Berkley’s Pawnshop did not look like much from the outside. It seemed like a small, generic, run-down brick store in the messy streets of the First District, but inside was an entirely different story. Stepping into it was like going into a history book—with shelves full of items older than any of the people in the store, and even the whole city. It could easily be a wing in a museum, with how well the items were taken care of, how they were organized and labeled to tell their stories.
Erin was not really the type to appreciate art or history or expensive jewelry, but she appreciated the uniqueness of the pawnshop compared to the others around the city that only catered the rich and loose with money—for this one actually treasured history more than market value.
“Christopher Berkley!
