Home is where the, is?

Steven trudged back into the Mistveil Shores, the cave’s loot jostling in his bag as dusk painted the sky in muted hues. His boots, still dusted with shale, carried him straight to the guild hall, the familiar clamor of adventurers greeting him as he stepped inside. Sophy presided at the desk, her curves a quiet distraction beneath her professional air. “Hey, Sophy,” he said, leaning in with a grin.

“Hey, Steve,” she replied, her tone warm but curious. “What’ve you gotten into now?” Her eyes flicked over his battered tunic, a faint eyebrow quirking in basic inquisition.

“Returned to that cave from my last mission—cleared it out,” he said, patting his bag. “Got extra materials. Figured I could sell ‘em?” Sophy nodded, extending a hand. “Sure, gimme your ID card first, please.” He fished the bronze D-rank card from his pocket and handed it over. She slotted it into the rune-etched machine, its hum filling the air as it scanned his latest delve.

Her eyes widened as the data flared up. “Wow, you really put in the work,” she said, voice tinged with admiration. “Eight king crabs, four wyrmlings, plus a mess o’ bats and lesser crabs—complete wipeout. According to this, you’ve cleared that cave clean. Won’t see new monsters for a long stretch—mining teams might even move in now.” She leaned back, appraising him. “Y’know we toss extra rewards for goin’ above and beyond—pushes adventurers to shine. Plus, cleanup runs like this? You can sell whatever you snag. What’ve you got?”

Steven grinned, ready to unload his haul—40 King Crab Chitin, 20 Wyrmling Scales, 3 Mithril Ore; and the Dragon Egg which he didn't mention. Sophy’s eyes widened as Steven laid out his haul.

“One moment.” She ducked into the back, returning with a hefty tome bound in cracked leather, its pages yellowed and curling. Flipping through, she muttered, “King crab chitin… wyrmling scales… mithril ore…” Her finger traced columns of figures, then she looked up. “Total’s 2 gold for the lot—sound okay?” Steven grinned. “Yup, sounds good to me.” She nodded, tapping the book. “Addin’ the cave clear—keeps the miners safe, big win for us—final reward’s 2 gold, 10 silver.”

“Sweet-as,” Steven said, his grin widening as she fetched the payout—2 gleaming gold coins and 10 silver, clinking onto the counter. He pocketed them, his stash now swelling: 3 gold (counting his prior 1), 6 silver (adding his 3 from the wyrmling quest), and 1 copper (after room and meal costs). The Cliffside Manor flashed in his mind—150 silver, or 1 gold 50 silver—a sea-view dream now within reach. He recalled the sign out front, pointing to “The Agency,” and set off, leaving the guild’s bustle behind.

The Agency’s squat building sat near the market square, its name as blunt as its purpose. Steven stepped inside, greeted by a young man—barely 5 feet tall, clad in a fantasy take on a business suit: a tailored tunic with brass buttons, trousers crisp despite the salt air. “Ah, yes, may I help you, sir?” he asked, voice chipper but polished. “Yeah, hi—I’m Steven. Lookin’ to buy a home,” Steven replied. The man’s eyes lit up. “Do you have one in mind?” “Cliffside Manor,” Steven said. “Saw the sign—150 silver, right?” The man nodded. “Aye, or 1 gold, 50 silver, as it were.” Steven leaned in. “Mind if we check it out? Wanna see inside.” The man’s face soured, hesitating. “Are you sure, sir?” he said, voice tight. “Yeah, let’s go,” Steven insisted, unwavering.

They trekked to the cliffside, the manor rising against the crashing sea—stone walls weathered but proud, windows glinting like eyes. From outside, it was stunning—a sprawling promise of grandeur. The man fumbled with a key, **** plain, but relented under Steven’s steady gaze. The door creaked open, and the illusion shattered. Inside was a wreck—dust thick as fog, cobwebs draping cracked beams, floors scuffed and stained. Furniture sagged, rotted by salt air; the grand hearth was choked with ash. Not a manor’s polish, but a fixer-upper’s bones. The man shifted, awkward. “That’s why it’s only 150 silver. Cleaned up, this’d fetch far more—prime spot, big rooms. Just… needs work.”

Steven stood amidst the grime, eyeing the potential beneath—a D-rank home for a D-rank fighter, rough but his if he claimed it.

Steven stood in the Cliffside Manor’s dilapidated shell, the sea breeze whistling through cracked windows as he crossed his arms. “I’d own this outright, yeah? No hidden fees or tricks?” he asked, voice firm. The short agent nodded, adjusting his brass-buttoned tunic. “Yes, sir—full ownership, no strings. But I gotta warn ye…” He hesitated, glancing at the sagging beams. “There’s a risk o’ collapse.” Steven recoiled, brow furrowing. “Collapse? What d’ye mean?” The man sighed, gesturing to the cliff’s edge. “Storms hit hard here—**** winds, relentless. This old girl’s been neglected too long. One day, she’ll give, tumble right into the sea. I’d advise against it, truth be told.”

Steven’s jaw tightened, the warning sinking in. A home crashing down mid-sleep wasn’t his idea of luxury—his 3 gold, 6 silver, and 1 copper deserved better than a **** trap. “Okay, yeah, let’s move on,” he said, stepping back from the grime. “Got any other luxurious homes for sale?” The agent’s sour look softened, a glint of opportunity in his eye. “Aye, we’ve a few—proper ones, no cliffs ready to betray ye. Here’s what’s on offer:”

Luxurious Homes for Sale:

The Tidewatch Spire - Price: 2 gold (200 silver)

A sleek, three-story tower near the docks, built of polished gray stone with spiral staircases and arched windows overlooking the harbor. Two bedrooms with feather beds, a study with built-in shelves, a tiled kitchen, and a bathroom with a copper tub fed by a small aqueduct. Rooftop terrace for sea-gazing—sturdy, modern, a merchant’s pride. No collapse risk, just the hum of ships below.

The Emberfall Villa - Price: 2 gold, 50 silver (250 silver)

Nestled in the artisan quarter, this warm-toned brick villa glows with charm—two spacious bedrooms with carved wooden beds, a grand hearth dominating the living room, a kitchen with an iron stove, and a bathroom boasting a sunken stone bath. A small courtyard out back, ringed by ember-red vines, offers quiet. Well-kept, storm-proof, a craftsman’s dream.

The Silverpine Lodge - Price: 3 gold (300 silver)

On the town’s wooded outskirts, this timber-and-stone lodge sprawls rustic yet regal—three bedrooms with fur-draped beds, a massive hearth with a mounted stag skull, a kitchen with a butcher’s block, and a bathroom with a cedar-lined tub. A loft overlooks the living space, and a porch faces the pines. Solid as the trees around it, built to weather any gale.

The Gilded Crest - Price: 5 gold (500 silver)

Perched in the wealthy district, this opulent manor gleams—four bedrooms with silk bedding, a chandelier-lit dining hall, a kitchen with marble counters and a hearth, and a bathroom with a gilded tub and piped water. Stained-glass windows splash color, and a walled garden blooms out back. A noble’s retreat, unshakeable, priced for prestige.

Steven eyed the agent, his pouch heavy—3 gold, 6 silver, 1 copper—and his mind racing. The Cliffside was out, but these? Luxurious, stable, his for the taking if he chose right.