The man placed a folded document on the counter. From a single glance, Atem could tell it had been printed that very morning—the seal at the bottom was still damp.
Atem read through it briefly. His expression remained calm, almost neutral, but inside he was seething.
"I was under the impression that larger apothecaries were usually reviewed first," Atem said with a slight frown. "Blue Lotus Hall has far more stock than I do."
"That is true," the man murmured with a faint smile. "Yet smaller establishments are… easier to begin with. It sets the tone for everything that follows."
Easier to begin with?
Atem sneered inwardly. Shouldn't it be easier to extort?
"My records are in order. You may look through whatever you need. I prefer to keep things straightforward."
He placed the paper neatly back on the counter.
"I appreciate that," the man said with a polite nod. "It would be better for both of us if everything proceeds smoothly."
He moved with deliberate care, pausing at each shelf to study the labels.
Atem watched him scan jars of dried willow bark, bundles of marsh herbs, and neatly stacked boxes of pills. Even without touching anything, his eyes weighed each item as if checking invisible marks on a hidden list.
After a while, he stopped beside the rack of shallow-water tools.
"These spears… I've heard they are popular with the dock workers."
Atem kept his expression even. "It's nothing special. They just serve their purpose."
"They look… very specialized."
"They are," Atem replied calmly. "A friend of mine handles the forging. I design the rest."
The man considered the answer without comment. Then he turned back and placed a small bronze token on the counter—the crest of the Harbor Authority carved into its surface.
"We are required to speak with every shopkeeper after an inspection," he said, giving Atem a faintly mysterious look. "Some matters are best clarified early."
Atem nodded for him to continue.
"There will be a new filing requirement next month. Independent sellers of medicine will need to report their monthly volume and the source of their ingredients. The regulation is not yet public, but it will be soon."
Atem rested his fingertips lightly on the counter. "I see."
"It shouldn't cause trouble as long as everything is transparent," the man chuckled.
Atem could tell from his tone that transparency was not the real concern. The Harbor Authority preferred matters it could control, not merely see.
"Understood," Atem said with a polite nod.
The man retrieved the folded document and tucked it into his coat. "Your records appear in order. I won't need to return unless the office requests a follow-up."
"That's good to hear."
But instead of leaving, the man lingered. His gaze shifted—no longer the detached, official look from earlier. He placed one hand lightly on the counter.
"If Shopkeeper Atem prefers not to see inspectors again," he said, lowering his voice, "I can make a few adjustments in the records. A definitive filing. Once that is done, no one will have a reason to visit your shop for quite some time."
Atem met his eyes without changing expression.
"That is generous. I'm surprised you would go to the trouble."
The man tapped his fingers once on the counter.
"It isn't trouble," he laughed softly. "Most shopkeepers eventually ask for this sort of arrangement. A little cooperation keeps the Tide-Line running smoothly. Otherwise regulations can pile up… and that creates unnecessary strain for everyone."
Atem listened without shifting his posture. Every sentence sounded like an offering, yet carried a quiet expectation beneath the surface.
"I see," Atem said. "But I prefer to keep my filings as they are. It avoids confusion later."
The man studied him for a moment, perhaps waiting for hesitation. When none appeared, he slowly withdrew his hand.
"Most people learn not to take the harder path," he said with a slightly heavier tone. "But if that is your decision, then I won't press further."
"I appreciate the offer, Officer," Atem replied. "But I'll manage."
"Very well. If you change your mind, the Harbor Office is easy to find. Ask for Merin directly."
He turned toward the door, but paused as he reached it.
"One more thing," he added without looking back. "Inspections tend to increase before new policies take effect. It would be wise to keep your shelves organized and your papers accessible. Some officers aren't as patient as I am."
Atem considered him quietly, then nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."
Merin stepped outside and shut the door gently behind him.
Atem's polite expression vanished instantly.
"Hmph, those damned Harbor Authority leeches," he muttered. "And here I was just gloating about my profits."
He rubbed his chin.
"Did he pass by the neighboring shops… or come straight to mine? Could this be targeted?"
Before he could dwell on it, the bell over the door chimed again.
A man stepped inside carrying a woven basket against his hip. His clothes were travel-worn, marked by dried salt along the sleeves—a dock worker, familiar to anyone who spent time on the Tide-Line.
"Atem," the man greeted with a tired expression. "Tell me you've got those pills today."
Atem gestured toward the small cabinet behind him. "Cold Restoration Pills? Yes. How many do you need?"
"Two boxes," the man said quickly. "The fever's moving through our section again. Half the morning crew is coughing themselves to death."
Atem retrieved two boxes and set them on the counter. "Has the clinic near the Old Docks seen it yet?"
"They're crowded already," the man sighed, scratching the back of his neck. "They say it's just the season shifting too quickly. But we still need something to get through the shift."
Atem wrapped the boxes in paper and tied them with thread.
"Tell them to take it easy if it gets worse. That chilly air off the water isn't doing anyone any favors."
The man gave a wry smile. "Taking it easy isn't really something the foremen know how to do."
Atem didn't argue. He simply nodded as the man paid and turned toward the door.
"Oh—almost forgot."
He stopped mid-step, still facing away.
"A friend of mine at the Harbor Authority told me something… important."
Atem's heart tightened.
"All profitable, unaffiliated medicine shops are about to face a catastrophe," the man said quietly. "The Azure Crown Harbor Authority handler was replaced a few days ago. The new one is… exceedingly avaricious."
He lowered his voice even further.
"He intends to seize control of every unaffiliated shop on the Tide-Line. It's either submission… or closure."