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David didn't hesitate. "Plain prices here, sir. One copper per square foot per day. Each room is a hundred square feet, so that's a hundred coppers a day."
Bill did the mental math. In King's Landing the rate would have been average—neither cheap nor expensive—but Oros was still brand new. Land here couldn't possibly cost what it did in the capital.
"Innkeep, that price isn't low even for King's Landing," he said, keeping his tone light but firm. "Oros is growing fast, I'll grant you that, but surely there's room to come down a bit?"
David's smile turned a touch pained. "Sir, you have to understand—Oros is barely two years old. We don't have many finished warehouses yet. Most buildings are already spoken for: workshops, shops, or living quarters. Proper storage space is scarce. And right now every merchant in Westeros seems to be sailing in with cargo. The few warehouses we do have are filling up fast.
You're actually lucky. These rooms behind my inn were only finished last week. If you'd arrived two days later they might already be rented. After that, finding anything decent could take days."
Bill knew better than to swallow every word, but he also knew the man had a point. He kept haggling anyway.
"I can't say whether that's true or not, but I do know one thing: right now that warehouse is sitting empty. If I rent it, you get steady coin every single day. We're both reasonable men. Why not drop the price a little? I won't waste time shopping around, and you'll have a tenant from day one. Everybody wins."
David rubbed his jaw, thinking. Finally he sighed. "All right. Short term—under a month—I'll knock off ten coppers a day. Stay a full month or longer and I'll take fifteen off. That's my best offer."
Bill pretended to chew it over, then stuck out his hand. "Eighty coppers a day it is."
They shook on it. Bill counted out a silver stag as deposit—more than enough to cover the first few days—and the deal was done. Both men walked back to the inn looking pleased.
Once inside, Bill sent John straight back to the docks with the customs chit to collect the barrels. "Get them moved before the sun cooks them."
John didn't argue. He rounded up a crew of dockhands, paid the hauling fee, and spent the rest of the afternoon shifting fifty heavy barrels from the quay to the newly rented warehouse. By the time the sun dipped low, every barrel was safely stacked inside.
Bill stood in the middle of the room counting aloud. "One… two… three…"
John returned from paying the last dockhand. "Everything's inside, my lord. What next?"
"Forty-nine… fifty. Good, the count's right. Now go over the whole place again—walls, floor, ceiling. Look for hidden doors, loose panels, anything. I didn't survive this long in trade by being careless."
John nodded and made a second, thorough sweep of the warehouse. When he was satisfied there were no tricks, he reported back.
"Clean as a whistle, my lord. And we're only fifty yards from our room at the inn. I'll come check it again a few times tonight. Nothing should go missing."
Bill locked the heavy door himself, tested the bar, then gave a satisfied grunt. "Good. Let's head back. We'll eat, then you can make your rounds."
They had barely reached the stairs when David called out from behind the counter.
"Sirs! Finished already? Kitchen's just put out dinner. Care for a meal?"
Bill patted his stomach. "Now that you mention it, I'm starving. What have you got?"
"You're in luck—cook picked up fresh seafood this morning. Seafood risotto, grilled sausage, salted fish, and a nice fish soup."
"Sounds perfect. Send a bit of everything up to our room. We'll eat upstairs."
"Certainly, sirs. I'll have it brought right up. Just give me a few minutes."
David disappeared into the kitchen. Bill and John climbed the stairs. Eating downstairs would have been easier, but after a long day in a strange city Bill preferred the safety of a locked door and a clear view of the river. Too many unfamiliar faces in the common room for his taste.
David was quick. They had only just settled when a knock sounded at the door.
"Who is it?"
"It's me, sir—David, with your dinner."
John opened the door. David and a serving boy carried in two large trays and set them on the table by the window. The rich smell of saffron, garlic, and fresh fish filled the small room.
"Simple fare, I'm afraid, but everything's hot. When you're finished just leave the dishes by the door. I'll send someone for them."
Bill nodded, already reaching for a spoon. "Thank you. That'll be all for tonight."
David bowed slightly and withdrew, closing the door behind him.
Bill took a big bite of the risotto and let out a contented sigh. "Not bad at all. Maybe this place really is going to be good for business."
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