Upstairs, Master Geron was tapping his polished leather boot against the floorboards.
He was a low ranking noble alchemist wearing a fine velvet robe that looked way too expensive for this dirty neighborhood.
He held a scented silk handkerchief over his nose to block out the smell of rotten fish and wet rust coming from the streets.
Brandon came bustling up the stairs, wiping his greasy face with his apron.
"Master Geron!" Brandon said, squeezing his fat hands together with a fake pathetic bow. "Welcome back to Brandon’s Junkshop! I have just what you need for your apprentice!"
Brandon hurried over to a shelf, pulled down a small wooden jar of dull grey dust, and set it on the wooden counter.
It was ninety percent crushed chalk mixed with a tiny drop of leftover mana potion.
Geron leaned over, sniffed the jar once, and immediately slammed his fist onto the wooden counter with a loud bang.
"Really? Are you taking me for a fool?!" Geron snarled, his eyes turning sharp. "This is garbage! It barely has enough magic energy to light a small candle wick!"
" My apprentice has his guild entrance exam tomorrow! If he fails because of your weak cheap dust, I will have the city guards tear this shop down stone by stone!"
Brandon turned pale, his fat neck sweating profusely.
"W-wait! Master Geron please!" Brandon panicked, holding his hands up in the air. "I... I have a special inventory in the back! A new batch just arrived from the northern front! High purity!"
"Tsk. Show me," Geron demanded, crossing his arms over his fancy velvet chest. "And if it’s another jar of chalk, I am calling the royal guards immediately."
Brandon sprinted back to the cellar trapdoor and practically tumbled down the wooden stairs.
He grabbed Phillip by the shoulders, his fat face bright red. "Boy! That powder you made down here! Can you make it so a normal human can use it without their chest blowing up?!"
Phillip wiped his nose on his sleeve and chuckled softly. "Of course I can."
"Quick! Give me a handful!" Brandon demanded, holding out a dirty glass jar.
Phillip carefully swept a small portion of his custom blend into the jar. "That’ll be two silver pieces for my cut boss."
"I’m not paying you shit!" Brandon hissed, grabbing the jar and running back up the stairs.
Phillip watched him go with a calm lazy smirk. "Oh you’re gonna pay me old fat man. One way or another."
Upstairs, Brandon proudly set the shimmering violet powder in front of Master Malakor.
"Look at this sir!" Brandon lied smoothly. "Imported directly from the well known guild! Pure fire and earth mana, perfectly balanced!"
Geron looked down at the glowing violet dust with extreme suspicion. He pulled a small copper fire rod from his sleeve, lit the tip with a tiny spark of magic, and touched it to a single grain of the powder in the jar.
WOOSH!
A sudden blinding wave of brilliant violet light erupted from the jar, filling the entire shop with a warm powerful aura.
The air instantly became so thick with pure magic energy that the old wooden shelves started humming with vibrations.
Geron’s eyes widened until they looked like big glass saucers. He could feel his own depleted mana reserves rapidly recharging just by standing near the glowing vapor.
"By the elemental gods," Geron whispered, his hands shaking as he stared at the jar. "This... this is high grade snuff! The density is incredible! How much do you want for the whole jar?!"
Brandon’s eyes lit up with wild greed. "That will be... fifty silver pieces!"
"I’ll give you two gold coins!" Geron blurted out, reaching into his cloak to pull out a heavy leather coin purse filled with shiny gold coins.
Before Brandon’s fat fingers could touch the gold, a hand reached out from the darkness behind the counter and snatched the purse right out of the air.
Brandon and Master Geron froze.
Phillip walked out from the back cellar door, casually tossing the heavy leather purse up and down in his dirt covered hand.
He looked completely unbothered, his tunic covered in glowing dust and a easy relaxed smile on his face.
"Who is this beggar?!" Geron asked, looking at the ragged kid.
"He’s nobody! Just my worthless assistant!" Brandon yelled, his face turning dark purple with rage. "Give that back you little shit or I’ll break your neck!"
Phillip didn’t even flinch. He opened the purse, pulled out one bright gold coin, and dropped it right into his own pocket.
Then he casually tossed the rest of the heavy purse onto the wooden counter in front of Brandon.
"There’s your cut boss," Phillip said, his voice smooth and steady as he leaned against the counter. "Consider it a generous eighty percent tip for letting me use your dusty cellar."
Brandon opened his mouth to scream, but Phillip turned his head slightly and looked Brandon right in the eyes.
Phillip’s eyes were still glowing with a faint orange fire from the red blade powder, and the raw pressure leaking from his body made the floorboards under Brandon’s boots shake.
The fat man swallowed hard, his throat going completely dry. He realized right then and there that if he tried to fight this kid, Phillip would throw him through the front window and out into the street.
Phillip turned to Master Geron with a friendly, professional smile that looked completely out of place on a dirty slum kid.
"Pleasure doing business with you sir," Phillip said politely, dusting off his dirty hands. "Come back every Friday afternoon. Next week we got a special blend coming in that will make your apprentice pass his exam with flying colors."
Geron looked at the glowing jar, then at Phillip glowing eyes, and slowly nodded his head in deep respect.
"Alright, its a deal boy," Geron said, grabbing the jar and backing out of the shop door quickly. "Keep that quality high and I will make you a very rich man."
The front door slammed shut, leaving only Phillip and old Brandon standing in the silent shop.
Brandon looked at the pile of gold coins on the counter, then looked at Phillip who was casually leaning against the wall, picking his teeth with a small wooden splinter.
"You crazy bastard," Brandon whispered, his voice trembling slightly. "What the hell are you?"
Phillip pulled the gold coin out of his pocket, flipped it high into the air, and caught it with a crisp snap of his fingers.
"I’m your new business partner fat head," Phillip grinned, his eyes sparkling in the dim light. "Now go downstairs and bring me some more of those broken magic swords. We got work to do."