good,” Brakar confirmed. “I’m too drained. It’s like trying to lift weights after running a marathon—the spirit is willing, but the magic is weak.”

  “Then we do this the old-fashioned way!” Thadan rubbed his hands together with alarming enthusiasm. “You take that end, I’ll take this one.”

  “You were stabbed less than an hour ago.”

  “Barely stabbed. Hardly counts. Besides, your healing fixed most of it.”

  “Most isn’t all, and—” Brakar’s protest died as Thadan grabbed one end of the sofa anyway. “Fine. But when you tear your stitches, I’m not healing you again.”

  “Noted!” Thadan’s grin suggested he didn’t believe that for a second. “On three?”

  Brakar positioned himself at the other end, trying to find a grip that wouldn’t strain his already protesting muscles. “Wait, is it on three, or after three?”

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “What?”

  “Do we lift when you say ‘three’ or do we lift on ‘go’ after you say three?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “It matters if we want to lift at the same time and not drop a potentially angry mimic on our feet.”

  “Fine.” Thadan shifted his grip. “We’ll lift after I say ‘go.’ Ready? One... two... three... go!”

  Thadan abruptly let go of his end and darted to the side where Mira’s old bow lay forgotten against the wall and he scooped it up in one fluid motion and slung it over his shoulder with practiced ease and then rushed back to his position with a mumbled apology and grabbed his end of the sofa again as if he hadn’t just left Brakar struggling with the full weight of a shape-shifting predator.

  They heaved upward in unison. The sofa was heavier than it looked—which, given that it was technically a centuries-old predator made of semi-liquid matter, ?shouldn’t have been surprising. Still, they managed to get it off the ground without immediately dropping it.

  “Right,” Thadan said through gritted teeth. “Now we just need to get it up the stairs.”

  “You know who would have been really helpful with this?” Brakar started shuffling backward toward the steps. “Mira. With her natural strength and agility.”

  “True.” Thadan adjusted his grip, his face slightly pale. “Or Pockets. I’m sure she has some kind of mechanical lifting device in those endless pockets of hers.”

  “The ones we just watched walk out the door.”

  “Are you going to be this passive-aggressive the whole way up?”

  “Probably.” Brakar’s heel met the first step. “Careful now. We need to angle it... no, your other left.”

  They maneuvered the sofa through a series of increasingly awkward positions, trying to find the right angle to navigate the narrow staircase. The creature’s exterior flickered occasionally, either from amusement at their struggles or concern about being dropped.

  “Maybe...” Thadan’s voice was strained. “Maybe we should have planned this better.”

  “You think?” Brakar’s arms trembled as they attempted to pivot around a particularly tight corner. “Next you’ll suggest we should have thought through the whole ‘furniture store run by predators’ thing.”

  “Hey, that’s a solid plan! Once we... figure out... the details...”

  “Damnit, lift with your legs!” Thadan grunted, his face reddening with exertion.

  “I am lifting with my legs.”

  They were about halfway up when Thadan’s grip slipped slightly. The sofa tilted alarmingly, and Brakar felt his own hold starting to give way. For a heart-stopping moment, he was certain they were about to send their new business partner tumbling back down to the cellar.

  Then the sofa’s weight seemed to shift—not enough to move on its own, but just enough to help them regain their balance.

  “Did it just...?” Thadan blinked in surprise.

  “Help us? I think so.” Brakar sent a wave of grateful acknowledgment through what remained of his magical connection. “Nice to know at least one of us is thinking practically.”

  The rest of the ascent was ?easier, though still far from graceful. By the time they reached the top, both men were sweating and breathing heavily. They managed to maneuver the sofa through the doorway and into the main shop area without further incident.

  “There!” Thadan released his end with perhaps more force than necessary. “Perfect spot right in front of Kip’s desk.”

  The sofa settled into position with suspicious precision, its cushions arranging themselves in a way that somehow managed to complement the desk’s craftsmanship.

  “It’s good at that, isn’t it?” Brakar observed. “The whole... furniture thing.”

  “Well, yeah. It’s had centuries of practice pretending to be furniture. Only now it gets to do it legitimately.”

  “Speaking of legitimacy...” Brakar collapsed onto the sofa, which obligingly adjusted its cushions to better support his aching muscles. “We should probably get the other one too.”

  “Right!” Thadan’s enthusiasm remained inexhaustible. “Can’t have a proper office without matching sets!”

  He disappeared into the back room, returning moments later with what appeared to be a perfectly ordinary wooden chair. Only someone who knew what to look for would notice the subtle shift in its grain.

  “There we go!” Thadan positioned the chair-mimic on the other side of the desk, then dropped into it with his usual lack of grace. “Now we can start proper business planning!”

