Old Friends and Old Business

[Harry Dresden]

Finding the rather ostentatious landlord proved to be fairly easy. He'd left a note on the door with directions to a bar. Harry followed the directions and walked inside, feeling a pang of sadness that it wasn't anything like Mac's. There was no electricity, for one thing; the place was lit by windows and oil lamps. There wasn't a semi-random arrangement of stools and pillars to disperse magical energies. It was just a normal, medieval bar. Which, granted, made a great deal of sense. It was Minas Tirith after all. Something in Harry still had a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that he was in Minas Tirith, straight out of Lord of the Rings like it'd been plucked from Tolkein's opus and settled here in this Omniverse.

Instead, he tracked down the man who had hired him a split second before being spotted by the same man. The landlord gave a cheery wave. "It's done, then?" Harry slid the coin across the table to him and nodded. "Guards said you'd know what to do with that." The landlord nodded, pulling out a sheet of parchment, an inkwell, and a pen. "Alright. Sign here and I'll turn over the place to you." Years of dealing with Fae made him read the sheet twice, but it was just a simple property transfer in payment for services rendered. Really old style language, but still pretty clear in its purpose. After a few fumbles with the inkwell, the wizard managed to put something vaguely resembling "Harry Dresden" on the paper, more or less where the line for his signature was. The landlord waited for the ink to dry before rolling the paper up and sticking it into a bag, then tossed a large, medieval key to Harry. "That's that, then. There's the key. Enjoy." Harry nodded, said "Pleasure doing business with you," and then walked off to go and fit the room in Minas Tirith as an office.