Wolfe had a fair deal of experience with explosions, and it only took a few minutes of examination to realize that this one had started sowhere near shoulder height.
That was why it had so effectively blown out the front windows and door of the building, there was no furniture to stop it.
The nearby display counters were collapsed, not pushed out and up, as they would have been if the explosion had been at floor level, and the damage to the back of the building was much worse than the front.
The only part he couldn’t determine is what had created the explosion. There was nothing in the house or shop originally that could have done it, and whatever it was had created a blast that could take out the standard Rank Two protective barriers on the building.
With a lack of evidence surviving the explosion, Wolfe headed back out into the street to help with the cleanup.
They had already piled the rubble, so nobody got injured by an unexpected shard, and repaired the windows in the nearby shops, who were sweeping up their interiors now.
The man was still looking shaken, but a bit more healthy than he had been when Wolfe first arrived.
Wolfe patted him on the head, and the man shook his head.
"I know what you’re going to ask, and I have no idea how it happened. All that I was doing was stacking the bulk crates of materials for the costics that my wife makes, and suddenly, I was flying out the window." He explained in a pained voice that had the Witches checking him with healing spells again.
"Where is your wife now?" Wolfe asked gently.
"In the market sowhere. She didn’t want to cook, so she said she was going to get us sothing from the restaurants to eat at ho. We wanted to eat our first al here in our house, you see." He rambled, looking at the ruins of the house.
Wolfe looked over the damage. "Well, that is still possible, but you won’t have much of your supplies anymore. How much is still in that covered wagon?"
The shaken man considered it and shrugged. "All the housewares were inside, but the ho ca furnished, so it wasn’t much. Then all of her supplies. She’s going to be so mad about that. The acids were so hard to co by."
Sothing in that stirred mories in Wolfe’s mind, but it was the old witch who had co running over to heal him that realized it first.
"Those supplies, I don’t suppose they have glycerol, do they?" She asked.
The man nodded. "Yes, it’s for thickening the costics. Why do you ask?"
The Witch sighed. "Because when it’s mixed with certain acids, it makes a very unstable and explosive combination. I don’t suppose you had sothing like Linseed oil in those boxes as well, did you?"
The man looked shocked. "Can you read minds? I had just set down the crate of linseed oil for finishing the wands and other wooden products. Can you explain what happened?"
The witch nodded. "As you know, linseed oil, and many other oils, generate heat as they dry. My guess is that one of your oil jars was leaking, and so were so of the bottles in the costics supplies. The leaked materials mixed, heated, and exploded, in that order."
King Petros pulled the tattered tarp off the wagon, which had been severely shaken, but didn’t tip during the blast, and found that the bottom was filled with liquid.
"It looks like the problem is poor packing practices. So of the containers are taller than the crates they were put in, so the glass took the weight instead of the box, and they’ve broken. It all still looks packed, but there is a lot of leaked liquid, that hopefully isn’t explosive." Petros inford the others.
"It slls like Olive Oil." Wolfe inford him.
"Front of the wagon under the seat, with the rest of the food supplies." The shopkeeper inford them.
"Ah, yes. A five gallon clay jug with a hole in the side. That will do it. But what do we do about the shop?" Petros asked.
The old witch patted him on the shoulder. "Don’t you worry your pretty head about that, Dear. We will get the shop all sorted out right quick, and they can still move in today."
Petros smiled at the fact he was being grand-mothered by a woman who was almost certainly younger than he was, but he didn’t say anything as the old woman called over a few other Witches, who surveyed the rubble with dismay.
"Ladies, we had a small mishap here. I don’t suppose that you can get it sorted out right quick? Mister Wolfe is here to help with the mana and the extra spells. You know how that kind of exertion tires out." She explained.
"Of course, Nona. Mister Wolfe, if you don’t mind, could you spare so mana? We will fix that up right away. I’ve got the template array with , as I’m on the maintenance team." The closest of the younger witches asked.
"Of course. Just hold my hand and pull what you need." Wolfe agreed.
The aging Witch giggled, knowing full well what happened if Wolfe pushed mana into soone. She had been hoping the youngsters had forgotten so that she could get so free entertainnt.
The Witch took Wolfe’s hand and began to cast the spells needed to rebuild the house and repair the damage that had been done. As she worked, a few of the nearby Fae joined in, adding their magic to get rid of the rubble, and to tweak the standard template in ways that made them happier.
Most of the shops in the new portions of town had gotten that treatnt after Wolfe first made them. The Fae ca by, decided that they were boring, and added details to the exterior. After all, if they were unclaid, they were free and open to artistic interpretation.
At least by Fae logic.
"Wonderful. "It’s all finished and stocked with the original complent of housewares and such. We also added so extra sheets and blankets, as yours were lost, as well as so more dishes and cooking utensils. Only the very basics were in the house to begin with because the shopkeepers always bring their own.
What else are we forgetting? We didn’t replace the costics supplies or anything that was in the shop, but we did our best to recreate the furniture in there as it was before the explosion. That’s about the best we can do for you, so it’s up to you to explain to your wife that her supplies exploded." The maintenance worker explained.
The man grimaced. Getting an entirely rebuilt shop was wonderful. But telling his wife that her precious supplies were gone would not be.
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