  The chair adjusted itself under him, providing optimal support despite his awkward sitting position. Brakar noticed that both mimics seemed to be paying attention now, their forms undulating as if intrigued by the discussion of their future roles.

  “Alright then.” Thadan leaned forward, his expression turning serious. “First things first—how long can they maintain these forms? I mean, we can’t exactly sell furniture that might suddenly decide to go walkabout.”

  “I... don’t ?know,” Brakar admitted. “The texts I’ve read mostly focused on their hunting habits, not their long-term transformation capabilities.”

  “Okay, what about feeding? How often do they need to eat? What do they eat besides, you know, adventurers?”

  “Again, not entirely sure. The academic literature tends to focus more on avoiding being eaten than on dietary requirements.”

  “Well, what do you know?”

  Brakar shifted uncomfortably, the sofa-mimic adjusting to accommodate his movement. “I know they’re intelligent. More intelligent than most people give them credit for. And they can understand complex concepts when communicated properly.”

  “That’s... not ?very helpful for running a business.”

  “No,” Brakar agreed. “It’s not.”

  They sat in silence for a moment, surrounded by transformed predators and the weight of everything they didn’t know. Sunlight streamed through the shop’s windows, highlighting dust motes and the faint iridescent shimmer of mimic surfaces. Outside, they could hear the normal sounds of Ironweave’s morning commerce—cart wheels on cobblestones, merchants calling their wares, the faint clang of the Ironweave bridges shifting to accommodate the day’s traffic.

  “So,” Thadan said finally. “We’re going into business selling furniture we don’t fully understand, made by creatures we can barely control, to customers who might get eaten if something goes wrong.”

  “That about sums it up, yes.”

  “Perfect!” Thadan brought his hands together in a clap. “Sounds exactly like every other business plan I’ve ever heard. We’ll work out the details as we go along!”

  “That’s your solution? Just... wing it?”

  “Has anything in our lives ever gone according to plan?”

  Brakar opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again as he ?thought about their history. “Fair point.”

  “Besides,” Thadan continued, warming to his theme, “think about it—we’re not just selling furniture. We’re selling an experience! Custom-fitted chairs that actually adjust to you. Tables that won’t wobble no matter how uneven the floor is. Wardrobes that can organize themselves!”

  “Assuming we can convince them to do any of that.”

  “That’s where you come in! You’ve got that whole...” Thadan waved his hands vaguely. “Mimic-whisperer thing going on. Once you’ve recovered, you can explain what we need them to do.”

  The chair-mimic’s form quivered in a manner that, if Brakar had to guess, indicated consent. Although, if he were honest with himself, it was definitely mockery.

  “And what if I can’t? What if they decide they’d rather eat our customers than serve them?”

  “Then we’ll deal with that when it happens.” Thadan’s expression grew gentler. “Look, I know it’s not a perfect plan. But when have we ever had one of those? At least this way we’re trying something new. Something that could work.”

  Brakar sighed, feeling the sofa-mimic shift sympathetically beneath him. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

  “Nope!” A broad grin lit up Thadan’s face. “Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?”

  “Do you want that list alphabetically or in order of likelihood?”

  “Details!” Thadan waved off his concerns. “The point is, we’ve got a unique opportunity here. No one else is doing anything like this. We could revolutionize the furniture industry!”

  “Or get arrested for endangering public safety.”

  “That’s why we’ll start small! Just a few pieces, carefully monitored. We’ll work out the kinks before we expand.”

  The mimics’ surfaces rippled again, and Brakar felt a faint brush against his magical senses—not quite communication, but something like interest. Maybe even anticipation.

  “They seem on board with the idea,” he noted.

  “See? Even our inventory agrees!” Thadan’s enthusiasm was reaching dangerous levels. “Now we just have to figure out pricing, marketing, customer policies...”

  “Basic safety protocols?”

  “Those too! But first...” Thadan’s face turned slightly sheepish. “We should probably clean up the rest of the shop. And maybe figure out how we’re going to pay rent next month.”

  “Ah.” Brakar nodded. “The mundane details of revolutionary business ventures.”

  “Exactly! But hey, at least we’ve got help now.” Thadan patted the chair-mimic’s armrest. “Once you’re recovered enough to ask them, anyway.”

  Brakar looked around their dusty, half-organized shop, with its transformed predators and ambitious plans. This wasn’t how he’d expected his life to go—but then, when had it ever followed expectations?

  “Right then,” he said, pushing himself up from the surprisingly comfortable sofa. “Let’s get to work.”

  The mimics seemed to resonate together, their collective presence signaling agreement. Whatever happened next, at least they wouldn’t be facing it alone.

  And really, Brakar thought as they began tackling the day’s more mundane challenges, how much trouble could a furniture store possibly be?

  The sofa-mimic’s leather creaked. It sounded suspiciously like laughter.