Saturday morning.
Aloisius Treadwell stands outside what a few days ago was Cliché Toys, the lone toy store in town that happened to be run by a visiting fat elf named Roderic Cliché. Roderic's quite sudden exit left the shop in the policymaker's pudgy hands at the elf's request, and this meant another source of income for the portly politician.
As for the latest? Tready has just finished hanging up a new sign over the door, one reading "Tready's Toys" and displaying a wonderfully engraved picture of his grinning, pudgy, mustached and bearded face below his name with the beard sprawling across the lower part of the wooden placard. Suffice to say that Tready is more than happy with his recent woodwork--although, of course, he wouldn't own up to such skill at carving things yet. Heavens no.
However, he's not finished. Altias might be ready to kill him for this, but Treadwell has already made arrangements for word of this change of ownership to be spread around the town. So, as of about one o'clock Saturday afternoon, one of the town criers would start belting out the following.
"One o'clock and all is weeeeeeelllllllll! Snow's stopped a-fallin' in Myrken Wood--seven and eight inches in spots! Latest news: Cliché Toys 'as changed hands; see Counc'lor Tread'ell if you be a-lookin' for stuff for the kiddies!"