The theatre came into view ten minutes later — a grand building by the city’s standards, the kind of structure that had clearly once meant something. A young boy stood out front with a stack of handbills, calling out to anyone who slowed their pace.

Most people walked past without looking at him. A few had stopped to buy, but the stack in his hands was still thick.

The boy blinked, visibly startled that it had worked. "Of course, sir! Five silver!"

He handed the ticket at the door and stepped through.

He remembered what Reiner had said when he’d mentioned wanting to buy a theatre: "If that’s what you’re after, I know of a cheap one. Washed-up place on the east side of the city — the Eastern Theatre. Worth a look if your expectations are modest."

Dust on the railings. Cobwebs in the upper corners where nobody had thought to reach with a broom in some time. The upholstery on several seats had given up entirely. The stage curtain had faded from what was probably once a deep red to something closer to the color of old rust.

The curtain eventually parted.

"The Seven Heroes of legend once faced the cruelest demon king to ever walk this earth — and triumphed. But that is not the story we tell tonight. Tonight, we speak of what came after. Of a legendary hero, and the poor servant girl who undid him completely."

It was a simple story, and it moved simply — a straight line from hardship to love to resolution, every beat arriving exactly when expected. The audience offered polite applause at the appropriate moments, which was about as much as the material invited.

He wasn’t really watching the story anymore. He was watching the young woman playing the servant.

Even in the stilted scenes, she found something real to do with her hands, her posture, the way she turned from another character. She had the instinct. Whatever training she’d had, the talent underneath it was genuine.

’Those two are worth something,’ Arthur thought, stroking his chin slowly. ’The rest are filling seats on stage. But those two — I could use them.’

The portal wasn’t stable enough to bring anyone through from home. Whatever he was going to build here, he was building with local materials.

Then he stood and made his way toward the backstage entrance.

Arthur looked at him. "I’d like to speak with the owner."

"Nothing like that," Arthur said. "I have something important to discuss with him. It shouldn’t take long."

Arthur looked at him again, more carefully this time. Short, a little rumpled, but there was something in the way he held himself that fit. The posture of a man who had presided over a place for a long time, even if the place had seen better days.

"I’m Lykan Steel." He watched Arthur with cautious eyes. "And what exactly is this important business of yours?"

The silence that followed was immediate and complete.

"Did someone actually just say they want to buy this place?"

"He has to be joking."

Arthur caught every word. Lykan, for his part, heard none of it — the years hadn’t been kind to his ears.

"That doesn’t particularly concern me," Arthur said. "I’m a new merchant in this city, just registered today. This theatre strikes me as a reasonable place to begin."

"I can do whatever I like with it once it’s mine. That’s generally how purchasing things works."

Arthur glanced around the hall — the cobwebs, the empty rows, the faded curtain. Then back to Lykan. "And how exactly do you plan to do that?"

"I’ll tell you what," Arthur said. "Sell it to me, and I’ll restore it myself. Not convert it — restore it. A working theatre, running properly."

"If I fail," Arthur said simply, "I return full ownership to you. No conditions. And I won’t ask for a single coin back." He let that land for a moment. "We can draw up a contract and register it with the City Council if you want it official."

The offer was almost unreasonable in how little it asked. A stranger, newly arrived, willing to absorb the entire financial risk of a failing venture and hand it back if things went wrong...

"That is..." Lykan swallowed. "That is quite an unusual arrangement."